A greatest hits collection or perhaps forgotten tracks, by a band I’d never heard before yesterday, originally called Bergen Kremer and now LETOVGORODE… and before that, Motorama whom I really enjoyed, kind of a post-Soviet, post-punk pop band. What do they sound like? Well, maybe if the album art above made music it would approximate these tracks. It’s cold and icy, like the weather outside this morning. It’s 6am frozen morning music, before anyone else is up and about. It’s those meandering morning thoughts, before any specific focus has set in.

That’s right about where things sit this morning. No specific focus has come to the foreground and taken over the rest. There’s nothing moving fast enough that the whole scene could be called chaotic. No worry, or fear, or even happy thought is struggling for dominance. There’s enough space in there for everything for the moment. Maybe all these thoughts will go back to bed before the work day starts. Maybe not. I don’t care either way. It’s Friday and the week moved faster than expected. It wasn’t the hellishly long short work week I’d thought it might be. It just slid right along on the pandemic ice, not like a figure skater, but in a smooth, swift straight line, unbothered but still moving quickly.

The snow stopped yesterday evening for the most part and there was a steady, frozen mist all night that accumulated into a hard sugar-frosting that crunched beneath my boots at 6:30, out with the dog. It wasn’t quite peaceful. It’s never quite peaceful. With all the traffic it’s often a state of almost there, too much going on to be entirely quiet. People moving here and there. This is the city, of course, that never sleeps. There are people working somewhere all night, or headed to and from work. Somehow a lot of them just seem to be out and moving for the sake of it though. Like they’re just driving because something impels them forward with no real direction or purpose except a hesitancy to go home to whatever is waiting there. There are mornings when I’m out doing my own thing that I’ll see the same cars pass by, like they’re just circling for the sake of it, like if they just make one more circuit something interesting or new might happen.

Go home and go to sleep, folks. If there’s a place to go, just go. You’re not missing anything, except good pillow time. It’s not that I don’t get it. There are early mornings when there’s no place to go that something pulls me out of my bed and gets me moving, with no real reason. But take my advice. Go home if you can manage. Rest. That’s my sage wisdom for the morning. Go home if there’s a home to go to.

Go.