The Making of ‘silent summer’ by dexthguxrd

I remember when quarantine started, me and my girlfriend were ecstatic. All of a sudden, our free time skyrocketed, we could play videogames and chill every day with our cat, Ted. Social obligations were replaced by sitting on the couch and talking about what to do with our new found free time like we were some kind of pirates that just dug up some treasure on a desert island, and I knew exactly what to do with my cut of the booty. I was going to write an album! Finally, yes I know, I was really going to do it this time.

The idea of ‘silent summer’ was born in a hopefully not-insensitive reference to Rachel Carson’s 1962 wakeup call, ‘Silent Spring’, that brought to light the ravages of the pesticide DDT on our natural world. I wanted to make a goofy comment on the social and cultural shift caused by COVID-19, but mostly I just wanted to make music. Although this project started as a Vaporwave pipe dream, I think I missed the mark. What fell out of my head into the computer were whispers of a hyper-idealized summer daydream stuffed into a few minutes of sound.

As the blurry wheel of quarantine time drudged on, ‘silent summer’ felt like a self-fulfilling prophecy. The biggest thrill was going to the grocery store once a week and summer passed without a splash. The source of inspiration for this album gradually shifted from “ghost of summer’s past” to musings about the fishbowl that me, my girlfriend, and Ted occupied.

Staying out until the sun comes up, night surfing, concerts and sunsets all took a back seat to the small joys of apartment living: making coffee, feeding ted, making the bed. My girlfriend and I would go out onto the patio every morning we could to drink coffee while Ted said Good Morning to the plants and screamed at any outdoor cat that dared to venture close to the fence.

I had a bountiful harvest of inspiration to choose from, but my own lack of talent multiplied by my lack of work ethic could only spin the golden thread of my happy home into a handful of songs and an interlude wrapped into the fraudulently official-sounding package of “EP”

Over-promised and under-delivered, the now-EP ‘silent summer’ was finally ready to go in October! All I needed was the album cover, which was great because my girlfriend and I were heading to Sequoia National Park. We climbed the many winding steps to the top of Morro Peak where it looked like we could see the entire word. The setting sun cast the world below into the image and likeness of an Aquafina water bottle.

It was there at the top that a kind photographer asked us if we wanted our picture taken and of course we said yes. He said he would take one of us sitting beyond the railing, watching the sun set. As we hopped over the railing I paused, thinking of all the people who “slip and fall” to their deaths in National Parks, but the photographer turned out to not be a serial killer! He asked me for my email so he could send us the picture, and we said thank you so much that I think we wore it out and he got weirded out and left. But ‘silent summer’ now had an album cover and was complete! At least it would be whenever the cool photographer from San Diego got around to sending it, but it was done!

And then the worst week of my time so far on Earth happened.

On Monday, October 19th Ted started breathing a little funny. Really shallow and fast, we poked around the idea of going to the Animal Hospital, then we saw that only half of his food was still left in his bowl. We called the Animal Hospital, and they said it sounded fine but we should bring him in. We joked in the waiting room about him just having to throw up. He used to always eat this fern we had to make himself throw up if he wasn’t feeling too hot. Then a nurse came in saying they put him in critical care, then another nurse came in asking if we wanted to authorize CPR if it was needed, then nothing. We drove around for hours reassuring each other that everything was fine.

We came back at midnight after no updates, and the receptionist told us to come back in the morning.

Tuesday, October 20th was the worst day of my existence on Earth. It started with a phone call from the Animal Hospital kindly letting us know at 6 am that if we didn’t come get him by 7 am there would be a late fee. I rushed over to get Ted and I finally got to see him.

He poked his head out of the bag to see me. He was in congestive heart failure and his lungs were filling up with fluid. The drugs they gave him overnight didn’t get the fluid out. They said there was a vet an hour away who was cardiologist. I sped down I-10 and ran out of gas. When I filled up I was in such a rush that I was back on the highway with the gas cap still off. When I got in they said they did not have a cardiologist. They gave me a list of cardiologists, and I stood outside the vet with Ted in his bag calling everyone asking if they had a cardiologist.

I finally found a cardiologist that was based another hour away in another animal hospital. It felt so weird talking to him in those moments, it was like a manic episode of just saying, “We need you,” over and over again.

When we got to the hospital I handed over Ted in his bag and his records from the first Animal Hospital. They said it would be a four hour wait, but given his condition, they might be able to see him a bit sooner. I watched them take him away and that image will always be burned into my brain, like the last time everything was normal.

A few hours later at the hospital I got the call. I went home to pick up my girlfriend, and we returned to put our best friend to sleep.

The past few days have been waves of sadness and bits of sunshine thinking remembering our lonk boi. Quarantine had brought us all closer together than ever. Ted would sit on my lap for hours while working from home. I still check for him when I put my feet up on the couch, or when I see a shadow go by on the patio. I still expect the slam of the glass door to be followed by a “Meh,” of gratitude from Ted after being let in. His heart was too big. I know having a physically large heart is not the same as having a large capacity for love, but every facet of this cat shined like a diamond. He was imperfectly perfect, and he filled our lives to the brim with happiness.

I decided ‘silent summer’ wasn’t about Morro Peak or some idealized version of what I thought summer was and how COVID-19 changed it. ‘silent summer’ was really about the little things. It was about having coffee in the morning with my girlfriend and Ted while he said good morning to our plants on the patio. ‘silent summer’ is the goofiness and joy that Ted brought us, and my amateur transcription of his sunshine.

silent summer | https://soundcloud.com/dexthguxrd