Thank you God for this fine dayAnd bless all the children all over the world
Thank you for the plants and the animals
Oh bring me sweet dreams tonight
And help me be good tomorrowNoah's ark came to my house one day
With all of his animals and took me away
One summer in college I had this particularly bad boyfriend who introduced me to some of my favorite music (Robert Earl Keen, for one) but who also listened to stuff I couldn't stand. We had a particularly messy breakup, after which I thought to myself "well, at least I don't have to listen to any more Jackson Browne."
This summer I was in a car with my then-boyfriend and he had on a mix CD with a big block of...Jackson Browne. I already knew we weren't on the same wavelength about music and other essential elements in my world, but the sudden appearance of Jackson Browne really kind of summed things up for me. One of the songs, however, I actually like, as the usual JBrowne smugness is for 5 minutes 42 seconds overtaken by a breathtakingly understated expression of baffled grief over romantic loss. I looked up the lyrics later, because what I heard seemed to articulate the disconnect between me and my kindly, in-all-other-ways-awesome then-boyfriend. And I was impressed by this song's short-story quality, with the reference to the existing holes in the wall of a rented house and the way he circles back to the ruby necklace.
What I heard in the car that afternoon was the line "I guess I never knew what she was talking about; I guess I never knew what she was living without." I knew we wouldn't last the summer, even though he was/is so dear to me and I so wish I could stay with him and make him happy and vice versa. But there's something we don't/didn't have, some sort of connection that makes the work and obligation and sacrifice of a romantic relationship seem do-able. And there's no good reason for why I can't keep up with the quite minimal work and obligation and sacrifice for a good man who asked so little of me, other than that I am romantically retarded.* And I don't understand why I'm like that, which is why my distaste for Jackson Browne is overcome by my gratitude to him for articulating in this song so perfectly the bewilderment of loss. Because too often I am as bewildered as anyone.
It was a ruby that she wore
On a chain around her neck
In the shape of a heart
In the shape of a heart
It was a time I won't forget
For the sorrow and regret
And the shape of a heart
And the shape of a heart
I guess I never knew
What she was talking about
I guess I never knew
What she was living withoutPeople speak of love don't know what they're thinking of
Wait around for the one who fits just like a glove
Speak in terms of belief and belonging
Try to fit some name to their longingThere was a hole left in the wall
From some ancient fight
About the size of a fist
Or something thrown that had missed
And there were other holes as well
In the house where our nights fell
Far too many to repair
In the time that we were therePeople speak of love don't know what they're thinking of
Reach out to each other though the push and shove
Speak in terms of a life and the learning
Try to think of a word for the burningYou keep it up
You try so hard
To keep a life from coming apart
And never know
What breaches and faults are concealed
In the shape of a heartIt was the ruby that she wore
On a stand beside the bed
In the hour before dawn
When I knew she was gone
And I held it in my hand
For a little while
And dropped it into the wall
Let it go, heard it fallI... I guess I never knew
What she was talking about
I guess I never knew
What she was living without
People speak of love don't know what they're thinking of
Wait around for the one who fits just like a glove
Speak in terms of a life and the living
Try to find the word for forgivingYou keep it up
You try so hard
To keep a life from coming apart
And never know
The shallows and the unseen reefs
That are there from the start
In the shape of a heart
*Perhaps the fact that I copy down song lyrics and say "OMG, this is JUST LIKE my life" along with a million other 13-year-old girls is some indication of my level of immaturity. Just saying.
and somebody else's favorite song...
*Technically, it's "nothing but blues and Elvis" but I prefer my misheard version.
Things I have done this Tuesday evening:
1. Yoga till 6:30
2. Picked up my bike from the shop (new bottom bracket and brakes! trued rear wheel!)
3. Walked my dog in the shockingly delightful 92 degrees--heavenly!
4. Went to Central Market for lunch makings for the rest of the week (red bell peppers 2 for $1! organic grapefruit only $1 a pound!)
5. Came home and blasted my two favorite fellows, Steely and Dan, while drinking red wine out of a juice glass with a picture of a cow and the word "Moo" on it, and prepping the bell pepper and carrots for salads. Yowled along with my fellas.
6. Went over to the CD rack to replace Royal Scam with Gaucho and briefly considered putting in Steely Dan Gold.
7. While chopping peppers, wondered why on earth I have Steely Dan Gold when I already have all the individual albums. (Up through Gauco, anyway. I'm afraid to listen to current day Steely Dan, terrified of disappointment.)
8. Sat down at computer to email various people about the Girl Scout event I am organizing (September 19! Very soon!), and suddenly realized that I have Steely Dan Gold because it has FM on it, a song otherwise available only on a soundtrack for the 1978 movie FM. Quickly checked: Netflix does not have FM available.
9. Added FM onto my computer as an MP3 to load onto this blog post. Seeing it is taking forever to upload, restarted Gaucho on the stereo.
10. All in all, an excellent evening.
A few years ago I was in love or something like it with a guy whose favorite band was Low. That was one good thing I got from him: Low. This song: 2-Step. I have this song on a CD somewhere at home, not sure where. Somehow I ran across a reference to Low this morning and went over to iTunes to see what was in stock. I listened to the sample of 2-Step and immediately pressed "Buy Song." I had to hear it right away. HAD TO. Could not wait another moment to hear the rest of it, even though I have it on CD somewhere at home. It's bone-crunchingly beautiful and mysterious and starts and ends with a phrase I don't understand but love the sound of:
And the light it burns your skin,
In a language you don't understand.
I think the song may be about prayer or a religious ceremony, but who knows, other than the folks who wrote it. To my knowledge, they're not telling. It goes on:
It's not that hard,
it is not that hard.
That's not all, voices small--
Heed them either way they call.
This seems like prayer, or the act of/talent for listening to the divine. Putting on a pair of headphones and listening to this song is a prayer, partly because I can't do anything else while this song is playing but close my eyes and listen. The review on iTunes says that "The music is so warm it's a literal caress from the speakers--and that's no mean feat in their notoriously chilly genre" (slocore). Right now The Onion has in their Inventory section a list of songs to commit suicide to and a list of songs to bring you back from the brink of suicide. I'm not sure which list this song would go on, but the iTunes reviewer is right: 2-Step is a warm caress from the speakers, the sound of the ineffable offering sad comfort.
I don't know what this song's intentions are or how it is made so beautifully but it is endlessly fascinating and also sacred in that it connects me to the divine, which is both in the words and around them, in the music.
I used to feel much more connected to the divine, used to spend much more time in prayer and meditation. I try to pay attention to the small voices and heed them, either way they call. I try to pay attention when the universe sends something my way for me to consider and respond to. The man who introduced me to Low was absolutely sent by the divine--on some level we were connected, energetically/cosmically/karmically/whatever--for me to respond to in a constructive fashion. And I did, because when he broke my heart my response was to give him a gift, tell him all the good I saw in him, and so exited the situation with much more dignity than I ever thought possible. Made possible by opening my heart to the creator's will and allowing that to dictate my response. I'm a little less emotionally retarded for that experience.
I had thought at the time that when you encounter someone with whom you have some sort of energetic/cosmic/karmic/whatever connection, you got to keep that person, like a missing puzzle piece that fills in part of you. Aren't puzzle pieces meant to stay together, once united? Now I feel that these connections are answers to which we need to determine the question. That's why I might feel the sensation of a puzzle piece snapping into place: it's a just a signal from the divine that I have another question to unearth in response to this answer.
This song is answering a question the listener doesn't get to hear, which is why it starts with the word "and," indicating the answer is already in progress, and doesn't specify what "it" is that is "not that hard." This song is a portrait of all the people to whom I have felt deeply, cosmically connected but did not get to keep.
So my old friend and I have begun our taco tour. We went to Maria's Taco Express, which is No.4 on the List of Taco Places To Eat At. I've been there many times, but my friend has not (she's a northsider and rarely comes south). It was an easy stop close to home, which was essential on this last Saturday, as I had a Girl Scout meeting that afternoon to purchase groceries and clean up for. (We were practicing cooking with pie irons that afternoon, in preparation for demonstrating this technique at the Outdoor Cooking Demonstration later this month. Which reminds me: I need to tell my troop about this. I'm organizing the event and have filled in the whole service unit with details, but haven't given my troop the news yet. Funny how that works.)
So why am I going on about pie irons when this is supposed to be a record of the Taco Express experience? Because the tacos just were not that remarkable. They were tasty enough, as always, and an excellent value but I do not drool in retrospect. Instead, I'm looking forward to toasting more sammiches with our new pie irons. First, we did a classic grilled cheese, using bread, cheese, and turkey. About 3 minutes on each side, with the pie irons resting on the coals, made fantastic sammiches. Then we experimented with croissant dough, cheese, and turkey, which bakes WAY faster than we thought it would. The scouts were, as always, enthusiastic, high-spirited, and surprisingly level-headed in matters of cooking and open flame and other hot things. I am so lucky to have such a bright, mature group.
