The situation:
- At 9:47 pm Monday night, I ran out of wine.
- I have been eating Haribo gummy raspberries as meals for three days straight.
- I actually watched a Sex and the City marathon and now I hate myself a little.
- My toddler has been home from daycare/I am not a “Pinterest mom”/I think my son now knows how to say “stir-crazy” but also “am I a Charlotte or a Carrie?”
- I have been wearing the same black leggings and Def Leppard sweatshirt for four days but my hair looks like Joe Savage’s, which is clearly no coincidence.
Here’s the thing. I’m not afraid of snow. Growing up, school was rarely cancelled for anything less than 3 feet of the stuff, and I remember trudging to class at NYU during a blizzard so powerful the wind blew me over and forced me to sit through Creative Writing 101 with the entire seat of my pants soaked with dirty city sleet. But, for whatever reason, when weather happens here, nothing keeps going. The place stops like a tick in Rod Sterling’s stopwatch in a particularly creepy episode of the Twilight Zone. And I’m fine with that – safety first. But that also means I have been stuck inside of Nashville with the ice storm blues again and again and again, and so have you. Cabin fever creeps consumes you like a rash, itching, growing.
So what does one do, marooned in East Nashville with nothing but sugar and daytime television and little ability to actual work due to a small person constantly tugging on your leg? Well, this. So, behold, Lockeland Springsteen’s Guide to Not Going Insane During the Ice-pocalypse :::
1. Obsessively arrange all your LPs and CDs. Yes, everyone, I still also own CDs. But I haven’t really looked at them since 2012 or so, and yesterday seemed as good an opportunity as any to go through them and decide whether or not I should finally get rid of Snow’s 12 Inches of Snow (verdict: NO) or the twenty live Pearl Jam cd’s (verdict: also NO). I was, however, able to dispose of the Smith Westerns and a broken Radiohead jewel case. Success.
2. Search Youtube for obscure and weird videos of bands embarrassing themselves. When watching cool things like live clips of the Ramones at CBGB became too taxing, I turned to humiliation. This one where the lead singer of Judas Priest falls off his motorcycle on stage is pretty classic, as is Steven Tyler’s unintentional stage dive. But, I mean, who can beat this jig?
3. Listening to every record in Ryan Adams’ Live After Deaf box set. Current favorite: June 20th show at Barbican, London. Particularly “My Winding Wheel.” Note: also very popular with toddlers. Strangely.
4. Pretending its summertime by listening to albums that make you think of that one afternoon where you sat outside on the patio at Rosepeppers drinking margaritas and it was 80 degrees out and you were complaining that it was too warm and drinking tequila and someone drove by blasting that Of Monsters and Men song that you’ve heard way too many times but you didn’t care because of the tequila and oh what would you give for that moment so you just listen to that Of Monsters and Men song again and close your eyes and will for it to happen. End scene. (Note: this doesn’t mean I like Of Monsters and Men).
5. Walk to whatever your closest East Nashville mini-market is and see what $20 can get you. In my case, this is one pack of Haribo raspberries, one pack of gummy bears, a small thing of junior mints, pretzels, two packets of hot cocoa (no marshmallows), three cans of tuna, two bottles of ginger ale and one roll of paper towels. Will probably be back for beer (see: “At 9:47 pm Monday night, I ran out of wine.”)
6. Narcissistically review and categorize your own work. There is nothing more fantastically self-indulgent than going back over essays you wrote in college comparing Bob Dylan’s “Dignity” with T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men” and filing it into an “early work” computer folder, and then re-reading every article you wrote in 2009. This is about learning from past mistakes, everyone. Or, if we want to be real about it, trying to exchange temporary ice-induced insanity with an inflated sense of self.
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. Read music biographies/autobiographies to your toddler. It is very important for young children to learn about Keith Richards, punk music and Miles. This is my opinion, anyway. Helps when you read said biographies in a fairy-tale and/or animal voice. My son especially enjoys this Richards quote read in the voice of a small British rabbit: “And then I think we realized, like any young guys, that blues are not learned in a monastery. You’ve got to go out there and get your heart broke and then come back and then you can sing the blues.” Did I mention I’m not a Pinterest mom?
Keep warm, Nashville. And keep from going insane. P.S, please excuse the general lack of elegance in the writing of this blog post. It’s hard to be such when a toddler is grabbing at your ankles, asking for more Keith Richards.
Best,
M
Lockeland Springsteen 