I wanted to lead with this.Mom came to visit in mid-September and brought me a goodie bag of deliciousness. Yes- as a matter of fact I do occasionally exhibit the spectacularly advanced palate of a 5 year old. I love these. Pure sugar, in fun little Happy Fall! shapes. (An aside? When Brachs added the pumpkins, and then later the little flying witches, I very nearly died and went to Happy Cavity! Heaven). But there is a part of me (probably the same juvenile one with the obscene sweet tooth) that cannot bring myself to even look longingly at them before October.
Remember, mom gave them to me in September- helloooooo loophole.
Apparently my obsessive side, at least musically, has decided to revisit my college years. The early 2000s are making an epic comeback on my iPod. Even though I own all of their work and like it all well enough, these two albums played a huge role in my undergraduate career.
I used to nap (back when I actually could) to Rush of Blood. It became Pavlovian, and still sort of is. I cannot listen to it if I want to be at all cogent, aware, engaged (read awake). I can listen to it on long plane trips- it will be one of the 'Soundtrack to Flights to Norway' albums. Not to mention the fact that Rush of Blood to the Head (the song) functions as one of those weird, dark definitions of love for me. If you are going to start a war for me, game on.
X&Y is a different story altogether. I was a senior in college- or maybe getting ready to enter my senior year- when the album was released. Three songs in particular endlessly stand out: Swallowed in the Sea (oh what good is it to live with nothing left to give?…. are the streets you're walking on/a thousand houses long/well that's where I belong/and you belong with me), Till Kingdom Come (for you I've waited all these years… just say you'll come/and set me free/just say you'll wait- you'll wait for me), and Fix You.
Fix you in particular… one night I sat and cried my eyes out to that song. I put it on repeat and let it fly. A friend of mine once told me that there were days when all she wanted to was fix me. I told her I was better broken. You can see how this song might be poignant. You can maybe see how, on a dark night, when all I wanted was a magic carpet ride home and a hug, this song might make let me cry and release all of this pent-up blueness.
The Blacklist. Judge me- I don't care. James Spader has never been finer than as bald, post-middle aged badass Red Reddington. And he delivers lines which could define one-liners. I just rewatched the first season in an epic Netflix binge (Bless You, The Bob, for giving me that password). The new season is on and rolling. Yum.
My friend Liz. Yes, I putting my friend on my obsession list this month- no you don't get a photo or a link. The thing about Liz is that she has wisdom beyond wisdom- she has intuition and strength. And every single time I don't expect it, she blows me out of the water with it. Her quote from today? "It's a grand mystery, the whole goddamned thing."
The wind, in New England, in the fall. If there is an embodiment of the fall for me, it's not the leaves, which are admittedly beautiful. It is the wind. The howling, tearing, wrenching wind. The uncontrolled, untamed, wild wild wind. It is cold and brutal and unforgiving. It speaks when it sails through the mountains, trees and barely opened windows. It fractures my soul into a thousand pieces that then go sailing with it. I want to be this wind.
That's all for now.
(In two weeks this wind will have frozen me to near-death and I will be singing a different tune… But until then, dear ones..)
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