Walt Whitman Bridge

Got two shoelaces and two shoes
I should toss ‘em on the telephone wire as a monument to my blues

I think that I'm coming out of my funk.

Maricela was my role model this morning. She is into music in a big way, as in even if its just going down the stairs she plugs into something and listens. Like she looks up to John Cusack's character in the movie High Fidelity. Like we hold our breath waiting for the RIAA to subpeona our harddrive. Etc. etc.

So in that spirit I downloaded some new music today, like I hadn't done in awhile. New as in it came out in this century. After some noodling around on the web, I downloaded the latests from Marah, the Decembrists, and the New Pornographers. Maricela and me had an argument over whether you could call Marah "new", but I was gratified that she approved of my other two choices.

On my run this morning I slapped on my iPod and got about to digesting this music. I'm amazed that I haven't gotten my grubby little hands on this Marah cd earlier. I used to be a big fan and then lost touch as, in an effort to hit bigtime they seemed to dePhillyfy their music and lost more than that in the process. They seem to get that back in If You Didn't Laugh, You'd Cry. I nearly did cry when I got to the song "Walt Whitman Bridge"; there it was - everything I love about Marah. I put it on repeat and listened to it again and again. The lines at the start of this post are from there.

Perfect music to run through West Philly with on yet another beautiful morning. I actually recycled an old gmap which mapped a route to Cobbs Creek and back home down Warrington, and then called an audible and added a stretch that took me around the future McLeary-Nike Track (or is that the other way around) and down some trails to the horse stables. Legs were a bit worn but quickly fell into line with the strains of Marah. Respecting my plans for a mini taper, the total loop was 6 miles in 46:39.

Faraway from these winter streets
On a cloudless day
Your memory, your memory. . .
Blows away