life's soundtrack

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?

the violent act of picking a flower.

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,
darling,
how my scrubbed and soaked and silken hands
didn't stand a chance?

wasted.

-you feel
like you're wasting
my time.-

this is playing
on a loop
in my head,
on repeat
in my mind's ear,
over and over.
just this
one
thing
from so many things
that were said.

from so many lives
that i've lived.

and my reply,
softly and sweetly
like a whisper:
yes. you are.
respectively,
it is still my time to waste.

so
stop your damn crying.

its my turn to be delicate.

A conversation I had today

L- "its alright, there will be other, warmer days."
me- "the sunnier the weather, the warmer my disposition."

L- "you are a sunflower"

me- "in a poem, I can be a sunflower, in real life, I'm just a crazy person."
L-"Life is a poem and no one, not even yourself, can say you're crazy."

mud (a poem)

I can't decide if my mood is contingent
on the weather, or if Mother Nature knows how
to mourn with those that mourn.

The ravens hover precariously over me outside,
wobbling like kites in uncertain wind.
Ravens shouldn't wobble,
ask Edgar Allen Poe.

My eyes burn and fidget and then leak
as big fat raindrops fall from the sky.
First... slowly.
Then a drop for every heartbeat.
Then a drop for every thought.

Today I am as 'bright and cheery'
as the mass of dark, bruised clouds above me.

My heart, folding back up into itself, pumps
from its chambers and hoses
mud
as thick as the mud in the driveway
my car will be stuck in tomorrow.

i am cold
and quiet
sludge;
if you give me a hand or a foot,
i will hesitate before i give it back.

What to do when life gives you lemons.

Sometimes life socks you in the face. A heavy, forced packed punch that causes you to involuntarily stagger back. You're taking a step back whether you like it or not.
Your eyes water... who are you kidding? You're crying! It hurts! That stupid bitch, Life. You'd throw a few punches back if you could... you can't. You'd plan your revenge if you could... you can't. You take it and like it. Its your only option.

How do you do that? you might ask... You've counted a slew of chickens that never hatched.
You put your trust in something you found out wasn't real.
You went on the hike of your life and the view at the end was so disappointing you collapsed to the ground right there in a heaping tantrum.
Your invisible demons keep creepin up and creepin in and teasing you and taunting you like an annoying older brother.
Life gave you lemons and you don't even like lemonade.
How you gonna take it and like it?
How are NOT going to take something or drink something or do something to drown it all out?
How will you continue to figuratively tread water until you get thrown your figurative life saver?

Its all in the details baby. Its all in asking the right questions. Its all in seeing the right perspective. Instead of "Why is this happening to me?!" ask "What do I need to learn from this?" Instead of "Where are all my damn chickens?!" think "Look how great these chickens I already have are!"
Life isn't easy. At some point you'd think we'd stop expecting anything out of it. But we don't.
So... Be Here Now.

Look how pretty those flowers are.
There's popcorn popping on the apricot tree.
Your dog has halitosis, but she's still giving you kisses.
Look how great your hair looks today. You look like a movie star.
HOW many pushups can you do?!
Cheez its... enough said.
That guy totally just gave you elevator eyes.
You're good at your job!
The grass is growing.
Eat an Easter egg.
Eat some carbs.
Hug your mom... and your dad... and your brother... and your sister.

Then turn the other cheek to Life and let it punch you again. Because you've got this.
Throw those lemons away and drink a Diet Mountain Dew.
You know what to do.
Stop whining and do it.

Motorcycle Ride

A punch-you-in-the-stomach sunset. Your smell I want to dry up and rollup and smoke up. Maybe. Get high. The wind rips and stings and flutters and all of these things until you have to realize-force yourself to see- that you aren’t actually flying. The ground is a slip of the foot away.
I can feel pieces of me stretching and pulling to break off in a snap like a leaf off of a tree, shuddering off into the sky in flight like all of those birds we saw tethered to the telephone wire… breaking free. Busting out. All of us flying the coop, over the cuckoos nest. None of us birds are caged. Not a single one.
With my hands on your waist .. Relaxed (what a waste) … these hands like wings not talons. Alive. Restless. Flapping desperately but never REALLY making contact. There’s nothing to clutch with, and even if there were, there’s still nothing to hold on to.