Sometimes we just know when we fall upon aural bookends to our lives. Turn up the jams!
It's bright and sunny outside today, not too much unlike that fabled August day that we shared oh so long ago. I ended that night in a sort of fevered sonic embrace with David Bowie's album Hunky Dory, believing that everything would turn out just that way. Hunky dory. Why would I think otherwise after such a stellar, rule bending day? Didn't we have momentum behind us, a sort of confused but weighty purity of heart propelling us forward?
Fast forward four and a half years and we both know that the world is a different place. Instead of waking up to your face on a pillow next to mine on a sunny Sunday morning what I see before me is a smattering of quiet, cool architectural reminders of you, cryptic and inscrutible. On my way down to breakfast and redemption I found an album that appealed to me in the same way that that early Bowie album did on that long ago night. The White Stripes, Get Behind Me, Satan! Might it be the way the singer, high pitched and emotional, bangs out his tales of woe? Could it be the heart wrenching guitar solos that dart in and out of the sonic dialogue? Surely, it must be the tinkering keys of the piano echoing about the sunshine filled corners of my house that makes it so fulfulling?
It is full out daylight now, sort of like the day after our arm and arm walk down the concrete park path in Tacoma. Like that long ago day I see sunlight outside my door, a day colored by cool green lawns, deep blue skies and a sort of balmy grey calmness that typically washes over combatants still on their feet after having survived a fierce firefight in the dead of night.
So now I can say that I have yet another soundtrack to my life, bookend albums that will always spark memories of the joys and travails I shared with you, my True Love, records that will always say to me that I am a warrior, that I am a lover who took the hardest blows that life could deliver and still managed to wake up and face the dawn, happy, scared, deep in thought and filled with a sort of twisted joy in having loved the most difficult to love woman on the face of this planet. I am not the damaged man that you feared leaving behind, the shapeshifter that you chose to live with, instead I am the emotionally upright, morally skewed, financially wrecked and completely ready kick ass on the world man you wish you had, who wears the battle scars you left behind like colorful tattoos on his face.
Jane, here in this space I will always be happy to show the world the high price I was willing to pay for the joy and priviledge of loving you. Now, instead of shining me on why don't you grab a cup of joe, a plate of French toast and turn up the tunes. It's a beautiful day out there, a bit too grand and glorious for the blues, for the plinking of melancholy piano keys! Slap on something that's hard, sweet and righteous, will ya? Life is right outside the door and we need to find the next set of bookends for the next tale in our life that has yet to be lived!
Hard love, baby, no better kind. Your WHMB
It's bright and sunny outside today, not too much unlike that fabled August day that we shared oh so long ago. I ended that night in a sort of fevered sonic embrace with David Bowie's album Hunky Dory, believing that everything would turn out just that way. Hunky dory. Why would I think otherwise after such a stellar, rule bending day? Didn't we have momentum behind us, a sort of confused but weighty purity of heart propelling us forward?
Fast forward four and a half years and we both know that the world is a different place. Instead of waking up to your face on a pillow next to mine on a sunny Sunday morning what I see before me is a smattering of quiet, cool architectural reminders of you, cryptic and inscrutible. On my way down to breakfast and redemption I found an album that appealed to me in the same way that that early Bowie album did on that long ago night. The White Stripes, Get Behind Me, Satan! Might it be the way the singer, high pitched and emotional, bangs out his tales of woe? Could it be the heart wrenching guitar solos that dart in and out of the sonic dialogue? Surely, it must be the tinkering keys of the piano echoing about the sunshine filled corners of my house that makes it so fulfulling?
It is full out daylight now, sort of like the day after our arm and arm walk down the concrete park path in Tacoma. Like that long ago day I see sunlight outside my door, a day colored by cool green lawns, deep blue skies and a sort of balmy grey calmness that typically washes over combatants still on their feet after having survived a fierce firefight in the dead of night.
So now I can say that I have yet another soundtrack to my life, bookend albums that will always spark memories of the joys and travails I shared with you, my True Love, records that will always say to me that I am a warrior, that I am a lover who took the hardest blows that life could deliver and still managed to wake up and face the dawn, happy, scared, deep in thought and filled with a sort of twisted joy in having loved the most difficult to love woman on the face of this planet. I am not the damaged man that you feared leaving behind, the shapeshifter that you chose to live with, instead I am the emotionally upright, morally skewed, financially wrecked and completely ready kick ass on the world man you wish you had, who wears the battle scars you left behind like colorful tattoos on his face.
Jane, here in this space I will always be happy to show the world the high price I was willing to pay for the joy and priviledge of loving you. Now, instead of shining me on why don't you grab a cup of joe, a plate of French toast and turn up the tunes. It's a beautiful day out there, a bit too grand and glorious for the blues, for the plinking of melancholy piano keys! Slap on something that's hard, sweet and righteous, will ya? Life is right outside the door and we need to find the next set of bookends for the next tale in our life that has yet to be lived!
Hard love, baby, no better kind. Your WHMB
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