How do you figure this?

Okay, so yesterday, as witness my blog posts, I was a blubbering neurotic wreck with extreme doubts about my whole position in the human continuum. I got like 4 hours of sleep or so and was in to work at 6:30 am.

Now--get this--my day actually went fairly well, fairly quickly, and I am in fairly good spirits. Just a few minutes ago when I was taking the dogs on their little early evening mini-walk, I found myself humming a Billy S.-trademark overdone rendition of "Any Way You Want It" by Journey (with a guttral Eric Moore* type voice) and framing imaginary artsy photos of the abandoned warehouse across the street which I'd be taking if only I still had that D80 that I sold. Whoa! My 1) unmistakable sense of humor, and 2) my creative/curious instincts, both bubbling within my brain at the same time...strong shades of my old self returning, if only for a fleeting few minutes! Hope is yet not lost!!!! Now I need to move hell and paradise to grasp it and not let it slip away.

*The lead singer of the seminal late '70s Columbus-based biker-rock band The Godz, of "Gotta Keep A Runnin'" fame (sample of Moore's hilarious, hick-accented, inebriated monologue-cum-rally speech: "Look at us. We're everything your parents ever warned you about....Some people say that rock n' roll is dead, [becoming increasingly strident] but Godz rock n' roll ain't dead...We can't see straight, we can't think straight...and someday there'll be thousands of us! Thousands of Godz rock n' roll machines!"). If ever there was a personification of my dear old North-side neighborhood when I was in grade school--literally, as my brother John tells me they lived on or near Tompkins Street, a few blocks from our house and on the way to my school-- it was this group of longhaired, tattooed, hard drinkin' white trash rockers. John fondly recalls himself and his junior high school buddies hangin' out with them at the bar after a gig at the legendary Stache's club (RIP). Don Brewer of Grand Funk Railroad produced their first LP (of which John still has five or six copies), they got some press coverage at the time in hard-rock rags like Creem, and then disappeared without a trace. And I have no idea why I wrote an entire paragraph reminiscing about an admittedly minor '70s rock footnote other than it provided a nostalgic respite for a homesick Columbusite.