Musical Manifestation.

My life is full of funny things, quiet things, nights of friends and beers and revelry without reason, other than the glorious, harmful passion in the green of the city where I sleep. What I want to say is that I have been reading, listening to music, taking long walks, trying to not have crushes. Pretending that I’m good at spending time alone, and then surprising myself when I am. Eating a lot of frozen yogurt.

Manifesting, manifesting, manifesting. Desert homes, travelling, working from anywhere, summers in the city, a little house, fresh vegetables, saving money, springtime in the sunshine, a big dog asleep next to the window, breathing. Safety.

Now, another list. This time, of music that I have been recently enamored with.

– Austra – Feel It Break
– Bill Callahan – Sometimes I Wish I Were an Eagle
– The Black Angels – Phosphorene Dream
– Bon Iver – Bon Iver, Bon Iver
– Buke and Gass – Riposte
– Kathleen Edwards – Asking For Flowers
– PJ Harvey – Let England Shake
– Yellow Ostrich – The Mistress
– Thao & Mirah – Thao & Mirah
– Wild Flag – EP
– The Wheel (Nathaniel Rateliff) – Desire and Dissolving Men
– The Rolling Stones – Sticky Fingers

I’m not sure what this list says about my mental state right now. I like to listen to the Black Angels, or Wild Flag or The Stones when I’m driving home from work and it is sunny. Like to roll the windows down and play it as loud as I can. Pretend I am thinking about things that make my lips curl into a disinterested snarl. I wake up most mornings with either Asking For Flowers, or Michicant (Bon Iver) in my head. This makes for interesting mornings, and faint whispers of strange dreams. Bill Callahan reminds me that some times things can be so serious and also not serious at all. About how, there’s way too much drama and not enough simple chords. If I listen to Little Cups (Thao & Mirah) one more time, screaming falsetto lyrics into the shower head, hot, overwhelming, alone, I might wrinkle my skin permanently. My feet on the pavement, city scraping over the edges of my finger tips, headphones blaring Polly Jean, Buke and Gass (Who are amazing Live), Austra, Yellow Ostrich. Its all I can do to keep from dancing in a way that is entirely too awkward for the world to see. Then of course, of course when I’m feeling sad I turn on The Wheel, that song about limp hearts, remembering and forgetting, pretending I’m not hurt and can’t be. Forgetting how to cry.

Something Pretty.


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