Fading up
What if I just stopped talking so much?
We’re in the car I call Nelly (she’s a habanero orange VW Tiguan, born in Mexico and purchased during the pandemic). I love her but she needs some TLC right now. My husband is driving me down to the Virgin Hotel on Music Row so I don’t have to deal with the bullshit Nashville tourist traffic. To be fair, the Virgin isn’t downtown —yay. Downtown Nashville sucks these days and we never go down there unless to see a show at the Ryman like I did last night —more on that later—or go the Frist Art Museum. (Note to self: you don’t go to the Frist enough to make your membership worth it, but I can put a pin in that). The Virgin Hotel, yes the one owned by Sir Richard Branson, who a few years ago, completed what Bruce Haring at Deadline called “his trek into space, a place where no billionaire has gone before.” Except his pal Elon Musk.
Anyway, I digress. The hotel is also near Vanderbilt, but surprisingly not overrun with Delta Gammas and Phi Beta Taos getting their drink on in jorts and cowboy boots (that Nashville look that screams ‘I live in Nashville and go to honky tonks on Broadway but I’m really from L.A. and when I graduate will likely go back home and work in Hollywood.’) I was reminded it’s a pretty sweet hotel with a country music theme (of course) but well done.
My good friend Ruby Rae (check her out, she is fire) was playing a songwriters round in the lobby with another really badass musician, Tracee Perrin, whom you should also check out as her voice and lyrics have brought me to the verge of tears both times I’ve seen her play. She has a new EP out called The Clearing, and yes I bought it and one of her homemade candles and oh, yeah a necklace made by her supremely talented husband, jewelry designer and ex-professional dancer now teaching at my daughter’s dance studio. You should definitely check him out too. Whew, that was a lot! How does one couple possess so much mind-blowing creativity and talent? I’ll never understand it. Though living in Nashville as long as I have makes it somewhat unsurprising. This town is FULL to the brim with artists, musicians, creatives, who make me feel like a total loser.
Again, I can’t keep my thoughts contained which was the purpose of this essay. I talk too much. My mind goes to thoughts, memories, stories every minute of everyday, no matter who I’m talking to. Could be my husband, my daughter, my friend, the cashier at Kroger. I’m constantly making associations about everything and everyone and then talking about them. It’s fucking exhausting. For me and everyone else who has to listen to me.
Back to the car ride to the hotel for my one-and-a half hours of fun on a Monday night. Husband is driving, I’m excited so, naturally, I tell husband—who grew up here—how to get there because, as all my friends will tell you, I’m a notorious backseat driver. I’m working on it. I’m getting more and more excited but it’s a short ride so I pack in a lot in the 10 min. it takes to get there. As we cross over the Korean Vets bridge, he slowly just turns up the music (his music, Tom Petty Wildflowers) and says, “I’m fading up,” LOL. As in fade out, ease it down (or up), drown out the constant babble coming from the lunatic in the passenger’s seat.
Why am I like this? Also, how lucky am I to have such a quietly tolerant partner who knows just how to make the energy in the room, or the car, match his mood when it (I’m) getting out of control. He gets me, he knows my struggles. And he knows I am a gregarious, extroverted, loquacious woman who talks a lot, often about stuff only I think is interesting. Oh, my daughter’s new thing is flippantly telling me to “Wrap it up.” hahahahaha
How many times have I made it my goal (Every January 1?) to talk less and listen more. As one of my great meditation teachers, Gordon Peerman said, “God’s first language is silence.” And one of his teachers, “One of those slow ones is worth 10 of those fast ones.” I’ll get there, but I also want to keep talking, keep noticing, keep being fun. So tell me, Is my annoying habit keeping you entertained or frustrated as hell?
Wow, I didn’t mean to make this the whole newsletter today. Here I am, buzzing about. Don’t forget to subscribe to Daily Joy. It helps me stop talking into the void.