I am currently away with Mr.Fox on a road trip (zoomZoom). Sitting on a balcony on a San Diego morning with the marine layer thick all around and lots of little birds chirping (plus a wee child who was laughing two minutes ago and now in tears, because that is how it works!). One minute it’s candy-colored good times, then the next ash-yuck downslide. Are we all not jetting up/down/sideways on that fabulous emotional slip&slide currently? seems more so lately. Stuff shifts fast. One minute you’re strolling smiling, then brought up short in the next. The unexpected.

When I worked at SPIN and knew a few publicists well, there was one in particular who was a Deadhead—that particular brand of person who is passionately moved by the Grateful Dead. May follow them around the country, always goes to see them when possible, holds up signs at the shows that say “I Need a Miracle” by way of looking for a spare ticket. I’ve never been a fan of jam bands, of which the Grateful Dead represent the ultimate (I think?!?). To me, going to a Dead show for a million hours of jam&jive seemed like torture. My musical soil was seeded with punk rock, the antithesis of long instrumental jams. So around my birthday, this publicist said she had a surprise for me. You see where this is going, yes? But still, I love surprises and at the time had no idea. She’d gotten a reservation at a really amazing restaurant that was hard to get into and I thought that was the surprise. But no. After the meal, she was taking me somewhere else. When we got in the taxi and she told the driver “Madison Square Gardens” where I knew Grateful Dead were playing, I had a mini panic. Had I not mentioned my pride at never having seen them? Apparently not, and in all honesty, why would I have? As much as I was tempted to give my ticket to one of the “miracle” sign holders, I did not. I withstood the show. I honestly know I didn’t altogether enjoy it. Maybe I swayed around a little. I definitely wanted it to end sooner than it did. Watching the people was fun for a while. I mean, I wasn’t tortured.

Fast forward, I’m working at Elektra records and one of the band’s on the label is Phish, another of the very famous jam bands. Luckily there wasn’t much in the way of video promotion for me to do. People loved them or not. My interaction with them was minimal. I did have to do some things to make sure they got seen, but mostly there were people in the company who felt enough passion for them so that I could cheer it all on from the sideline. There it is: One minute you have an intention (to never see a jam band…and other more life-informing stuff), then the next you find yourself in a place you thought you never wanted to be (seeing the Grateful Dead…and things that really matter more than that), and finally being immersed in some adjacent world where living with that thing you thought you didn’t want is often in your sights. But really, it’s fine.

So there’s my shortie post for this week: Gone fishing, as it were.