Happiness pt. 3

What a difference a year makes. For instance, nearly a month ago I posted Track 4 of the vaunted PK 27, Jesse Winchester's "Step by Step," a song which was brought to my attention by the finale of The Wire's inaugural season. Back in late-2006, by my own estimate and research, it was harder to find Osama bin Laden or the Gräfenberg spot than Winchester's gem of a song. Nowadays, not so much. Word to Wikipedia and word of mouth*.

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This time last year (as recently as 4 months ago, even), I was mourning the death of my passion for video games, an affliction that the illustrious and praiseworthy K-Hot could not resurrect, despite a valiant effort. (Word to Marvel Ultimate Alliance and snake whisky.) These days, not so much -- thanks to the Nintendo DS, aka The Little Handheld that Could, pka Psychedelic Methadone. Yeah, The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass -- while a kickass game -- is just my way of transitioning toward the Wii and Twilight Princess; but even if I don't make the grade, I'm still good. I still remember my roots.

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Speaking of which, in terms of hip-hop music, El-P's sophomore effort, I'll Sleep When You're Dead, helped soften the blow that the best hip-hop release of last year was the Roots' Game Theory. By no means is that meant as a slight on the Roots for delivering a very good album, but when your competition is none, you're only no. 1 by default. And when -- I never believed I'd see the day, either -- the current-best hip-hop label, Definitive Jux, is fronted mostly by a bunch of white guys, there has to be some pride at stake, no?

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It's October 4th. Last year, 'bout this time, the weather was a lot warmer. I remember it was above 20 degrees Celcius by the end of the month, then. This year we had a spell in early-September where it seemed as though an early fall was coming, but then a warm front hit to remind me that good things come to those wait. And wait some more.

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Perhaps if I were more literal and not

(such a control freak)

the ghost of vague wisdom I've become, I'd explain all about the promise that spring and autumn winds hold. How they get up in your nostrils and harken a primordial instinct when you least suspect. A drive that propels you. To reason, ruin, or somewhere in between. Perhaps to arrogance. (Hey, it's better than amateur poetry.)

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To quote Sheryl Crow, if it makes you happy, it can't be that bad.

I'm happy. Happier than a lark.

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[It's Tuesday, February 10th, 2009. On Mars. Still smiling, but wondering whether or not I was happier on October 5th, 2007. Will research.]



* although I trust neither