How Do You Do Business With A Man Who Has No Door?

Running an online business from a big city is relatively easy once you get the hang of things. Running an online business from a small, remote town? Tricky on even the best of days.

Life can throw a fork-in-the-road at you and this past spring my fork became a narrow single lane path with no place to turn around. Now, here I am. In a small mountain town trying to adjust after so many years living a life in Atlanta.

This has been an enormous learning experience as I've had no other choice but to adjust to the circumstances and find a way to make things work. Little things take on a new dimension. Run out of basic office supplies? Unless I want to consume an hour or two of my day to make a trip to a bigger town, I have no other choice than ordering these things online or hitting up the local Super Wal-Mart.

Even essentials like looking for good, new inventory is a challenge for me now as the nearest mid-sized city is an hour's drive away, in Chattanooga. Yard sales are very hit or miss and become an all day event with a half tank of gas being burned just getting "there and back".

Little tricks to get around these obstacles can be learned, and I believe I'm adjusting relatively well to the new way of doing things, but it is depressing because the changes are so drastic and fundamental in nature. Uprooting is harsh, regardless of the circumstances.

Still, I keep working and in many ways the very act of selling records is making this sea-change in life slightly less difficult. There are new records to play grade and filling my workspace with music brings ideas and hope and purpose. It isn't all gloom, there are small pleasures with the changes.

A "line" at the Post Office now means one or two people in line in front of me and that's a "bad" day. As friendly as the postal workers could be in Atlanta, it's still no match for small town postal workers. My local Post Office was constructed in 1937, very old-timey. The entrance is an old wood and glass vestibule and the lobby prominently displays a large mural that was painted as part of the New Deal/WPA programs.

My work area at home is setup so that I can gaze to my left where there is a double window and see a long mountain ridge that is part of the Chattahoochee National Forest. It's delightfully absurd to look outside, lost in noisy chaotic music, and see that glorious mountain view. It's also quite calming to have a classical LP playing and look out the window to see hummingbirds feeding just feet away.

At night I can drive up to the top of the ridge, pull onto the shoulder of the road and look north to Chattanooga. Stepping outside my Jeep I can see the lights of the city glowing 40 or so miles away. On nights with a full moon I can see the valleys and hills from that vantage point. I've done this a few times in the months since I've moved, usually late at night when there is no traffic and when I need to think.

I think about the city. I think about Atlanta. I think about what is gone and what is yet to come. Regrets and good memories come and go, always in pairs, moments I can't let go of and the ones that won't let go of me. Each time I leave the ridge I want to drive south to Atlanta instead of heading north. That moment in time is gone, and for now, I have records to listen to.

Life changes. Finding a better way isn't always possible but I am trying to find a new way.

Back In The Saddle Again?

My God, two years have passed without posting to this blog. I would love to write off the lapse to laziness and apathy but these things are always more complex. I'll settle with apathy in this case. It seems easiest to explain.

Nothing of a planned nature brought me to log onto blogger this morning, no epiphany, no incredible live show last night to inspire and bring me back to the living. Just an odd case of Musical Ear Syndrome.

What is Musical Ear Syndrome? It is auditory hallucination. Having a song or songs stuck in your head and you can't make it stop. In my case it was waking up this past Friday (or was it Thursday or Saturday?) with a melody in my head, something that felt familiar but I just couldn't remember where it was from. No lyrics, just the music. Washing my hands, I heard the melody. Writing an email, could hear a chord change. Walking my dog, vaguely recalled part of the bridge. Trying to fall asleep, impossible because the chorus was in my head on a loop. Do that for a few days, at Christmas no less, and you will seriously question your sanity.

The mystery was solved this morning as the chorus again ran through my mind while I made coffee. Words came like a silver thread, "Mighty Joe Moon can't prevent what is heaven sent". Major "a-ha! moment. I remembered it was a song and the name of an album by Grant Lee Buffalo. I pulled the CD out of a box I had packed away last spring when I moved, and as I stood there and looked at the cover art, I wondered how long it had been since I listened to this album. 1994? 1995? When? I honestly can't remember. Odd how these things happen.

In a short while I'm going to sit down with my coffee and get re-acquainted with this album. What I do remember was that "Mighty Joe Moon" and "Fuzzy" had a very strong impact on me around 1993-94. They were calming and grounding during a noisy period of living. Fond is the emotion I feel.

Maybe my apathy has been nothing more than another noisy period?