Marty Diamond sent me the most fascinating book.

"High Crimes" is the story of the 2004 Connecticut Everest Expedition.  But it’s much more than that.  It’s an expose of the exploits of lying, cheating scumbags atop the world’s highest mountain.  If someone steals your oxygen bottle in the death zone, you might be residing upon the mountain for eternity, with an appellation like "Green Boots", your real name being wholly forgotten.

You can’t put "High Crimes" down, but I’m finding it difficult to pick up.  Because it reads best at night, when the darkness envelops you and you’re not distracted, when you can become engrossed and creeped out.

Ten days ago I noticed that the light had changed.  I emerged from the Flamingo Hotel in Santa Rosa before noon and the light was no longer as intense as it was in July, it was clear, fall was coming.

I’ve learned to hate summer.  It’s just too hot.  But when the days get shorter, it’s like a death, an endless wake for what once was.  Both good times and possibilities unfulfilled.  But those longer nights change your mood, give you time to reflect, allow you to get caught up in the reverie of a great book, a great record.

Some songs are made for sunshine.  They make you feel exuberant, they make you feel alive.  Whereas other numbers play best when the sun is down, they’re less about living than reflection.  What do you think about when you turn out the light and lay your head on your pillow, when you’re fully alone?  A song that captures what’s in your head at that moment reaches you the way no ditty ever can.

Why is it we always think about love when we hit the pillow?  Opportunities squandered, victories and losses.  It’s hard to live with the losses.

I was hiking in the mountains after dark, listening to my iPod on shuffle, and a song got under my skin, demanded I play it again and again.  It wasn’t a hit, not something I’d heard previously on the radio, at this point I owned it, it hadn’t been exploited by the media, it was like discovering gold in a world where the standard is silver.

That’s a great record.  It exists in its own space only.  You stumble upon it and it sticks to you.  Not only do you have to play it again and again, you’ve got to go see the act live, to hear it performed.

Did you check the tires
Put gas in the car
Don’t think you need too much, ’cause you ain’t gonna get that far
Did you pack the good times
Don’t forget a map
Just in case the route you take isn’t there to take you back

That’s how you finally break up, it’s clean.  This is not a skirmish, not another argument, you’re determined.  Everything you’ve left behind you don’t need, you’re moving on.  You’re running on adrenaline.

Why is it some people leave and others stay?  Certain people can only be held temporarily.  It doesn’t matter who’s on the other side, a time comes in the relationship when their significant other needs to move on.  For to be held is to reveal too much, to be trapped.  And the person left behind is more than heartbroken, it’s like a piece of their soul has been ripped out of their body and taken along in the baggage of their ex.  They’re left with so many questions, and very few answers.  Meanwhile, their ex has already logged so many miles…  And you want them to come back.  But they never do soon enough.  You finally give up on their return, and if they ever do want to come back, you’ve been too bruised, too hurt, the wound has healed to the point where you don’t want to reopen it.  And why is it if they ever do come back, they beg, then they leave again?

You can hold any girl that you like
Fall in love when it’s easy at night
But, you’ll wake up wondering why she ain’t ever something better
When you’re lost and you’ve run out of road
Find out what I already know
In the end closer’s all there is
But you won’t find this
No, you won’t find this

Some people find it easy to fall in love.  But when the good times sour, when the day to day supersedes the romance, they flap their wings and alight on someone new.  You’ve dedicated your life to them, you can’t recover quite that fast, meanwhile, they’re shtupping someone else.  And what do you tell yourself?  That they’re never going to find anybody better than you.  And you’re usually right, but that doesn’t matter.

There’s once in a lifetime
And there’s once in a while
And the difference between the two is about a million miles
Oh, you might get lucky while the moon is looking up
But in the truth of the morning, the stars will be long gone

I like how the road metaphor is maintained.  How the distance between once in a lifetime and once in a while is a million miles.  This is what the Nashville writers for hire specialize in, craft.  But someone has to sell the song, and if you’re lucky it’s the biggest star of the day, someone like Carrie Underwood.

Once in a lifetime it’s right.  The question is whether you keep waiting for the truth to reveal itself.  Some say they know it when they find it, but does anybody really?  Meanwhile, the sand falls through the hourglass, your life slips from your fingers, you’ve got lines in your face, you feel less desirable, and you think about what once was.  Those who’ve been left hope you do.  But you usually don’t, that’s for them.  The left are sentimental, the leavers always believe perfection is right around the corner.  How did you ever hook up in the first place?

Relationships take work.  As do careers and great music.  The dedication exceeds the talent required.  You’ve got to stick out the bad times.  And more bad.  To maybe get to the good.

And Carrie Underwood got a rocket to the top via television.  But she didn’t write this song.  The writers have miles on them.  They’re the left, not the leaver.  You have to be to write a song like "You Won’t Find This".

You can hold any girl that you like
Fall in love when it’s easy at night
But, you’ll wake up wondering why she ain’t ever something better
When you’re lost and you’ve run out of road
Find out what I already know
In the end closer’s all there is
Oh, in the end it’s me you’re going to miss
‘Cause you won’t find this
Oh, you won’t find this

Everybody’s a dreamer.  But it takes more than dreams to make it to the top of Everest.  The ascent is uglier than most people know.  Most listeners have no idea what it takes to write a song like "You Won’t Find This" and get it on a Carrie Underwood album.  But, when they hear it, they understand.

Amazing that such a process can result in such truth.  But maybe that’s country.  Whereas rap was the word of truth, today country is where you go for honesty.

Still, those closed out of the decrepit system bitch.  That today’s country isn’t yesterday’s, that they don’t have opportunities.  But it’s a long way to the top if you want to rock and roll.  If you’re not willing to be screwed, you’re not willing to make it.  If you’re not willing to face insurmountable odds, give up right now.

And that’s what some people do when they’ve been left once again.  Give up.  They’re too old, been too hurt, they’ve got their job, their friends, they don’t want to take another risk.

Maybe it’s true, they pick the wrong type, they search for the unholdable, to complete themselves, to inject all the risk they don’t possess.  But unless you’ve got someone willing to hang in for the long haul, you’ve got nothing but a warm body, temporarily.  Until you’re willing to give someone with warts a chance, you’ve got none.  Those people in the photographs aren’t real, just airbrushed to perfection, dreams.  But what do we do in a world where they tell us our dreams are achievable?

Listen to music to get us through.

"You Won’t Find This" is okay during the day.  But at night, when the loneliness creeps in, when you wonder where your life is going, when you tote up your victories and your losses, it’s exquisite.

Carrie Underwood Music
(Click on "You Won’t Find This", track 9, a player will launch, and in a few seconds, the song will start to play.)