A quick note about this week's entries: I've been attempting to use my mobile blogger as I don't have internet access at home. Unfortunately, every time I try to post after I've written a lengthy entry, my app freezes up and my entries are lost. Luckily I draft them and can re-type them later. However, I think I may have to keep my entries short if I use my mobile app from now on. The next several entries are all of those I hadn't been able to post because of this, so please excuse the numerous posts today. Hopefully I'll be on track after today.
Sometimes I stand in the middle of my apartment and think about the things I would grab if there were a fire, earthquake or if there really were a giant T-Rex coming up the street (an odd and recurring dream I have). I've made my "escape" plan to begin in the living room with the photo of my parents and family, then the vinyls off of the bookshelf and my small record player. I keep it unplugged when not in use, for easy access.
While I'm not the most well-versed person in music out there, I still have a deep connection to music and melodies. I have an extremely hard time gauging moments in my life by time and space. I can't really recall if something happened 5 years ago or 10. I often find myself counting backward from the present moment in order to get a good idea as to how many weeks, months, years ago something happened.
But I can tell you if that's when I bought my first Iggy Pop album.
Or if I was listening to The Cure.
Or if I secretly played that R.E.M song over and over and over again.
My connection to music runs deep, and I find that my day isn't complete until I hear one good song. Just one.
Today I woke up feeling especially blue. This sense of depression and loneliness came over me and I couldn't exactly explain why. I thought I wouldn't be able to find the strength to think of anything to write about, how can I find beauty on a day like today?
I decided to play the Lou Reed album I bought at the flea market while I was getting ready for work. While not the most uplifting crooner, his voice began to warm me up. First my toes, then my knees to my fingertips and into my heart. It was a warmth that didn't make me bounce with happiness, but rather sway like the cool branches of the tree outside my door. It's a strange sensation to explain, but it felt as if I were connected to all the lovelorn sighs, quiet giggles, crumpled love notes written on coffee-stained napkins and fading photos wrapped up in ribbons and twine hidden away in nostalgic shoe boxes; beautiful memories that time can't contain.
Lou Reed - A Perfect Day