Smith & 9th

Courtesy of Amy, I think, I heard about Obadiah Parker and the infamous cover of "Hey Ya". Full disclosure: I've never gone back and listened to any of his/the band's other music. But let's not dwell on shortcomings. The point is that that cover is so beautiful. It captures the...painful beauty...of what is really a song about love being awfully hard.

I took pictures of the lovely pear tomatoes we've managed to grow in our backyard, but I can't find the cord to connect the camera to the laptop and I'm too lazy to go rummaging through the garage to find it. So, the pictures will have to wait. I tell you this story to show that I was at least thinking of you.

There are moments when the past feels inescapable. When it as heavy as Portland fog. Draped around my feet, pulling at my shirt, slipping into my lungs. Stealing away sun|light|oxygen. It feels very unfair. It is too powerful -- so much stronger than the present, which quickly, feebly fades into gray. It -- the past -- comes back at a moment's notice, when the right song plays, when that old picture stumbles across the screen. It's not always this way, of course. There are many days -- especially in these lovely summer months -- when the Sun is bright enough to burn away the haze. I am grateful for the assistance. But there are other times -- especially when night sweeps in -- that I|am|captive. I feel a bit captive tonight.