Part One: The End is Finally Here
I used to love her from a distance, imagining a life we might someday live together. I built it up, brick by brick, until it towered a hundred feet high and blotted out any chance of seeing her as a real person. It grew and thrived. Then I found myself tasting the dream, amazed, disbelieving. And it slipped through my fingers like smoke. I wrote my book, and we tried again. But in my heart I could feel that it was not to be.
It played out more or less like it did the first time around, all those bad dreams and sad entries. I saw it coming, as I had then. Now, as before, I can't help feeling that I orchestrated it in some slightly masochistic way. The only difference being this time I was better prepared. But again I dropped her off, and again I broke into tears as miles were put between us.
I will no longer dream of her. I will still think of her affectionately, and perhaps I won't ever quite get over her. But there is no more crystalline picture of a perfect woman. Only a sad and beautiful girl too fucked up to love me as much as I love her.
I know it's not personal. It's just timing. Isn't everything? It's not good or bad. It just is what it is.
And now, finally, I can put it in the ground and move on.
I don't usually do this, but rather than go on about it, I am going to post lyrics instead. Over the course of this whole messy affair, there has been one record that has been on repeat constantly, providing an uncannily accurate score to it all. As time progressed, different songs narrated the specifics of the tale. It felt, at times, like it was written just for me, as great records tend to.
That album, of course, is Okkervil River's Black Sheep Boy. So here are some lyrics.
If you want to see and be seen, then be seen. Your dress is dark red and your opening eyes are bright green. Make a scene, but don’t lie on the bed, laid out like you’re dead, because honey, you’re murdering me. Be a little sheep learning who’ll shear and who’ll feed. The hands come and they leave. Be hands holding a knife. Be a being on two feet, with his heart trembling, butchering for a king he believes in though he’s never seen. Be the princess in that stone tower, crying for that handsome butcher’s plight (and, as some princess might, she still calls him a knight.) But the best thing for you would be queen, so be queen. You’re all that I need. Though I know that it never can be, I’d be pleased to post your decrees, to fall at your knees, to name all your streets and to sit down and weep when you’re carried back through them and set down to sleep, and to lie by your side for sublime centuries (until we crumble to dust when we’re crushed by a single sunbeam).
If you want the whole experience, you can hear these fragile and beautiful words set to music here:
Okkervil River - A King and a Queen
Part Two: The Quest for Good Christmas Music
In the spirit of Lindsey's recent entry concerning how awful most Christmas music is (no argument here - it's on all the time at work and I am ready to kill) - I decided to follow suit and seek out and make available some not only tolerable, but perhaps even enjoyable and sincere Christmas ditties.
So here are the fruits of my search. Enjoy.
Low - Just Like Christmas
Big Star - Jesus Christ
The Cocteau Twins - Winter Wonderland
The Pogues - Fairytale of New York (This one is on my winter mix, so if you're getting a copy, perhaps it's best to wait till it arrives)
Death Cab for Cutie - Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)
Spinal Tap - Christmas With the Devil
Squirrel Nut Zippers - Winter Weather
Low - Long Way Around the Sea
Saturday, December 17, 2005
Part One: The End is Finally Here