Once I've decided that I've been hurt, I fully explore the depth and severity of the wound and immerse myself in the pain and the sadness, experiencing it to its fullest extent, until it engulfs me. I feel alone. I feel sick. I speak little. I eat little. I sleep too much. I drink too much. I take any opportunity to escape it, if only temporarily, before returning to feel it even more intensely. I sit on the wooden bench on the boathouse porch between the two large speakers and look out over the lake with this song playing at full volume. Sure, it'll pass, but later it'll be back again and it'll be even worse.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukYS3ayVnf8
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
"Santa Monica" by Jay Malinowski (Bedouin Soundclash)
I booked the hotels while she made a list of things to pack, back when she told me she loved me, back when I was allowed to call her by her nickname, back when we didn't walk down the street but instead floated along on the high of each other's presence. She was going to overcome her fear of flying and get on a plane for the first time with me. We shouldn't have waited, we should have just up and went right then, instead of planning our trip for a time months later when we would have already broken each others' hearts.
The night before our flight, I was going to stay over at her parents' place. In the morning, I was going to drive us to my parents' and then my dad was going to drive us to the airport. United Airlines flight 8339, departing Montreal at 8:05 AM and arriving in San Francisco at 11:10 AM local time.
We had a reservation for 7 nights at the Casa Loma, just west of downtown San Fran, in the Lower Haight, on Fillmore near Alamo Square and the Painted Ladies. We were going to visit the SFMOMA, the de Young museum (which has a special Picasso exhibit), the Golden Gate bridge, the Embarcadero, and Alcatraz at night. She had even picked out places to eat: Acme Burgerhaus, La Taqueria...
We were going to rent a car from the Budget on Howard street and take our sweet time exploring the California coastline. Sonoma wine country, the giant redwoods, Monterey, Carmel, Santa Barbara, Highway 1.
Eventually, we would end up in LA, where we had a reservation for 4 nights at the Shelter Hotel on South Mariposa Ave, a few subway stops west of Union Station. MOCA, LACMA, Beverly Hills, Hollywood. (There is a hotel in Hollywood whose website said it was haunted by the ghosts of movie stars past, but staying there was a definite no for her.)
Then, out to Santa Monica, where we were to stay 3 nights at the Seaview Hotel, just a block or two from the beach, the pier, and Pacific Park with its iconic ferris wheel. The perfect way to end the perfect vacation.
There are far too many songs about California, all of which will forever stir up in me feelings of deep regret over having had to give all this up, over having had to give her up. Toward the end, when our vacation plans seemed like the only thing holding us together, she made me a California mix CD. I finally got around to playing it today. This song is not on it. It is far too sad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etwOutzsJBM
The night before our flight, I was going to stay over at her parents' place. In the morning, I was going to drive us to my parents' and then my dad was going to drive us to the airport. United Airlines flight 8339, departing Montreal at 8:05 AM and arriving in San Francisco at 11:10 AM local time.
We had a reservation for 7 nights at the Casa Loma, just west of downtown San Fran, in the Lower Haight, on Fillmore near Alamo Square and the Painted Ladies. We were going to visit the SFMOMA, the de Young museum (which has a special Picasso exhibit), the Golden Gate bridge, the Embarcadero, and Alcatraz at night. She had even picked out places to eat: Acme Burgerhaus, La Taqueria...
We were going to rent a car from the Budget on Howard street and take our sweet time exploring the California coastline. Sonoma wine country, the giant redwoods, Monterey, Carmel, Santa Barbara, Highway 1.
Eventually, we would end up in LA, where we had a reservation for 4 nights at the Shelter Hotel on South Mariposa Ave, a few subway stops west of Union Station. MOCA, LACMA, Beverly Hills, Hollywood. (There is a hotel in Hollywood whose website said it was haunted by the ghosts of movie stars past, but staying there was a definite no for her.)
Then, out to Santa Monica, where we were to stay 3 nights at the Seaview Hotel, just a block or two from the beach, the pier, and Pacific Park with its iconic ferris wheel. The perfect way to end the perfect vacation.
There are far too many songs about California, all of which will forever stir up in me feelings of deep regret over having had to give all this up, over having had to give her up. Toward the end, when our vacation plans seemed like the only thing holding us together, she made me a California mix CD. I finally got around to playing it today. This song is not on it. It is far too sad.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etwOutzsJBM
Thursday, June 30, 2011
"Songs of Farewell and Departure" by Hum
I spent five summers there. I did a lot of growing up there. I made lifelong friends there. I met my first girlfriend there. I learned the meaning of duty and responsibility there. I learned to be myself there. I experienced pure joy and deep suffering there. I got in touch with nature there. I discovered music there. I belonged there.
When they decided to sell the place, it was as though they had decided to pull our little piece of paradise right out from under our feet. Sure, they would find another place and give it the same name, but of course it would never be the same.
I recently went back to visit the old site. The ground bulldozed, the old buildings torn down, an enormous house built overlooking the lake. It'll never be the same, either.
The past is gone. There's no turning back. There's nothing to do but look forward and move on.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4i1u57XeXGk
When they decided to sell the place, it was as though they had decided to pull our little piece of paradise right out from under our feet. Sure, they would find another place and give it the same name, but of course it would never be the same.
I recently went back to visit the old site. The ground bulldozed, the old buildings torn down, an enormous house built overlooking the lake. It'll never be the same, either.
The past is gone. There's no turning back. There's nothing to do but look forward and move on.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4i1u57XeXGk
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