The Length of a Song

In my life, I've had two dads - one bio, one "proper", so to speak. One did his biological bit and was otherwise unreliable but legendary. The other was a model of sticktoitiveness, and raised me, along with Ma.

It has struck me more than once that my own character essentially plays out the dichotomy between those two. My bio-dad would have brilliant, world-conquering flashes of inspiration, and get hyper-enthused about his new project...for about a day or two. But when it came to sustained effort, he tended to lose interest or dynamism and try something else after a while. My "proper" dad, the one we lost just last month, was the complete opposite - he was a stubborn sod, but a man entirely of his word. If he said he would do a thing, it was done, and done well. 

With me, when I'm in a stubborn bastard phase, I'm like my proper dad...and then some. I become almost fanatical about the things I'm doing. When I'm not, I tend to be brilliantly careless, roaring, everything'll-be-fine and cavalier.

Walking up to the store tonight to get some eggs and bread, I had my iPod with me.

Tom Jones did some wailing about tearing down the house...Nah...

Tenacious D tempted me with songs of sex and...well, more sex...and rock and roll...Nah...

My thumb found the Shrek soundtrack. All Star and I'm A Believer by Smash Mouth. Bad Reputation and Stay Home...Hallelujah by Rufus Wainright...I'm On My Way by the Proclaimers...

And for the length of an album, I shook myself. I could embody this music. I could be an All Star - in control of my life and my destiny, not constantly overweight and at least a little bit sad. All it would take is concentrated stubborn bastardy, a vision of a goal, lots and lots of sweat and pain and self-denial and a staggering amount of determination. And - for the length of this handful of songs - I truly believed I could do it.

What happens when I wake up in the morning, the Me of Now is not responsible for. The trick, really, will be to extend the length of the songs until, say, I've done a really, truly good day, which I don't feel like I've done for a while - I feel like the exercise I've been doing is largely dabbling, and the food intake has been too large. But if I can do one really good day, it will extend the song into another day...and every day you do successfully is, to borrow once again from the language of addiction, one day more that I'll have been calorifically "clean". And once they start piling up, the thought of not adding to the pile becomes painful, so you do more, you ensure you eat less, to "qualify" for the idea of a good day. And from good days, in accumulation, come good weeks, come good results, comes the Disappearing Man.

When I did this the first time, it was a lightbulb moment, a kind of switch that went off and made me want to change my life. I haven't had that now, I've had a handful of songs, and I know how fickle my determination can be under their influence. But here's hoping for one good day. One good day, and then another...Maybe I need some longer songs? Hmm...Meat Loaf, Meat Loaf, Meat Loaf...