Okay, it's late, I know, but it's sometimes hard for me to go to sleep while I still have thoughts in my head. Here's tonight's:
You know what one of the best, most womderful things about being a human is? Well, for me it's music. Whether it's noodling around trying to make tuneful noises, atonally "singing" along to it in the car, or soaking myself in the memories that the music stirs up, the beauty of handfuls of notes and carefully chosen words resonates with me in a way that is more than just superficial enjoyment.
As humans, one of the things that music makes better, more intense, deeper, is love. We attach memories to the songs and before you know it, you and your best beloved have dozens of songs that you can call your own. Jen and I put almost 90 of them onto CDs for our wedding. In the seven years that followed, we added another 150. Some songs that didn't make it onto the CDs carry more emotional weight than some that made the cut. Some from before and after that decade have their own stories, some never will.
Here are five that, from the first time I heard them, found their way into a playlist -- not in my brain, probably not even in my heart, but somewhere deeper, much more permanent than either of those places. Each of them is capable, at any time, of making me feel sadness, hope, regret, shame, loss, nostalgia, that I am loved, that I am loving, like the best or worst versions of me that I could ever be. And as I listen to these clips to put them into this blog, I find that I'm expressing these things in the most universal way our species has to express all of these things at once: tears. I knew I would, but I guess I need to.
It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart.
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.
I ache to remember all the violent, sweet, perfect words that you said.
Part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time.
If you're lost you can look, and you will find me.
Goodnight, people. It's waaaay past my bedtime. But I feel better to have these thoughts out of my head.
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