To My Recollection- This is the First. Curse. Word.

So lately I've been plotting how to sneak my buddy overseas, into a suitcase, and across borders.  You know, like you do.

I'm thinking about it presently because I'm sitting in the airport through which I'll likely have to change planes- i.e. the airport in which he'll be manhandled and tossed about whilst hiding in a checked bag.  See what I mean?  Like you do.  (Also, this plan is way less nefarious than it actually reads... sort of).  And I'm listening to the artist that unknowingly put the whole plan in action.

Bon Iver.

And here's the thing- he's good enough to break some rules.  He's good enough to break some rules for.

If you've never listened to his jams... I don't actually know what to suggest.  Except to pick one of his albums, stick with it, and enjoy.  And then move to the next and the next.  And then listen to them all again, in different succession, until you get it.  He might not be your cup of tea- but he's something exceptional.  He's a repeat offender on this blog for a reason- his music is conceptual and frequently difficult- emotionally and lyrically.  He's challenging and never pulls a punch twice.  For Emma is vastly different from Bon Iver which is vastly different from his most recent, 22, A Million.  Believe me when I say, he's challenging... But so fucking worth it.

For example: I've talked about some things I've been through- once or twice.  And I've written about what has happened to me because of those things- that thing.   What I let happen to me.  And I've railed about almost everything I can.  I've tried to heal myself.  And there have been days when I could, days when I couldn't.

Enter Bon Iver, Bon Iver.  I heard it the first time years ago- when the album dropped, I feasted on it.  And it dropped right around the time I fell... apart.  There were days when I couldn't heal myself- most of them- and then there were days when I sat down and quieted my brain for a little under an hour, and listened.  And when I listened, there were still days I couldn't rally, but there were moments when I could, because I could break through the fog of my non-existence and seize the rawness of his music.  Front to back, it's stellar- it's strong material.  And then... Holocene.  And that was my rallying cry.  The almost holy track simultaneously broke/breaks my heart and healed/heals my head.  It mended/mends wounds and always reminds me of how blindingly brightly brilliance can shine.  I listen to it like a zealot.  I feast on it like a starving man at a banquet.

It is my drug.

So full round, full circle.  I am sitting in Schipol Airport in Amsterdam.  I'm listening to 22, A Million, but also to 'Holocene'.  I'm considering the cool fall that will shortly be winter in Scandinavia and how every Autumn I've known since Bon Iver has been defined by Bon Iver.

And I'm trying to sort out how to sneak my buddy overseas, into a suitcase, and across borders.  Oh- so that he can come with me to Paris, where I have tickets to see Bon Iver.

And now it's time for the next plane.