Bluesday The 27th

Man, what a melancholy day I had. I wasn't depressed. I wasn't happy. I just........was.

I was still a little tired from Sunday night's Who concert (which I may have to write about over on Tony's Hazy Concert Memories) all day Monday, so I was surprised when I had trouble falling asleep last night. Then I tossed and turned for some reason and didn't sleep well all. I began to awake every 30 minutes or so starting around 4am. Thankfully, I got some true slumber between 5:30am and 7:00am, but that got me out of bed much later than I prefer and I felt like I was behind some sort of fictional schedule.

I did a little email recon while I caffeinated myself properly and then skimmed the paper with a light breakfast. A good start, even if I felt like I had some time to make up. My wife called from work and gave me some advice.

I've been job hunting a bit lately and yesterday was draining because I spent most of the day on the computer sending out resumes and corresponding with potential employers. It was productive in the sense of accomplishment, but my brain was a bit frazzled. I wonder now if it contributed to my sleep disorder, but would have guessed I'd slept better being so exhausted. Anyway, my wife noticed that I was out of sorts and suggested that I "take the day off" to get some shopping done and maybe even have what we call a Tony Day.

A Tony Day usually consists of me doing stuff I consider fun but my wife has little or no interest in. For example, browsing for CDs and books to me is a great day out, but for my wife it is The Bataan Death March. I shop for music and words like time is standing still, but when Mary's beside me, she acts like she's standing on hot coals.

Mary thought that a Tony Day might boost my spirits and recharge my battery a bit. I mulled over her suggestion for a moment and agreed. After hanging up with her, I finished up on the computer and decided to put off my visit to the gym until the afternoon. I showered and dressed to head out into the day.

I needed some new running shoes, so that would be my first destination. I think my testosterone drops drastically when I shop for shoes, any kind of shoes, because I fit the stereotype of the woman who can't decide on a pair. To me, buying shoes is very stressful because I never feel like I'm getting an accurate portrayal of the shoes while doing some sort of fashion runway jag up and down the shoe aisle. I feel like an idiot. Someone should invent a machine that can give you the feel of the shoes a few days into the purchase. I mean, most of the time, when you try on a shirt or pair of pants you know what they're gonna feel like in a few days. If anything, they'll feel better after a cycle in the wash. But new shoes are stiff and if you've worn old broken in shoes to try on new ones, you might as well try on a suit of armor after wearing pajamas.

I got really lucky and found a nice pair of Asics that didn't feel like I was trying on ski boots and I was able to get to the fun stuff. I decided to head over to Best Buy to browse around the CDs. I took a quick look at the cellphones because the wife wants an upgrade to Bluetooth technology. Most of the nicer phones have MP3 abilities and video capture functions. I have no problem with that, but can I get a phone that doesn't look like it should have Hello Kitty logos all over it? Hot Pink, Cherry Red, and something that looked like baby barf were the prominent colors. All the black phones looked like the ones that come with candy in them at 7-11.

I headed over to the CD section and dove in without a mental checklist of music I'm always looking for. If anything, I had a taste for something heavy and aggressive to put on the MP3 player for times at the gym, but it would have to be just right. I wasn't in the mood to experiment. Otherwise, I was ready for something to strike my fancy or perhaps find a nice deal on something in my cue of "I'm gonna pick that up someday" titles. A stroll down the first aisle should have told me what was in store for me. Nothing.

What a dismal experience. It happens to me every once in a while where I get no inspiration to buy anything, even a known commodity or something off of that "I'm gonna...." list. I kept looking. Motorhead's Ace Of Spades? Feh. I'd recently seen a VH1 Classic special on the making of the album and thought I'd better get the reissue with bonus tracks someday. I have the cassette up in the attic gathering dust along with the remnants of my 80s musical heritage and I'd like to upgrade the copy. But not today.

Hmm, there's Blue Oyster Cult's Legacy Edition of the live album Some Enchanted Evening, I thought. The original issue of the LP was one of the first rock records I bought with my own money and it holds a special place in my heart. The expanded version has a few more live tracks on the CD and comes with a bonus DVD from a 1978 concert in Landover, MD. But at almost 30 bucks and the Internet beckoning to have me pay less whenever I want, I passed. Besides, as much as I love BOC and that album, it's not what I was in the mood for. But what was I in the mood for?

This went on for another half hour. Iron Maiden? Shrug. How about that live Sabbath double set with Ozzy? Not today, I'm afraid. Maybe something new. Now, what have I heard lately that would hold my interest? Heavy stuff? Forget it, they all sing like Froggy from The Little Rascals.

Today, I felt empty as I strolled along the Fergie, Ludacris, and Fall Out Boy displays. I thought about it for a moment and realized that it just wasn't my day. I've had times in my life where I had no inclination of going to a record store, but something would will me into the dearly departed Tower Records or even a big chain box store like Best Buy. Those times would be serendipitous and I would explain it to Mary that "God told me to go record shopping today". There are times when I put an LP or CD on and I smile when I remember that I bought it on a day when The Father spoke to me, even if it was to buy that elusive Gillan live LP.

But today, God was busy. Or his GPS signal to me got scrambled because Best Buy didn't have shit. So, nonplussed about the CD hunting, I started to leave when I spied my friend Chris "Lefty" Brown. We talked for a little while and I was glad to have seen him. It reminded me that I have good friends that I don't see enough of. Ironically, he had the day to himself and was in the same frame of mind when it came to shopping. I was running out of Tony Day time and had to get back to hit the gym with Mary. I considered cancelling the workout and having lunch with Lefty, but I really felt like hitting it hard at the gym and I knew that if I ate at that time of day, I'd be looking for a comfy chair instead of a shoulder press machine when I got home.

I did duck into Borders to check on the latest British rock mags before heading home. I love Mojo and the other book-thick magazines from overseas, but at a price that hovers around ten bucks I have to make some decisions. Never a huge Beatles fan, I passed on the MOJO special edition telling the behind the scenes story of the making of Sgt Peppers. The other mags had little to interest me so I checked on the music/performing arts section to see if some books in my "cue" had hit paperback status yet. No luck. Klosterman's Volume IV still sat there with firm covers. Andy Summers' book One Train Later sounds interesting, especially with the Police reunion tour coming up, but I can't hand over $25.00 to read about something I have a marginal interest in.

A little dejected, I left to head home with only what a child would consider horrible Christmas presents; running shoes and new athletic socks. I had the day to myself and a little disposable income to blow and couldn't find a needle for the vein. I think I need another jaunt over to the coast to flip through the endless racks of used CDs and dog eared books. Hey God, I'm listening.

I got home and Mary was ready to hit the gym after a little rest from her hard day at work. I changed and we drove over. I wasn't sure what to expect considering my flat lined attitude, but once I started the workout I turned into a machine of sorts and hit the weights pretty hard. Normally I use the MP3 player strategically, but today I just let it go and instead of the usual Rollins Band or Tool, I punished my body to the sound of The Who's Endless Wire until it played out into the jarring sound of Rage Against The Machine. I had barely noticed what I was listening to until the genre change forced me to recognize my surroundings. Based on how the body feels, it was a good workout. But I was somewhere else during the whole thing.

We got home and had a nice healthy dinner of chicken and steamed vegetables. I was a little unresponsive at times and Mary asked me if my day went like I'd planned. I didn't know what to say. Was I down because I didn't find any "fun" stuff to buy? That scares me because I never want to think of material things as medicine or emotional bandages. I like my stuff, but I'd like to imagine that I could live without shiny new things from time to time.

Having found the right shoes, I chalked up the day as somewhat of a success. But all in all, I felt like I hadn't really done anything. I can have a day when I do nothing, realize it, and be cool with it. But today, I felt like it was a day swirling with missed opportunities; like visiting more with Chris, opening my mind more to something outside of my cerebral fence line when it comes to music and literature, and just shaking the blues to live up the day.

Tomorrow holds promise. I can do something about it. Maybe I'll put on an old scratchy Ventures LP or watch Unforgiven again in between the job hunt and workout. Maybe I'll just roll around in the back yard with the dogs for a while. Or, I could get to work on that mental checklist so that I'm a little more prepared for days like today when I've got thousands of CDs and books at my disposal and walk around like a zombie.

God knows days like these don't come around that often. I just wish he would have said something today.