Man, I have been busting to get back at this, which I will return to in a minute, but, first, I have to tell you about my Kangol experience. I got up this morning, with no particular place to go or thing to do, a great hook for a Kinks song.
I did everything I am under direct orders to complete, before the day officially begins, which consists of my daily, impatient Zen sit, a yoga ritual, exactly repeated for the past 25 years and my exhausting, pain-in-the-ass run. I think it is amazing to be in a decent mood after all that, but was feeling pretty good today.
I was going to drive to the KCC Farmers Market, but I went outside and just stood in the sky embrace, closing my eyes and smiling. I traded my slippahs for sneakers and uncovered Flaming Lips for a surprise, Saturday morning, call to duty. I kept my recently purchased Kangol on my head, curious to see if we could go 50mph, without it flying saucering onto the highway.
Years and years ago, I bought a Kangol hat, when Samuel L. Jackson sported them and did so with immaculate, ebony panache. I was amazed how it stayed on my head, although it’s shaped to create a down draft, I think quite by accident. It became my signature lid, when I started riding with the Sons of Kauai. On one Sunday, after a number of years, it felt like its work with me was done and the wind took it back.
Quite recently, I purchased a red Kangol and about a week after, a blue one. I was motivated solely by vanity and I have been feeling much better about this new kind of self-absorption. I had decided to change my face in the least expensive ways possible. I put a closely-cropped, white beard around it and let my hair grow, necessitating monthly, hair surgery visits. I was thinking about looking like the way I feel, maybe even how I want to be perceived, forgive me my small mindedness.
I rolled out of my driveway with the blue Kangol resting on my head, like the crown of cool. My mood, which I will get back to in a second, felt more feather-like than I can recall recently. Happy as I was, I was skeptical the new model Kangol would possess the old-time aerodynamic magic, resting gently on my head, the wind passing through it, as if it was invisible. The moment I felt the rush of air on my face, I knew we were meant to be once again.
I am not quite sure when the yardstick of authenticity became such an important issue for me, but it didn’t come young, I’ll tell you that. At some point, I realized it’s not about the effort, rather its absence. You see the last sentence? I really don’t want to write crap like that and we are back once again to the damn story I’ve been trying to share, if you would let me.
Now, I can’t wait any longer to tell you what is on my mind and what I have been looking forward to sharing. i have been writing these posts since November 2014, a long four years. Sometimes, I can get a dozen or more “Likes” and a small handful of sweet comments. I would be lying if I said I didn’t give a shit about the numbers. At the same time, I have resisted falling into any kind of formulaic approach to generating audience. I am so dumb, I haven’t even looked to see which of the 150 or so posts got the most responses, so I could emulate them.
Hall and Oates are singing Man Eater, I have just started to cry, one more time. The last story I wrote floated from my heart and I’ve been overwhelmed by the responses and touched so deeply I don’t know what to say. Usually, when the words are in retreat, I cry saltwater Braille from the heart. Wait, I didn’t mean to imply that Hall and Oates make me cry. Now, Roy Orbison is another story!
I want you to stay with me when you can. I will try and keep it personal. The strongest communication is from the heart and I don’t care if it’s face-to-face, voice to voice or the light behind the screen. Christ, almost forgot the written page, which I believe is still called a book.
Today, we are standing on stage, just you and me. I am gently clutching my trophy, the ether, where our hearts touch each other. I feel so incredibly fortunate to have this time with you.
Larry