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Glass, Concrete & Stone
David Byrne
Grown Backwards
2004

I realize that we all need some kind of "routine" in our lives to feel at ease.  Routine can be reassuring.  It is something one can depend on.  That being said, sometimes "routine" can really get me down (i.e. see depressed-looking Charlie Brown picture below).  I hate feeling that I am mindlessly doing the same things over and over again, day to day (i.e. preparing for work, working, and sleeping).  Routine can lead to rut which can lead to the big sad, and that is just not cool because then I start asking myself, what is the point, really? 

(Conversation with a co-worker today: 
 Me: "I just don't really get it.  Doesn't it make you angry?  That so much of your day is sucked up with this...routine stuff?  That we get up, go to work, go home, go the sleep, get up, go to work and on and on until we die?  Like, what is the point?"
Co-worker: "That is the point."
Me: "Uh.  Okay.  But...")

That's when I start to think that perhaps I am defective.  For thousands of years, humans have accepted the fact that that is, essentially, what life is.  But, I've always kind of been looking for something more.  And I know that I ultimately control this...that I can choose how I will spend my free-time (limited though it is), that I can take pleasure in daily routine, can be mindful, etc. 

But sometimes it is just easier to complain.

Going back to work after a two week break was bad news.  It's like I went from living the way I wanted to, to being forced to bend to this schedule that actually hurts; that makes me feel pretty depleted.  After the first two days I kind of crashed and burned, but I decided to try something new by the third day.  I came home from work, mind numb and completely exhausted...flopped down on my unmade bed and then willed myself to get up and do yoga.  While it was a struggle (like big time, dude, haha) I held on for an hour...and by the end felt slightly...better.  I felt like I would be able to use the three hours I had before bed more fully...and went to sleep feeling more satisfied and less grim.

And, it's like I've always known that that would be the case...that resisting the urge to laze and wallow would ultimately pay off in the long run, no matter how exhausted and empty I feel.  But thinking about doing something and ACTUALLY doing it are so disjointed, haha.

Finally, that brings me to the song I posted!  I borrowed this CD from the library when I worked there.  At the time I didn't know who David Byrne was, but there was something about the album cover that piqued my interest.  I fell head over heels when I heard the opening track, "Glass, Concrete & Stone" and got sort of stuck on it.  This song makes me think of early, early morning.  Of slowly waking up, shuffling about, getting ready for the day (that "Now, I'm waking at the crack of dawn" line does help).  I hope I am not using a Jill-ism incorrectly, but I love the layers of this song...there is so much happening all at once, so many different sounds--quiet, loud...they build and fade into the background--listening to it makes my ears super-attuned.  I think the opening sounds so delicate...like tiptoeing...like trying to sneak out of the house without waking anybody up.  I love David Byrne's voice (I only made the connection between him and The Talking Heads much later, haha) and the way he sings the lyrics, where he takes his pauses and how quickly or slowly he says the words.  I think the most perfect part (lyrically) is:

"Skin, that covers me from head to toe
except a couple tiny holes and openings
Where, the city's blowin' in and out
this is what it's all about, delightfully"

I think what made me pick this song is that yes, it is about "routine"--that there is a kind of coldness to it, but at the same time this lightness...an underlying possibility of escape...of breaking away.