I thought I was too old to fall in love again — until two chords proved me wrong
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I’ll see you in September
In September, I rode a ferry up to Alaska. This was not a cruise. It was a ferry, with dogs and trucks and locals. It took three days. There was no TV on board, nothing much to do.
That’s when I realized how close I felt to Almost Monday. I would hang around on deck for a couple of hours, then go back to my bunk and listen to “Jupiter” and “Can’t Slow Down.”
I dug up some of their other songs that I’d downloaded. Now I had time to listen to these closely and develop new favorites.
It was fun because in my mind these were “summer songs,” but every hour we steamed north on the ferry, it got colder.
Summer was not fading away over a month or two, like usual. It was fading hour by hour.
So I binged on the summer sounds of Almost Monday, as the skies grew dark and people on deck started wearing down parkas.
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A favorite band is like a best friend. It is the first person you want to talk to in the morning. And the last person you want to hear from before you go to bed. During the day, you don’t need to be in constant contact, but you’re relieved when you’re in their presence again.
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Now I’m back in Portland. It’s wet and cold, but I still listen to Almost Monday every day.
I hope they make it big. Or big enough to never have to get normal jobs.
That’s all I ever wish for, for my fellow creatives: I hope they make some money. I never wish for them wild success or huge fame. That can be bad for a person.
But I do want them to make enough money that they can be artists for the rest of their lives. And not have to worry about paying their rent.
In music, sometimes all it takes is to write a couple great songs (and own the publishing rights). I know Almost Monday has already accomplished that. So hopefully the rest is gravy.
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