Sunday Songs: Beach House – “Walk in the Park”


Two albums in as many months, two albums in a blink of an eye.

Tonight, I’m on my couch, listening to years-old Beach House instead of the new, and trying to make sense of where this year has gone.


Out of nowhere, the calendar has filled up; tonight’s my last on my own sofa until next Sunday, at soonest. Only five weeks left after that, so many of them spoken for. New Year’s plans, nailed into place. And then, the year starts again, with some of those dates reserved as well.

There was so much to do this year, so much undone. Progress with my book, unwound. The baseball blog, started and then stopped, perhaps to rise again in the months to come. I never did buy my annual gadget splurge this year, or last for that matter. A stupid problem if there ever was one.


I went to see the newest James Bond movie last night, and it served as both a culmination and a catastrophe. Leaving, I couldn’t escape the feeling that there was something more there, once upon a time. That the pacing was wrong, that scenes it needed had been cut, and scenes it didn’t need had remained. Another version of that movie would have been a triumph, but the one I watched felt like a song by a local band I never really liked, whose songwriting always seemed to zig when I thought it should zag.

That band has its fans, and I will never know why.


Tuesday night, I read at the Salon of Shame once again, a Livejournal passage from 13 years ago entitled “I Hate Consciousness” that began with the question, “When did I start developing a life?”

All these years later, I’ve come to realize these things come in fits and starts, ebbs and flows. Just now, I sent an email to an acquaintance apologizing for being double-booked on a night next month, canceling an offer to participate in a show she’s planning. Seattle being what it is, I’m sure I’ll run into her on the street tomorrow.

But that’s a concern for another day, another time. Tonight, Beach House swirls through my home, as I try to turn the new to the familiar. Depression Cherry, Thank Your Lucky Stars. 2015 has yet to end, but it’s been summarized pretty well.

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