Slow Down and Kick the Cobblestones

Slow down.

You move too fast.

You got to make the morning last.


Those are the opening lines to The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy) from Simon & Garfunkel.

I remember it well from Junior High choir.  At that time it was fairly new.  It was like, wow, we're singing a pop song!  My own feelings about it were less enthusiastic.  I didn't care for the word groovy, and I found the part that I had to sing of it lethargic and bland.  I was a bit of a snot and a music rebel when I was in Junior High and High School.  I normally didn't like anything that became hugely popular with my peers.

My attitude on Simon and Garfunkel changed by college.  I had a much better appreciation for their lyrics and rhythms, and I was really impressed with Garfunkel's vocal range.  Bridge Over Troubled Waters became one of my favorite songs, along with Bookends.

The lines above are striking a particular chord this morning, as I wish profoundly that I could slow things down, and had more time to think and write and reflect and soak in the world before I charged over to a profession that this time of year is like an unceasing zombie, wanting to eat up all my time, energy and brain power.

This is my long, abstract way of saying that my writing, the thing I enjoy the most, may be somewhat limited over the course of the next couple of months.  I am trying to balance this, along with a demanding job, and participating in the musical The Music Man with my son, Benjamin.

I had been pretty consistently adding three to six blog entries a week, but that may slow for awhile.  That is unfortunate in that my blog traffic is beginning to slow, and it will probably take a concerted effort to bring it back,  That will probably slow to one to three entries for awhile, which will probably only accelerate the decline in visits I'm getting.  The decline doesn't have all to do with my writing - something to do with connections to Europe or some such thing.  Whatever the reasons, it's been very difficult to get back on an upward trajectory.

I would love to take more time, saunter down the lane kicking cobblestones, write some more thoughtful pieces, watch from the comfort of our screened-in porch the dance of dogs and squirrels and acorns.  But I'm not there yet.  Not quite.

Someday, lamppost.  Someday, I'm going to be able to ask wha cha' knowing, and have a deep, long conversation.

Not this morning, though.