R&R

Homesickness. A rotten companion. Sydney has a serious Manhattan jones so I'm whacked upside the heart with images of iconic NYC symbols daily; the web is my street corner dealer feeding my US news, sports and political fix; photos of family & friends unload memories like the tropical cyclone that flooded half of NSW last week.

But ... sometimes ... it isn't enough. Today I engaged two additional armaments in the fight:

#1. Rush in Rio, an astounding 2004 live recording of Canada's greatest export (Gretzky could score, but he couldn't DRUM). It's a 31-song amusement ride through my teenage years and a sonic testament to a geek-beloved-trio who've sidestepped the trapdoors of fame and never once sullied their attitudes with irony or posing (haircuts are another matter, but who am I to talk?). If you've never heard 40,000 people singing along to an INSTRUMENTAL, then you must watch this. Listening to 55-year-old Neil Peart lord over his sprawling drum kit had me air-drumming at my desk this morning, like I used to try to mimic his mastery behind my own drum kit. Unlike nearly all of their peers, Rush is not a nostalgia trip -- the bone-rattling musicianship of Snakes & Arrows has dumbfounded critics who declared them dead decades ago. If I could only find that 6-foot Rush poster that hung in my bedroom for all those years ......

and #2. A box of Ritz crackers. Ate a sleeve. Felt a little guilty. And a little less homesick.