Siren Song

I love that feeling when you hear a new piece of music for the first time and it is just so beautiful you get overwhelmed with joy.

I see/feel/hear beauty everywhere. “But it helps me remember – I need to remember. Sometimes, there’s so much beauty in the world – I feel like I can’t take it, like my heart is just going to cave in.” Ricky Fitz, American Beauty

I don’t know if my heart caves in or just grows. With me it’s more like being in the ocean, feeling tiny and overwhelmed, being lifted by something so much more powerful than I can fathom.

Just had one of those moments.

The universe is sending messages again. The kind that raise gooseflesh and make my eyes leak a little (alotta) bit.

Two moments truth be told, 12 hours apart.

Melodious messages.

I have lisztomania, the compulsion to have music playing always.
I find myself uncomfortable in environments without it.
My happy place is a summer drive with the music down and the music cranked. My old jeep used to sound like the Budokan and it was bliss. I remember listening to Radiohead “Let Down” and floating.

That is what music does to me, crashes into me in waves, knocking me over and lifting me up, sometimes making me fight for air. But mostly it makes me feel buoyant, floating, content.

First time in the new boy’s house he walks in the kitchen and hits play on the iPod, an old Blind Melon album I hadn’t heard in ages. I smiled. Haven’t stopped really.

That was a good smirk inducing moment but not the aforementioned notes from above.

We were lying in bed just holding onto each other, the Neighborhood was playing and had been for a while. He said he didn’t want to move but he wanted to hear a particular song. I pulled away and was confronted by a rush of cold air.

The only good thing about moving when you are incredibly comfortable nestled naked with someone is the act of touching and shifting whilst getting comfortable again.

I put my head back against his chest for the briefest of seconds. The music began to play and I had to raise my head so I could hear with both ears.

Postcard from 1952 by Explosions in the Sky.

This one has no words, just slowly building cadence then crashing, pushing, pulling like storm swells.

It was so beautiful I cried. Couldn’t help it.

When it was done I wiped my eyes and said “What was that?” I wanted to add “and what are you and where did you come from.” But I didn’t.

Instead these words slipped out of my mouth.

“The first time we were together I had one crystal clear thought, ‘can I please keep him for a bit’.”
I had to correct myself, I don’t keep people. So I said…

Wait a minute (baby)
(just) Stay with me a while.

In my defense I was sex drunk, high on harmonies and the scotchy scotch scotch warming my belly didn’t help either.

He tilted his head to look at me, smiled, kissed my forehead and said ‘yes’.

We touched and talked for a little bit longer. I had the hardest time drifting off. The rest of the album was still playing I fought sleep to hear it.
I had the loveliest of dreams, carousel horses, leaving my job et al.

It was ringing in my ears the next day. The song he played, the words I said and his answer.

I found myself overthinking things, this isn’t what you say to a new one, a young ‘un. I was beating myself up a bit disregarding his response, my words playing on a loop. I started singing it in my head…

What the actual fuck now, to Google…ah I have heard it before.

Sara by Fleetwood Mac. I heard the rest of the lyrics and re-teared up.

“…when you build your house

Then call me home.”