Dear Marcie,
You gave me music. Of course, in the figurative sense, we made beautiful music together. But you gave me music from people I had not before appreciated.
Who knew I would learn to like some of these things. Sure, we had our common ground, U2,The Who, English Beat, The Cure. So many others... but you gave me the idea that current did not necessarily mean "sucks." I am so very grateful.
You always stretched the edges a bit. You went from ABBA and Beegees to ZZ Top and the Cars, to Tori Amos and Sara Maclauchlan and back to Led Zeppelin, over to Soft Cell, The Violent Femmes and Concrete Blonde, even some Sex Pistols and threw in a little En Vogue and Mya.
I remember flipping between 101.5 and 91X, 102.1 and occasioanlly 94.9 You indulged my need to listen to classical, and you even had your own favorites in that genre. We had a million songs just for us, all of them based on something or some sweet moment we were living together in.
I Have saved your last MP3 set. I hear so much in them and I had to stop listening for a bit. I will get back to them. You communicated so much in that music, in those songs. I will finish and think about each of them, no matter how much it aches, I promise.
I am most grateful to you for introducing me to the songbirds of our age. There is nothing that lulls me to sleep and calm or just relaxation like a songbird's voice. I have been accused by a friend of being "pretty damn Lilith Fair for how aggro your are."
Yeah, it was Dean. Of course you knew that, right?
Well, there was only one voice i truly could not stay angry in the presence of, and it was yours. It still is, actually. I so love when I can recall it and you are so clear in my heart and my ears. When you visit in dreams, it echoes for weeks.
It is and was a small but potent part of you that I still cherish. Thank you for both the music I listen to now, the broadening of my tastes, and the sweetness of your own music in my soul.
I know you did not like her, my sweet, but one person I never won you over on was Natalie Merchant. However, she does ring a note in me, and sometimes as much with her words as her voice.
This last discovery crushed me at first, but I realize now that much of it would never be. I could never disappoint you by not finishing my work here, but the song is beautiful, and I wish I had the years with you it is written around.
Someone did justice to the song in pictures. I wish I had seen us at that age, but that will never be. We deserved to see those days, I know that.
For now, my love, good night.
Me
Someday I will sing this song myself, and change just one word. When I do, I will share it with all of you in a more illustrative video of Marcie and I.
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music. Show all posts
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
So say alright...
This song makes me think of all the times Marcie and I worried about how to pay the bills and buy our loved ones gifts. We never failed to do it. We had lean years but we ate a little more poorly to be sure we provided tokens of our love to our families.
She was the first one to hold my hand through lean times when my work or businesses were not making much. She was also the first woman to understand the need to give even when it hurt. That, I think, I will never find again.
It looks like a few hundred million people will be needing their own Marcies soon. This song should have some resonance to them.
Of course, there is a little more resonance for me in this if you listen closely...
More Time
I promised you the world again
Everything within my hands
All the riches one could dream
They will come from me
I hoped that you could understand
That this is not what I had planned
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
I hoped that you could understand
That this is not what I had planned
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
So say alright
Cause I know we can make it if we try
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
We’re off to new lands
So hold on to my hands
It’s gonna be alright
It’s a whole lot brighter
So stand by the fire
It’s gonna be alright
Yeah, the road gets harder
But it’s not much farther
It’s gonna be alright
You know that it ain’t easy
Please believe me
It’s gonna be alright
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
So say alright
Cause I know we can make it if we try
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
She was the first one to hold my hand through lean times when my work or businesses were not making much. She was also the first woman to understand the need to give even when it hurt. That, I think, I will never find again.
It looks like a few hundred million people will be needing their own Marcies soon. This song should have some resonance to them.
Of course, there is a little more resonance for me in this if you listen closely...
More Time
I promised you the world again
Everything within my hands
All the riches one could dream
They will come from me
I hoped that you could understand
That this is not what I had planned
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
I hoped that you could understand
That this is not what I had planned
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
So say alright
Cause I know we can make it if we try
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
We’re off to new lands
So hold on to my hands
It’s gonna be alright
It’s a whole lot brighter
So stand by the fire
It’s gonna be alright
Yeah, the road gets harder
But it’s not much farther
It’s gonna be alright
You know that it ain’t easy
Please believe me
It’s gonna be alright
Please don’t worry now
It will turn around
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
So say what’s on your mind
Cause I can’t figure out just what’s inside
So say alright
Cause I know we can make it if we try
Cause I need more time
Just a few more months and we’ll be fine
Friday, September 5, 2008
Her MP3 Player-The Smithereens
"Honey, have you ever heard... ?" she asked.
I would nod and smile and she would shake her head, troubled.
"Have you ever heard.. ?"
"No, not that one," I would say. "Who is it by?"
The list of bands whose more obscure songs she liked was extensive, and although I knew the music, she was pulling tracks from earlier works than those my slightly younger years would recall clearly.
As her I-tunes list grew and I converted the songs, then placed them on CDs and finally an open-standards MP3 player, I noticed she asked me to download and place songs more rarely, but when she did, the same ritual was played out.
Only the ones I had not heard or did not have recollection of, usually by bands I knew, were on her list. But I was not to listen to her MP3 player. That changed the day she was in the hospital and I visited. She smiled her lopsided grin and held my hand.
"There's some good music on my MP3 player," she said.
I thought it was a thank you for me, or perhaps a little request, so I asked.
"Do you want me to bring it to you?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No, you listen to it."
I didn't get around to it until before I went to San Francisco, then I listened when I got back again. Every song is a message, and they all hurt right now.
But the one that hurts most at the moment is one that mirrors something I told her when she decided she would likely not make it. From The Smithereens, one of my favorite groups ever, she shared two songs. The first kills me the most.
I don't know if it's her promise or my own she chose this for. But it sounds like my guide right now.
Kiss Your Tears Away
And now it's time to go to bed
My darling rest your weary head
But I have work I should begin
So I will tuck you in
And I will kiss your tears away
I never thought I'd run to you
I thought I'd better things to do
But now I can't wait for the day
When by your side I'll lay
And I will kiss your tears away
I will give you everything
I will make your every dream come true
I will be the one you need
You know I'm the one to see you through
I will give you everything
I will make your every dream come true
I will be the one you need
You know I'm the one to see you through
And now it's time to go to bed
My darling rest your weary head
But I have work I should begin
So I will tuck you in
And I will kiss your tears away
I remember kissing her tears from her face and holding her, especially in those last few weeks, especially after a tough visit or a rough day. I wish I could have, as painful as those days were, had more days to.
Moments of Marcie is not about just being text-heavy and all that. We do multimedia. You can hear this selection by m=our Marcie free and legal by clicking right here.
I have been trying to look ahead and stretch my wings a bit, but as I share more of her song selections, you'll see where I stumble and why.
Night for now,
F.
I would nod and smile and she would shake her head, troubled.
"Have you ever heard.. ?"
"No, not that one," I would say. "Who is it by?"
The list of bands whose more obscure songs she liked was extensive, and although I knew the music, she was pulling tracks from earlier works than those my slightly younger years would recall clearly.
As her I-tunes list grew and I converted the songs, then placed them on CDs and finally an open-standards MP3 player, I noticed she asked me to download and place songs more rarely, but when she did, the same ritual was played out.
Only the ones I had not heard or did not have recollection of, usually by bands I knew, were on her list. But I was not to listen to her MP3 player. That changed the day she was in the hospital and I visited. She smiled her lopsided grin and held my hand.
"There's some good music on my MP3 player," she said.
I thought it was a thank you for me, or perhaps a little request, so I asked.
"Do you want me to bring it to you?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No, you listen to it."
I didn't get around to it until before I went to San Francisco, then I listened when I got back again. Every song is a message, and they all hurt right now.
But the one that hurts most at the moment is one that mirrors something I told her when she decided she would likely not make it. From The Smithereens, one of my favorite groups ever, she shared two songs. The first kills me the most.
I don't know if it's her promise or my own she chose this for. But it sounds like my guide right now.
Kiss Your Tears Away
And now it's time to go to bed
My darling rest your weary head
But I have work I should begin
So I will tuck you in
And I will kiss your tears away
I never thought I'd run to you
I thought I'd better things to do
But now I can't wait for the day
When by your side I'll lay
And I will kiss your tears away
I will give you everything
I will make your every dream come true
I will be the one you need
You know I'm the one to see you through
I will give you everything
I will make your every dream come true
I will be the one you need
You know I'm the one to see you through
And now it's time to go to bed
My darling rest your weary head
But I have work I should begin
So I will tuck you in
And I will kiss your tears away
I remember kissing her tears from her face and holding her, especially in those last few weeks, especially after a tough visit or a rough day. I wish I could have, as painful as those days were, had more days to.
Moments of Marcie is not about just being text-heavy and all that. We do multimedia. You can hear this selection by m=our Marcie free and legal by clicking right here.
I have been trying to look ahead and stretch my wings a bit, but as I share more of her song selections, you'll see where I stumble and why.
Night for now,
F.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Times Apart That Were Just In Time - Visits to Jane (Conclusion)
I was home, worried about why Barbara wasn't picking me up. Was Marcie going to stay at her parents' for a while after our row? Was she still angry at me? Was this the prelude to a breakup?
Barbara's tone had been somewhat impatient and harried. Of course, she also always yelled into her cell phone, a matter of habit I guess, but still...
She hadn't called when she landed safely, as promised. She hadn't called for three days at all, in fact. Sure, I had reveled in the free time without arguments over food, but the conditions bugged me.
I also was missing the more adult aspects of her presence acutely. Weekends were for lazy productiveness in the house, interrupted by occasional and random passions, complete with her feigned annoyance when I called her the scullery maid.
We had argued too much over this stupid thing, to the point of damage, perhaps? Certainly I thought so. I could not believe that we might break up. Over bacon, no less.
The door opened almost an hour and a half after they had called. In the mean time, I had imagined Marcie sitting with her father, explaining how we weren't going to work out, that she needed to move home...
The smell of pizza wafted in, and all was well. She set it down and kissed me deeply, scratching lightly on my back through my shirt. All was better still.
She broke the kiss and whispered, very poutily, "I missed you, Frank. I'm sorry. I love you."
I nodded and leaned in close as I took in her comforting, wonderful smell again and my blood pressure dopped through the floor, "Oh, sweety, I love you too. I am so sorry."
She buried her head in my chest and Barbara announced she would see us next week for dinner. I mouthed a "thank you" to her and she smiled and left.
Seamus cried his little cat confusion out and demanded his time with Marcie. I took her bags and put them in the room, then came out and set the table. we talked over dinner and some Charles Shaw, "Two-buck Chuck" Cabernet Sauvignon.
"I Had a great time," she said, smiling and looking off into space with a happy, half-bit lower lip, waiting.
"So what did you two do?" I asked between bites of pizza.
She regaled me with the tale of her trip and I drank in her joy as she poured it out. I prompted her just enough, listened and smiled inside. Marcie was back to herself again, not isolated with me and grating.
"Being with Jane this weekend really helped me realize how special you are to me," Marcie said. "I always know you are wonderful, but sometimes I forget you're special."
"Yes, I am occasionally retarded," I said. "What did you tell Jane?"
"I can't tell you what I talk to Jane about," she said. "It's not all you, but when I do tell her some things, it isn't what she says but the look on her face that tells me what I want o know."
She bit her lips and turned her head, reaching across the table to take my hand. I took hers and smiled, cutting off her question, whether I had though about what I loved about her, what I appreciated.
"Honey, it is a privilege to be with you," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "Hold on."
I had written her my letter of appreciation and went into my little room to get it.
"I started to make a list," I said. "Then I started to write a poem. So finally I just wrote a bunch of metaphors about music."
I began to read.
"Marcie, you don't just cook for me. You feed me and nourish my body and mind. You warm my heart, cinnamon and fire wash over me in your embrace. You sustain me."
"We are a duo, but we are never the same pair for too long. When we are in harmony, we are twin pianos, or four hands, complex compositions flow from us and silence the deafening demands of the world around us."
"When we learn from each other, we are more like a bicinium, our music played not simply for joy but to make a point. We heed and we improve and our music is sweeter still for it"
"When we accompany one another and toll out a grand and sweet melody, we are violin and viola, or clarinet and flute. And if among that a strident piccolo plays, then perhaps our little friend can be forgiven."
"When we support one another, the staccato thump of percussion drives the rhythm of our song, one for the other simply because it is wanted, insistent in the tune the other plays, whether fully known or not."
"Our life together is the music that defines us. When we pause, the world darkens slowly, silence not quite overtaking us as the music echoes in the chamber of our love. Please let us play on, and let our discordant moments fall away as harmony returns."
"Yours are the stanzas in the song of my life that are the most dulcet."
She had long ago gotten out of her chair and held me, crying into my chest. We had a long evening, abandoning our table to the savage desires of Seamus's belly.
We could never have reconnected without her visit to Jane's home in San Francisco.
I still play the music of our life in my own. When my notes are most true, I sometimes hear her own. Then I pause, and I enjoy the low echo, the mingling of her soul's notes with my own, and try to sort them out.
It comforts me that I cannot.
Barbara's tone had been somewhat impatient and harried. Of course, she also always yelled into her cell phone, a matter of habit I guess, but still...
She hadn't called when she landed safely, as promised. She hadn't called for three days at all, in fact. Sure, I had reveled in the free time without arguments over food, but the conditions bugged me.
I also was missing the more adult aspects of her presence acutely. Weekends were for lazy productiveness in the house, interrupted by occasional and random passions, complete with her feigned annoyance when I called her the scullery maid.
We had argued too much over this stupid thing, to the point of damage, perhaps? Certainly I thought so. I could not believe that we might break up. Over bacon, no less.
The door opened almost an hour and a half after they had called. In the mean time, I had imagined Marcie sitting with her father, explaining how we weren't going to work out, that she needed to move home...
The smell of pizza wafted in, and all was well. She set it down and kissed me deeply, scratching lightly on my back through my shirt. All was better still.
She broke the kiss and whispered, very poutily, "I missed you, Frank. I'm sorry. I love you."
I nodded and leaned in close as I took in her comforting, wonderful smell again and my blood pressure dopped through the floor, "Oh, sweety, I love you too. I am so sorry."
She buried her head in my chest and Barbara announced she would see us next week for dinner. I mouthed a "thank you" to her and she smiled and left.
Seamus cried his little cat confusion out and demanded his time with Marcie. I took her bags and put them in the room, then came out and set the table. we talked over dinner and some Charles Shaw, "Two-buck Chuck" Cabernet Sauvignon.
"I Had a great time," she said, smiling and looking off into space with a happy, half-bit lower lip, waiting.
"So what did you two do?" I asked between bites of pizza.
She regaled me with the tale of her trip and I drank in her joy as she poured it out. I prompted her just enough, listened and smiled inside. Marcie was back to herself again, not isolated with me and grating.
"Being with Jane this weekend really helped me realize how special you are to me," Marcie said. "I always know you are wonderful, but sometimes I forget you're special."
"Yes, I am occasionally retarded," I said. "What did you tell Jane?"
"I can't tell you what I talk to Jane about," she said. "It's not all you, but when I do tell her some things, it isn't what she says but the look on her face that tells me what I want o know."
She bit her lips and turned her head, reaching across the table to take my hand. I took hers and smiled, cutting off her question, whether I had though about what I loved about her, what I appreciated.
"Honey, it is a privilege to be with you," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "Hold on."
I had written her my letter of appreciation and went into my little room to get it.
"I started to make a list," I said. "Then I started to write a poem. So finally I just wrote a bunch of metaphors about music."
I began to read.
"Marcie, you don't just cook for me. You feed me and nourish my body and mind. You warm my heart, cinnamon and fire wash over me in your embrace. You sustain me."
"We are a duo, but we are never the same pair for too long. When we are in harmony, we are twin pianos, or four hands, complex compositions flow from us and silence the deafening demands of the world around us."
"When we learn from each other, we are more like a bicinium, our music played not simply for joy but to make a point. We heed and we improve and our music is sweeter still for it"
"When we accompany one another and toll out a grand and sweet melody, we are violin and viola, or clarinet and flute. And if among that a strident piccolo plays, then perhaps our little friend can be forgiven."
"When we support one another, the staccato thump of percussion drives the rhythm of our song, one for the other simply because it is wanted, insistent in the tune the other plays, whether fully known or not."
"Our life together is the music that defines us. When we pause, the world darkens slowly, silence not quite overtaking us as the music echoes in the chamber of our love. Please let us play on, and let our discordant moments fall away as harmony returns."
"Yours are the stanzas in the song of my life that are the most dulcet."
She had long ago gotten out of her chair and held me, crying into my chest. We had a long evening, abandoning our table to the savage desires of Seamus's belly.
We could never have reconnected without her visit to Jane's home in San Francisco.
I still play the music of our life in my own. When my notes are most true, I sometimes hear her own. Then I pause, and I enjoy the low echo, the mingling of her soul's notes with my own, and try to sort them out.
It comforts me that I cannot.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Little things she might have liked (Part 1)
Marcie and I did not do a lot of the things we had planned to. Some of those things were fairly straightforward, such as heading over to the most authentic Irish bar in San Diego and having a pint over Irish music.
I didit for her. I went to The Ould Sod and had a couple of pints, enjoyed some music and snapped some shots. I also tried to take a movie, but the lighting was such crap that it proved pointless.
However, to help you understand how interesting and nice the music was, I did save a snippet, mostly for sound:
There was at least a tad more success with the flash on my camera and some shots of the musicians. Take a look at the instruments and how I used the mirror in the shots:
It was looking to be a decent night when I left. But I really wasn't in the mood for a good night. I just wanted to go see the Tuesday night players for Marcie, and that I did.
I left very much wondering what she would have said about it all, as she had been to Eire before. When we did pop in, she didn't say much, really. I also wondered what it would have felt like to show up at such a pub in Ireland with my hot Irish-American redhead in tow. I imagine I would have been very proud.
I'll never know either, I guess.
I didit for her. I went to The Ould Sod and had a couple of pints, enjoyed some music and snapped some shots. I also tried to take a movie, but the lighting was such crap that it proved pointless.
However, to help you understand how interesting and nice the music was, I did save a snippet, mostly for sound:
There was at least a tad more success with the flash on my camera and some shots of the musicians. Take a look at the instruments and how I used the mirror in the shots:
It was looking to be a decent night when I left. But I really wasn't in the mood for a good night. I just wanted to go see the Tuesday night players for Marcie, and that I did.
I left very much wondering what she would have said about it all, as she had been to Eire before. When we did pop in, she didn't say much, really. I also wondered what it would have felt like to show up at such a pub in Ireland with my hot Irish-American redhead in tow. I imagine I would have been very proud.
I'll never know either, I guess.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Another song I think of her to
So one of my favorite singers from the 90s was Welshman David Gray, whose Lost Songs 95-98 and White Ladder were constant companions in the early days of the new century. He's made a greatest hits album, which I generally abhor, but this one came with a bonus.
This song, which debuted as a single November 5th, would have made a great song for Marcie and my anniversary date a week later. I was always looking for songs to dance with her to. I guess, for now, this will be one I just think of her to. That is, unless a little dinner and dance date is forthcoming in dreamland.
This song, which debuted as a single November 5th, would have made a great song for Marcie and my anniversary date a week later. I was always looking for songs to dance with her to. I guess, for now, this will be one I just think of her to. That is, unless a little dinner and dance date is forthcoming in dreamland.
The World To Me - David Gray
Started talking and the line went dead
Never heard a single word you said
Babe I said I’d give my right arm,
Every day that I decide on
Baby baby you’re the world to me
I woke up, the room was cold
Looking tired, feeling old
Cursin’ all the changes I’ve to say
The more I cursed into the flood
The less it seemed do me good
Clearer became my mind than I could say
Baby baby you’re the world to me
My head is roaring like a waterfall
Give me everything or not at all
You don’t have to turn the sound up
Babe I want you from the ground up
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
You don’t have to turn the sound up
Babe I want you from the ground up
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Iridescent like a starling
Won’t you be my little darling
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Started talking and the line went dead
Never heard a single word you said
Babe I said I’d give my right arm,
Every day that I decide on
Baby baby you’re the world to me
I woke up, the room was cold
Looking tired, feeling old
Cursin’ all the changes I’ve to say
The more I cursed into the flood
The less it seemed do me good
Clearer became my mind than I could say
Baby baby you’re the world to me
My head is roaring like a waterfall
Give me everything or not at all
You don’t have to turn the sound up
Babe I want you from the ground up
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
You don’t have to turn the sound up
Babe I want you from the ground up
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Iridescent like a starling
Won’t you be my little darling
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
Baby baby you’re the world to me
The first time I heard it, I changed the channel at "went dead." The first few lines brought to mind Marcie's seizure, during which she screamed and dropped the phone. I found her passed out after rushing home. But I am glad I gave it another chance.
The links below point to the single and the album if you want to buy it for your MP3 players/Ipods. I can say that the greatest hits album is a pretty good collection, despite the fact that I generally avoid them.
The links below point to the single and the album if you want to buy it for your MP3 players/Ipods. I can say that the greatest hits album is a pretty good collection, despite the fact that I generally avoid them.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
A Long, Empty Night
It's funny how the things we do to get by sometimes end up bringing us right back around to where we belong, whether we want that or not. Last night, I decided to attend the San Diego Press Club Awards, with the hope that a little camaraderie and noise would be good for me.
It worked for all of 10 minutes. I did talk to a lot of old friends and kept good face, but I had a hard time of it anyways. The first thing was my awards, which you can look up here. I realized, as I put on the little name tag with the place ribbons, that I would be proud of these as I showed them to Marcie, but that was not going to happen in this life.
I did enjoy the food, and I wandered around, reconnecting with old sources and colleagues. I started to leave but ended up speaking to Chula Vista Mayor Cheryl Cox for a bit, which was actually less difficult than sitting in the crowd inside. Thanks for the conversation, Cheryl.
As if to reinforce the idea that the awards had lost one of their most important contexts for me, a song sung in an alternately, artfully soaring and soulfully fading siren's voice played over the radio as I hit Pershing Drive. I should have changed the channel, but, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I pulled over instead and heard it out.
The Story
Brandi Carlile
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
And baby I broke them all for you
Oh because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do and I was made for you
You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what I've been through like you do
And I was made for you...
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
Oh but these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
Oh yeah and its true, that I was made for you
I'll probably buy the album. She sounds like someone Marcie would like hearing, despite her folk roots (which Marcie was very choosy in accepting from people). Call it a recommendation.
F.
It worked for all of 10 minutes. I did talk to a lot of old friends and kept good face, but I had a hard time of it anyways. The first thing was my awards, which you can look up here. I realized, as I put on the little name tag with the place ribbons, that I would be proud of these as I showed them to Marcie, but that was not going to happen in this life.
I did enjoy the food, and I wandered around, reconnecting with old sources and colleagues. I started to leave but ended up speaking to Chula Vista Mayor Cheryl Cox for a bit, which was actually less difficult than sitting in the crowd inside. Thanks for the conversation, Cheryl.
As if to reinforce the idea that the awards had lost one of their most important contexts for me, a song sung in an alternately, artfully soaring and soulfully fading siren's voice played over the radio as I hit Pershing Drive. I should have changed the channel, but, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I pulled over instead and heard it out.
The Story
Brandi Carlile
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
And baby I broke them all for you
Oh because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do and I was made for you
You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what I've been through like you do
And I was made for you...
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
Oh but these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
Oh yeah and its true, that I was made for you
I'll probably buy the album. She sounds like someone Marcie would like hearing, despite her folk roots (which Marcie was very choosy in accepting from people). Call it a recommendation.
F.