Slip sliding away...

I swear, music has healing power. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Wasn't exactly ready to meet the day. Bunch of reasons, none of which matter. It got worse quickly, one of those mornings that cause you to think, "Hmm -- should've stayed in bed."

But, nah. Up pops Paul Simon and the Oak Ridge Boys singing "Slip Sliding Away."

Simon will cure what ails you anyway. Seeing William Lee Golden hit baritone notes behind him, while the other Oaks sway back and forth? Well, if that doesn't put a smile on your face, you're one cold-hearted dude.

A little later I watched Earl Scruggs and The Byrds go to town on Bob Dylan's "You Ain't Going Nowhere." Don't ask me why, but it all works. Scruggs' banjo pickin' slips in between the harmony, as if it had been there all along, waiting in the background while McGuinn sang lead.

But, I'm in a mellow mood today, so I do some more surfing and find Simon again -- reunited with Garfunkel, in Central Park -- their voices smooth as silk together, wrapping around the notes like dew falling on green grass in the early morning.

Hello darkness my old friend, they sing, and we wonder why on earth they ever drifted apart.

By noon I was hungry but otherwise feeling like I could spread out on the ground by a lake somewhere, skip a few stones across the water, watch the afternoon slip out of the horizon, dream about women and read a little Hemingway.

Oh, well. You know what they say.

The nearer your destination, the more you're slip sliding away...