Joy is wanting something chocolate-like, vocally lamenting (to myself, really, because thereâ€™s no one else other than the cat here) that thereâ€™s nothing remotely resembling that in the house, and them stumbling across half a block of forgotten Ukrainian chocolate in the back of the fridge. I really ought to clean it out.
I think itâ€™s human nature to assume that eventually youâ€™re going to hit a wall. What I mean by that is that nothing can be wonderful forever, right? Not all around, overall wonderful. You can go through periods with anything where itâ€™s all puppies and ponies and rainbows, but thereâ€™s always part of you on the inside waiting for the dark clouds to descend.
But what if they donâ€™t? What if something just remains persistently wonderful. And not only that, but seemingly gets better, in the words of Dan Boeckner, all the time. It seems, in my case at least, that at a certain point you kinda loose the angst about hitting that wall. You relax about it a little, because maybe things CAN be this easy. Maybe things can remain truly good. Which is not to say it will always be puppies and ponies, but thereâ€™s a real chance that it will remain all around, overall wonderful. In the grand scheme of things.
Itâ€™s honestly the most lovely feeling. And right now itâ€™s kinda bursting out from the inside of me.
Today, from Recycled Records in Glebe, I picked up a copy of Like I Said â€“ one of the very early DiFranco albums. Iâ€™m not going to go into what this womanâ€™s music means to me, because Iâ€™ve done that post again and again on this here blog. I donâ€™t really listen to her music a great deal any more though. Itâ€™s hard to find time for well-worn favourites when you have new music from Beirut or Two Gallants or youâ€™ve just fallen in love with Okkervil River and you really must obsessively listen to every single song you can, repeatedly. Today, though, Like I Said was there and was only 16 bucks, and well, itâ€™s a hole in my fairly substantial DiFranco collection so I filled it.
Driving home this afternoon listening to this album was like slipping on an old pair of socks. Her music to me is strength â€“ at least, I found strength inside of myself through her music at a time I was desperate for it. And while I donâ€™t find it as musically jolting as I once did, I can still appreciate her amazingly bold and inspiring lyrics. You donâ€™t need to look further than the song Both Hands really, which is the first song off her very first album, and appears plus strings on Like I Said â€“
I am watching your chest rise and fall
Like the tides of my life and the rest of it all
And your bones have been my bed frame
And your flesh has been my pillow
I’ve been waiting for sleep
To offer up the deed with both hands
Sigh. I mean, how can you listen to a line like â€˜I am writing graffiti on your body, I am drawing the story of how hard we triedâ€™ without audibly exhaling?
Anyway, Iâ€™m a little exhausted but a lot happy tonight. Total immersion in something other than work was exactly what I needed to shed the shit of the week. This week will be a little complicated, but a day off on Wednesday hopefully means it will go super fast.