Month: November 2015

The physical world confounds me

with its straight edges sharp corners

and expiration dates on milk/ containers of yogurt

I prefer to dwell in the dream world

where pictures are hung

perfectly beautifully

and level

every

damn

time

It was a chickadee

It is always a chickadee

The first to come to the feeder

The smallest but boldest

Brave enough to the be the first

The only one

to see if it is too good to be true

or not

 

Pee

Drink tea

Pee

Repeat

I have been playing Adele’s new song, “Hello,” every day since it was released.  Mostly only once a day.  Sometimes two or three times.  Plus the times I am lucky enough to catch it on the radio.  But it is on repeat in my head, one portion of the lyrics or another, over and over and over.  I think it may be one of the most perfect songs ever recorded.  I love it that much.

What if Adele had never opened her mouth?  What if she had always hated her speaking voice, so she never tried to sing?  What if she had let doubt and insecurity and a feeling of being different hold her back?  Keep her quiet?  Oh my God.

It takes a surprising amount of restraint to not put “Hello” on repeat for real.  For hours.  For days.  For the rest of my life.  I could listen to this one song forever and never miss the others.  It’s out of hand.  Who feels this way about a song?  One song?  It’s not rational.  Doesn’t feel normal.  It’s not the lyrics.  I don’t exactly connect to them right now.  But some part of me knows those sentiments.  Has felt them at one time.  A long time ago.  Thankfully not now.

It’s her voice that draws me in and threatens to crack my chest open.  Soft, mellow, powerful, broken, always beautiful.  She could sing about a landfill and it would be amazing.  Ah-MAY-zing.  I don’t even care that I feel this way.  It feels wild and free and exhilarating to love something this much.  It feels like living.