Bjergtaget in Danish or bergtatt in Swedish... Both essentially meaning the same thing. Taken by the mountain people or mountain-taken, it describes the peculiar feeling one experiences when surrounded by peaks and valleys of mountain ranges. In Norwegian folklore, being bergtatt means to be lured by the sub terrestrial spirits of the mountains, into the very rock itself, to the halls of the mountain king. Essentially, being spellbound by the mountains themselves.
As a verified flatlander, I really feel that. I came across the Danish word on a post written by Myrkur years ago and knew that meaning in my flatland bones. The call of the mountain people. I've always known my destiny lies in the peaks. Knew it when I first read Heidi and then saw a German adaptation in the 80s, knew it when we all were subjected to the Sound of Music, knew it when I first walked through the foothills of the Austrian Alps, knew it when flying over the Rockies, the first time seeing Mount Rainier and Mount Hood. Leaf peeping in Stowe Vermont where the hills are alive with the sound of whatchamacallit came to retire and one wild 24 hour road trip through the Blue Ridge on the way to D.C.
I used to even startle myself when looking out at the flat sprawling freeways at distant cumulus clouds on the horizon and think I was seeing mountain ranges. And yet their heights electrify and terrify me too which, in the end I suppose, all the worthwhile things do.
I didn't realize I was collecting mountain songs until kind of recently. It all started ages ago with Goldfrapp's album Felt Mountain (released TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO stop it!) and later Les Discrets Song for Mountains.
Here are a few in the collection. I'm feeling kind of basic today so it's just songs with Mountain in the title. No different really than Track Ones, Side Ones.
Funny also that my natal moon is in Capricorn, the little capricious tenacious deeply feeling earth moon represented by the sea-goat but that's a winding tale for another day. [insert cheeky winky smirk]
Foals - Mountain at my Gates
Oh give me some time, show me the foothold from which I can climb
I see a mountain at my gates
I see it more and more each day
And my desire wears a dark dress
Ah, each day, I see you less
Austra - Mountain Baby (ft. Cecile Believe)
If I lose my way, I don't care
I got someone like you with me, my mountain baby
Love of Diagrams - Mountain
Go tell it to the mountain, go tell it to the sea.
Are you in the sunshine or are you in the moonlight?
The Warlocks - Moving Mountains
This album, Heavy Deavy Skull Lover is one of my favorites to make art to.... scummy psych guitars tickle my ears in the best way.
The lynchian blue light of early morning gently wipes the sleep from my eyes and maybe it's the moon in Scorpio or the last vestiges of the eclipse cycle we just barely made it out of or the time of year, but I find myself feeling soft and tender without pain and a desire for yearning once more. As a certified GenX yearner, I know yearning songs. But I've avoided most of them of late because instead of that slinky wistfulness I so adore, I find only acid and twisted barbed cruelty.
I suppose being cool was never a value I really cared about, though at times in my life I certainly masked as though it mattered. To that end, it's time to out myself as a lover of U2. Bono's problematic ego aside, there are some classically intense burner yearners in their repertoire.
Many many years ago in another life, I would drive through the flat plains of broken suburbia to a dingy park surrounding an even dingier pond and listen to The Unforgettable Fire on a loop. To this day, when I hear the opening bars of A Sort of Homecoming, I feel that person rattling inside the mundane cage of existence as she walked round and round that pond yearning for more. More nature, more romance, more intensity... more more more! Is this it? Is there nothing more?
And then Bad. That song belongs to my mother and her early death. And to Germany and loss and this pressing desire to free myself from the surface of living. To taste the limits of existence rather than yet again be bound by the body's cage. I once brought tears to someone's eyes by belting it out with such passion, all that I felt and was in that young vessel. I remember that moment so clearly.
How long? How long must we sing this song?
Nothing changes on New Year's Day.
October's Gloria and The Joshua Tree.
When I think of With Or Without You, a much more naive version of myself takes the reins. She imagines two souls interwoven, intertwining through millennia. Spinning through space and time, a la Brian Eno's Spinning Away. With and without each other, periods of connection and wholeness followed by periods of tangy separation. So intense and poetic, I love that younger version of myself and feel such a gentleness towards her. To shelter her from the cruel world of disassociation and selfishness, if only I could protect her from the whims of broken people. The one who believed in magic and a love that would rescue me from the gasping chasm of existence.
On that note, I'm so excited to see the upcoming Luc Besson directed Dracula A Love Tale. I hope it does something to restore my faith in yearning. In a new way though; because without the beauty of connection and belief in that magic, something truly innocent dies. And from those ashes a resurrection or something new can be born; one who still believes but holds hands with unwavering truth on her side. Eyes wide open darling, not afraid but not easily duped either.
What I'm into lately ... delightfully mad chaotic expressive and free.
Haute & Freddy - Freaks
Pleasure Victim - Passion and Punishment
Not new but new to me and all's I can say is...
DELICIOUSNESS, VILE, SLICK, SLITHERY AND BITTERLY SHARP. <3
Schnallo - Hold It Like Honey
Their LP was finally released on CD a few months ago (maybe a year now?) and I picked it up in England while I was there in January. They recently released a photo shoot created in collaboration with Cinnamene for this single but a full length video version isn't out yet. Sighs... I love it so much and you should hunt it out too. I could screenshot it but that kind of destroys the magic, don't you think?
Up before the sun and the first taste of autumn is touching these parts. After months of forced chilly air, the windows are open and my little kittens' sniffers and ears are working overtime soaking up the birdsong and green scents. Robust black milky tea is my hand's companion along with Widowspeak's 2015 album All Yours.
Today happens to also be a full moon and a lunar eclipse in Pisces. If you follow those sorts of things, the energy is so juicy! I feel so much peace letting the old drift out into the metaphorical sea. This morning finds me feeling more content than I have in a very very long time. Yesterday I impressed my own taste buds with a homemade eggplant and lentil stew made to the sounds of OMD.
So much in the world feels at odds with life but the last few days feel like micro affirmations filled with simple human joys, wholesome sounds in my ears, releasing that which isn't for me and dreaming of all the delights I've yet to experience. It is professed that the universe smiles on those that move in silence, in quiet... steadily moving towards their dreams. That irony hasn't been lost on me over the years but maybe baby just maybe this time we might be on a smoother course of this most contrary choose your own adventure slip 'n slide.
Hopefully, I've not tempted those pesky universe sprites into pushing me off the proverbial table.
Adorable!! My little mess makers have discovered their first squirrel running laps along the porch railing. Watching them watch the little scamp watching the world is just perfect.
It's true, surprisingly, what they say. That one day, you just get over something. As a rule, I despise cliches, find their trite simplicity irritating but here I am, a walking example of them. I don't mean that I'm healed, I don't know what that even means but I am content and well? Unbothered. The great energetic omnipresent buzzing is quiet. With one act, the lever of the primordial electrical complex was flipped and everything went silent, stone death. And since then? An absence of that ever present hum. It's given me time to feel and think. About me. Just me. And what it means to be me. In this vacuum, eons of emotions came boiling to the surface expressed by parts of myself I'd never given the spotlight to before. A new symposium of voices and energies to learn. To each of them, I handed the reins to heal. This is your space, do with it what you will but this time? We won't leave. I thought at times I was losing myself but the opposite was true. In giving each of those little Mes time to be, I joined myself with them. Not the abyss of before, but a profound pool of oneness. In the ever progressing journey of self, the surprise is that we are infinite.
In anger awhile ago, I lamented to my therapist, I just want to get to the place where I don't need anyone else. It was the anger of a little me, angry that they weren't seen and loved by the broken adults around her. Angry at the present me for not seeing her and for putting herself in the arms of those that perpetuated the same myths. In my recovery, I visualize a great many things, so many scenes with each of these versions of myself. Each whole and unique and so very alive. I have always longed to live in a commune, a collective community of beautifully weird personalities and it turns out I already do. And in this time of innerness, I have come to know them all. By sight and even more importantly by feel. I know her and HER and Her. This collective matriarchy. And we disagree and fight and thrash and snarl and cry and love and nurture and push and rest and crawl our way to union.
There is a real grace to this dance. Grace in the religious sense. Beatific and knowing and incredibly patient and kind. The kind of strength it takes to sit with each part of yourself, and just feel. I have always known I was strong, a warrior but I had no idea I possessed the soft side of strength. The strength it takes to keep quiet while another speaks, the strength it takes to hold one's own thoughts and not writhe in resentment but rather in peace. The strength it takes to walk away and truly leave it, not knowing what lies ahead. To walk into the unknown, unarmed but awake. Naked but not weak. Strong but not bombastic. Secure not arrogant. Human, at last.
The other weekend, I saw the Jeff Buckley documentary, It's Never Over. Heavy handed in some ways and lyrically poetic in others. Jeff wrote, "living in the abstract is a cancer and a hell." There's something about him I've always resonated with and felt equally adverse to. I left the viewing contemplative and hopeful, there is something so lovely about living an analog experience and it gave me the reminder that It is in those quiet moments. I wonder what would have become of him, had those waters not swallowed him whole.
This week was absolute carnage but I don't want to be a one track pony who only complains about the same thing just because thought loops are my special party trick. So in other news, my friend teases me about only liking what they call "Duran Duran" music. You know the kind I mean. Heavy on the synths and nostalgic vibe of a world dreaming of romance and a life without Reaganomics. So I told my other friend this who is also the sister of the other friend who is also a bit of a dark horse with spiral tendencies and now we giggle trying to find the most Duran Duran style music we can.
And because this week was carnage in a month of mayhem in a year of spiral, I will not be going to my favorite place to dance to Duran Duran music because I'm no good around people right now but will share some that we've loved recently.
Nation of Language - Wounds of Love
This is so Roxy Music coded I can't stand it in the best way.
Sculpture Club - Just One More
Dripping with romance and nostalgia and existential malaise, I love it.
Up before the sun, that's my new normal. I well remember the many slides into sunrise from the other side. For so long, I've longed to turn The Devil upright into The Lovers. No one said in order to step into the light, I'd have to sever The Darkness. Walk away from the pit that holds all the zings. I can do it with a broken heart has never hit harder these days. Receiving acknowledgment and appreciation for my skills and achievements is so foreign, I don't believe it and definitely don't put my trust in it but something surprising is happening. In choosing me, this me, not the conjoined me.... my public life is undergoing some sort of renaissance. Yesterday, I was flooded with appreciative recognition. My friend said, are you able to hold your own head up right? Actually yes. No more feigned humility or deprecation beyond the joke "I don't know that I'm wise... even a broken clock is right twice a day".
Earned after years and years and years of the upside down, pulling myself upright, soul muscles straining and bleeding... twisting the inverse through tenacity, intuition and some days sheer will.... I am wise. And learning every day that my own instincts and perspectives are not only en pointe but also help those around me to ascend into the light with me. There's joy and power in that even while I carry my own storms and darkness within. So maybe I am still conjoined but this time balance might just be the twinkling light I see sometimes in the distance. Along with a healthy dose of fuck off if you don't understand the magic I weave. I can't have it all but actually? Realizing that I wouldn't want to.
The compass is pointing west more and more and Glitterfox is the soundtrack.
Four posts in a month (plus two drafts)??? What year is it... 2012??
But... but... this song is a must hear. It's wormed itself into my ears and soft crevasses with delicate nostalgic chords and riffs. I think you'll agree.... it's a yearner but also so sly synthy, smirk tickling, heartsy poptastic. I'm such a sucker for songs with peak pining whimsy. That easily belong in the past while careening into the future.
<3 <3 <3
Lathe of Heaven - Aurora
Oh and this one by Mareux has been making the rounds too when I bring my head out of my own doom spells long enough to remember that dancing cures all ills and evils. Listen, I'm trying ohh-kaaay.
Do you remember when you would find a song or a band? Back in the day, are we even saying that these days? Without digressing too much into nostalgia, which apparently is yet another marker of The Aged, back in the day, I would find music through people in real life by word of mouth or by situations.
In this era of isolation and remote work... that's a bit harder. Let's not even mention dating.
There's no point to this post. Truly. For now, I find myself living life because life has claimed me. No deep existential crises today. Not to worry though, Life is still wreaking havoc but the upsets are practical, not existential, which has rarely been this blog's brief.
My actual work life is an insane turmoil at the moment but that's not very romantic. So let's move on (delirium acknowledged). I'm just a person who is healing from the loss of the love of their life and a lot of trauma, loves music, deep thoughts and deep emotions, naughty and spicy quality undercurrents, hates fascism in all its forms, avoids shallow connections, likes cats, is wary of dogs, HSP, INFP mostly (though I like crowds when it means a concert or dancing), loves being at home, loves making a garden, loves cuddles, loves days when we don't shower and we revel in our lazy togetherness.
Yeah... okay.... I could go on but I get it... I'm writing a recipe for a dating app or a dating interview or a birthday candle wish, which I hate. I'm not that person... the one who jumps into a situation ready to trust and happy to have my expectations ruined. I will run them through their paces after everything I've been through and that's not for everyone.
No. Sadly, I'm a traumatized analytical romantic demi/pansexual with PTSD and certain anatomical preferences who actually needs to connect with you first. But, okay. I know myself better now than I ever have before. So much better that I'm typing this out fully aware that I'll publish it rather than keeping it in some journal. This is a beautiful testimony to these years of this blog and my weird experiences with social media! Exposure therapy actually works ... I'm laughing at the irony...
So... in terms of dating... is it weird if I just say The Cure Lovesong and Depeche Mode Strangelove in my bio? I mean... it's just the beginning so where's the limit?
For me there isn't a limit so besides my match, who is my match? You get what I'm saying right? The inferred sarcasm and resignation? The ridiculous pretend game je ne sais quois of even posting this but here we fucking are. I already know who knows me to my core and who can handle me but I guess we exist in a circus of our own fucking making.
That's not wholly true. There are others. Like my dearest friend who speaks to my emotional core, the one who I actually let see my soft underbelly. The one I send gentle and tearful voice notes to. The one I'm most scared to lose. Even in this relationship, there runs an undercurrent of pain. One that resembles a Bjork side eye... soft and undefinable.. but also wholly understood. The strange gripping and releasing as we allow each other to breathe and be. She is so soft and strong and yet I find myself too sharp for her.
This is so true for my relationships.
A new friend said in our daily video chat, "it's a new day" and I responded with "a new day is just another way of saying we exist and so do the horrors." She didn't get it or laugh but the other new friend kind of did and we giggled over the Icelandic history of necropants....
I need someone who gets it and laughs and says more in the way of the perfect song. I miss these dark songs with my entire being. Also, the dagger, the side eye, the cynical acidic velvet tongue, the sarcasm and the gentle.
Depeche Mode - Strangelove
Will you take the pain I will give to you
Again and again and will you return it
...... I also miss dry sarcastic humor laced with deep emotional unspoken understanding. The one I miss connecting with. The heartbreak I keep trying to heal.
But also, the hidden messages and jokes I plant everywhere. C'mon this is funny! Maybe not the consumer mainstream haha kind of funny but the intellectual wry dry witty recognition of the too smart in a too dumb world. Call me crazy, you wouldn't be the first.
Butthole Surfers - Pepper
They were all in love with dying
They were doing it in Texas
They were drinking from a fountain
That was pouring like an avalanche
Coming down the mountain
I don't mind the sun sometimes
The images it shows
I can taste you on my lips
And smell you in my clothes
Cinnamon and sugary
And softly spoken lies
You never know just how you look through other people's eyes
Ah the decadence of self indulgence... but this isn't chocolate boxes and roses... no it's more ragged and scummy than that. Oh well, I live in an estuary brackish with both the old programming and the new.
Only way through is through the storm, right? But there is something just over there, yonder and I can breathe more easily some days. Some days there's so much space that I vacillate between feeling the vast chasm, clawing and clamoring to fill it. Others, just reveling in the delicate elixir that is freedom of movement. Or so I remind myself to do on the days when the old programming wins. But today is not that day. Today is a middle of the sidewalk, sit your ass down and just nod kind of a day feeling the eddies of warm and cold waters - so like the gulf of our youth.
In the estuary, the old - salty and indulgent to the nth and the new? It's clean and equally indulgent but this time? Right side up and Wolf Alice is seeing me through.
A Perfect Circle - 3 Libras
Wolf Alice - The Last Man on Earth
Cate Le Bon - Remembering Me
Wolf Alice - How Can I Make It Ok?
Wolf Alice - The Sofa
I hope I can accept the wild thing in me
Hope no body comes to tame her
And she can be free
I'll be fine, I'll be ok
I feel kind of lucky right now and I'm not ashamed to say
So much has come up this week, so many messages and dreams. A dream with Him, filled with closeness and tornadoes and then someone new in sunshine. Strange synchronicities. Songs met with shivers.
My therapist and I run circles around this. Anger. So much anger.
She tells me He is Me. That all the love I feel for him is really all the love I need to feel for myself. That He doesn't love me the way I love Him.
I try to believe her.
But at my core, still... when I hear Lovesong... it's Him.
It was a secret for so long. This undercurrent beneath my life. I didn't understand that he became an archetype for my own love and devotion. It's so much easier to project that onto Him instead of recognizing my own holes.
Ok, fine, I honor that. But still, I remember the moment I first heard this song at sixteen years old, alone in my grandparents' home, watching the music video for the first time and hearing my future. I knew in my heart, in my being, that my person would understand why this song was so important.
And he did. Letting that go is both surgical and impossible. No contact, fine. Energetically? He is still there. My therapist's ire.
Letting go of an archetype and recognizing it was never about them but rather me searching for me ... it's definitely not as fun or romantic as an undying love for someone who desires you equally. But it's real and it lets me release myself from blame and place responsibility where it originated. A step towards reclaiming Me from Him. Separating the person from the archetype. My therapist reminds me that I am not a cruel person. This is a foreign idea for me. She tells me who I am and I am so perplexed by her idea of me. Because in my own eyes, on a bad day.... it's ... not ... good.
But here's the thing. We have Cancer Ascendants and conjunct Capricorn moons in the same fucking degree. We will always know how the other feels. Always. Even when we lie, even when we pretend. We will always be able to see through to the root. And I get it. I really really fucking do. My twin moon. You chose stability and lightheartedness and I chose freedom and intensity. But the root of us is the same darling.
You love that song by The Magnetic Fields: I Wish I Had an Evil Twin. Maybe you met them? Maybe you are them and I am them and we are we?
Today, I was reminded of how other I can be. How my tastes and references and words and way of moving through life are so seemingly different. Is that true or did I somehow wander again into a foreign land? I don't think I'm that weird but then again, the mentally ill think everyone else is insane. Who's to say who is and isn't...
It's disheartening though to feel always on the outside, on the fringe. I long for someone to speak MY language for a change rather than constantly changing the way I relate to the world in an effort to be understood. There have only been a few in my life that came close, maybe just one really and even that turned out to be an illusion. Even though I've always loved the line from a forgotten niche indie film, "Illusion must be the scent of something real coming close." It's okay, you probably haven't seen it.
Don't mind me, I'm just feeling some kind of way today and whinging into the void is better than any number of old coping mechanisms I used to employ. It's a made up problem anyway, in a world filled with made up problems.
Here are some new releases from this spring that I really really like.
There's a special place in Dante's inferno reserved for the lesbians who thrive on the internet's misfeasance. And in this circle, reserved for just a special few, are the rest of us who discover the woman they've been in some sort of undefined situationship with having ongoing flirtations with another. It is in this circle you discover you are just a pawn in their fucked up broken toying seduction. It really sucks. Even more so when you discover there's a harem of back ups. And you my dear are just a back up of a back up of a back up.
The rawness of internet receipts must be steak tartare in the Devil's mouth. I hate that my prescience gives way to killer sleuth instincts. I'd rather live in my delusional la vie en rose.
It's not the time... what is time? It's the emotional investment. The effort. The connection. The highs brought so low.
And the really funny part? I wouldn't have even minded if she said "hey I think you're really [_____] but I'm interested in this other woman and I'd like to see where it goes". Cool, thank you for the honesty.
It's the suggestive duplicity, manipulation, bread crumbing, selfies, late night videos and flirtations that send me into Volcanic Defcon 1. How she used me, my emotional labor, my words, my intelligence for months all to inspire her poems for this other woman. You fucking used me as a muse, you shallow piece of shit. You lied and you fucked with my feelings. You showed lack of integrity and respect for another human being. I know this place; I've been here before. Where is my writer's credit???
Playing a game where you weren't given the rules and they have the playbook and cheat codes. I despise these games. Never found them fun. There are so many consensual games you can play with someone without causing emotional or psychological harm.
At least these days my guillotine game is strong. Revocation without explanation is a breath of fresh air.
Some of them left no trace at all
Some left her black and blue
She come alive when she dying
She come alive when she on her last legs
She damned if she will
She damned if she won't
Some of them left in one piece
And some she damn near broke
And I am no stranger to the strange and all his ways
What could be stranger than to be stuck outside your cage?
Her.... the One I attached myself to. The One I desired beyond all others. The One who beguiled me with long stares and intensity. The One who awoke in me something I knew existed but had never fully experienced. Her beautiful body. Her beautiful voice. Her moods.
Her.
Her.
Her.
I've never grieved Her. I transferred all of my love and devotion to Him. And did it so without hesitation. Because why wouldn't I? I adored Her. I loved Her. I wanted to marry myself to Her, body mind and soul. What wouldn't I do for Her? Everything. I would give anything to and for Her.
Even if She was a He. Even if She loved another. Even if she married another. I would always, always, always be devoted to Her. That is what I promised in my heart when I proposed. When I tied myself to Her.
And when I couldn't have Her.... what did my body mind and soul mean anymore? Nothing. Nothing mattered anymore... I could satiate my body with whomever. Destroy it even. Because without Her, life became a long night of hedonistic self destructive limbo. Very much Florence and the Machine Cosmic Love. I was in the dark and searching desperately for reunion. I convinced myself for years that if I was "fine" then She / He would realize the mistake and right the wrong. Come back to me, save me even.
I convinced myself for years that if I pursued the males of the world that I would be desirable enough. If I made enough money. If I was cute enough. Crafty enough. Goth enough. Sane enough. Together enough. Well versed in music enough. Intense enough but not too much.
When He severed Her breasts, I fucking cried. I cried for ages. I mourned for years.
When She aligned with another woman mere days after the big fight and lied to me that she loved her, got a tattoo with her name on her body, asked me for opinions on engagement rings, I convinced myself I deserved it. It must be my fault because I was so unlovable. I marked my body in sacrifice in the presence of the woman who told me. When she laid with me and told me what the other one tasted like as pillow talk, I deserved it. Because I wasn't good enough. When I begged for reprieve, even said "You've got to let me get over you" and she didn't listen, I believed it was because she loved me. Got a job at my place of employment and said to me it was so She could be near me but lied to everyone else.... Loved me in the way only a decrepit demon like me deserved. Danced with the new one and mouthed this James song is for you. The James Song. How fucking dare you. How cruel.
I spent years avoiding emotional intimacy. Years pursuing shallow and disgusting connections to abhor my own body. Because if I could lose the love of my life, what salvation remained for me? Let me prostitute myself in the name of lost love. Let me prove to you how much I love you, I will even lie with men again to prove it. Because as He said, He was never a woman always a man. Let me lose my own life even because what does it matter? She / He doesn't love me. Nothing matters.
Not a waste. I have thought that before. I am healing from this.
Rather a reminder of how powerful my love and devotion really are. Body, Mind and Soul. I will give it all but let's embrace discernment this time. Because when I meet HER this time, I will be able to say with my whole heart that I choose you. And I choose you because I've met my own Darkness and seen the Void. I've come out the other side and know myself fully in both Light and Shadow. My body bears the scars but my heart is pure and clear.
He still lives in the world but I don't know Him. I don't want to know Him because the one I wanted has died. And the way I was treated proves that was never actually love. Love doesn't feel like that. Whatever that was, it wasn't love. It was something twisted and unkind. Love feels uplifting and good and brings you to a place of light and wholeness. I felt like shit for years in His eyes.
I never grieved Her but she died a long time ago. When something fully dies, we need to mourn it but we don't resurrect it and we don't linger at the graveside. I've never been much a fan of graves. I think it's better to let things burn into the wind. Let it carry those ashes onward and away.
This one gets no songs because I spent years attaching music to Her / Him and releasing those from my library and mind is liberation.
But actually, it does get a song. A song for me. One that raises my vibration in such a happy lovely way so let's lead with that. I am so happy these days because my life is my own and whatever I choose to do it is because I want to. Because I choose my life every day and the other ones have no influence on it anymore. My beautiful friends, my beautiful choices....ALL MINE. And all the lovely ones that live inside me in various states of healing, the unloved, abused, lonely ones, they have a Home inside me and their voices matter. I will listen and take care of them forever, body mind and soul.
How do I even put into words what is happening? It's an awakening but that sounds so fucking trite.
I spent years, LITERALLY YEARS, trying to fit into a model that would please him and subsequently anyone. Begging for attention and validation. See Me. Love Me.
Fuck that.
AND FUCK HIM.
I will never allow anyone to tell me again who I am and what I'm worth.
There's so so so much more to say but the feeling is fucking freedom.
The music, THE FUCKING MUSIC, it's such a loud cacophony that reverberates in my entire body.
I AM ME AND I AM ALIVE. AND I DON'T CARE WHAT ANYONE THINKS ABOUT ME ANYMORE.
They can all fucking choke. I am here to celebrate joy, connection, belonging and the beauty of being alive.
I know, love and feel myself fully. I am gay. I knew it at four years of age. I will never let anyone tell me who I am ever again.
I audibly gasped when I realized you sorry sack of shit vampire sucked me of my ideas, energy and wonderfulness to make your sad life better. The joy tap has been turned off and I will never do your labor again. Good luck with the wife who never apologizes.
Oh James, you broke me. I thought I knew you well.
Laugh at the wonder of it all. Laugh so loud you break your fall and you hear the gathering sounds. Leave your bones, leave your skin. Leave your past, leave your craft. Leave your suffering heart. Come, dip on in.
It's the artists, the musicians, the visionaries, the weirdos, the deep thinkers and feelers who draw down the moon and bring in the light. This song is bringing me back online after a prolonged downward spiral.
Little indie band of whom I know nothing about from Portland Oregon that I randomly heard on this Friday night when I wasn't actively seeking. Or maybe I was and we found each other. Collided more like because this is the literal mood. Breakdown or breakthrough? I don't know, whatever this is, it's not yet done birthing itself but this song is helping and tonight, my friends, that's all I want.
The irony of the desert's tragedy is that it supposes it needs to be made whole with rain. Yes, the monsoon brings life to the otherwise seemingly desolate landscape. Flowers flourish, lakes pool and the wildlife embraces it all. But in that watery union the desert loses its quiet windy beauty and whispering dune mysteries. The desert experiences oasis for a time but it doesn't need it. It has learned to thrive without the rain. Maybe the desert thrives on romantic desolate arid beauty but has evolved in strange wondrous ways to desire flippant and willful rain.
This is such a twisted albeit simplistic metaphor for our human obsession with contrarian love. Maybe the desert and the rain are better as they are. Maybe they enjoy being their own separate worlds, even "happily" in their own prisons, quietly desperately desiring union. You tell me. I think you're a liar, the saddest most tragic kind. The one that doesn't realize they've lied to themselves until it's beyond midnight.
Embedded: Everything But The Girl - Missing /// Gigi Perez - Glue
The Todd Terry Remix is my beyond favorite and no one can tell me differently.
