To me, a movie's soundtrack is a fundamental, incredibly important part of the movie itself. Some of the most emotive parts of movies are when some perfect song builds to a crescendo in a very perfect part of the story, am I right? Like "The Only Living Boy in New York" in Garden State ( look it up) or Harold and Maude (the entire movie's soundtrack) or in Wicker Park when he's watching her dance and that Mum song is playing. I can think of a hundred other moments but you get the point.
Sometimes, when I'm feeling like Mary Catherine Gallagher, (like a Superstar), like my life is some great passionate, riveting movie, and I'm the lead actress... My character is quirky and awkward, incredibly impulsive, changing and evolving probably too much to keep any movie goers attention for long. But. My movie has a soundtrack, and its probably my favorite part of my movie. Songs get placed in moments or memories or montages of my life and if you ask about any song in my music library, (any of them) I can tell you what part of the story it belongs, and what feelings are associated with it.
Right now, my life's soundtrack includes 2 songs. The first one is a repeat song from another time in my life
Bon Iver- Re: Stacks
The lyrics chew me up and spit me out someone new. This song makes me feel a lot of things. If you listen, you might get a glimpse inside my head. I have sat on the floor next to my speakers and listened to this song with my eyes closed many, many times. Its the song that gets played on repeat after I mess up. Its an anthem to me, of rebirth, after being someone or doing something that isn't really me. "this my excavation, today is Qumran" In my life's movie, moments of this song will play throughout the whole thing.
The 2nd song has a very specific moment in my life's movie.
Wake Owl- Wild Country
Picture me in an old Buick... and its fit to burst with everything I own... and I'm driving away.
What is your life's soundtrack right now?
Thursday, May 23, 2013
your bright, blooming, orange, paper mache flowers
i snapped from their stems
now sitting in a glass by the window
sad and lifeless drooping.
they bled and pussed in my hands
the whole walk home
the whole walk my palms
became more stained and stinking.
I never learned how to make a tourniquet for a flower.
So now can you see,
how my scrubbed and soaked and silken hands
didn't stand a chance?