i'm finally back on my feet. almost a year later. and this is something i've been working on to exorcise the last of the demons...just a little something...
____________________
She was drunk (again) on vodka and Dr. Pepper (because it was handy). She was alternating between throwing whatever came into her hands around the 420 square feet of apartment (a palace of her own, every princess’ dream) and dissolving hysterically into tears on the couch. The Sex and the City movie watched over it all. It had been watching her fall apart for the past week, since “it” had happened, and since she had shoved the DVD into the player and left in on repeat as she flailed around the “junior one bedroom” apartment. The dress she had been wearing when it happened remained a distressed damsel in the corner of the closet, and the groceries she had shopped for before the chasm opened cried silently in the fridge, forgotten and with only each other to mourn.
In between bouts of weeping and throwing clothes, books, toiletries (all his, and all crying in protest that they had done nothing to deserve such shoddy treatment) in the general direction of a shopping bag, the team of cigarettes that had not left her side or her lips stood at attention and offered their dark and whispering comfort. She thought briefly that she might want to keep her hysterics to a minimum, but doubted her neighbors would notice. Los Angeles is great like that --- the person perched next to you is as insignificant as the bench your ass rests on, when compared to your own internal demons.
When the clothes had all been tossed, and the sobbing had wracked her lungs, she found her way to the couch, where she finally passed into the kind of sleep alcoholics and drug addicts are so familiar with --- troubled, fitful, and haunted by half-real dreams that felt like déjà-vu --- and the quiet that descended upon that small room was interrupted only by the muted hum of that old TV, that glaring sentinel, keeping watch alongside the sweating and half-empty glass of vodka.
_____________________
He was at the bar, with the guys. It was a familiar scene, for it was the place they often retreated to. He pushed a beer bottle around, gently peeled the label from the neck, laughed at the jokes, observed the talent as it walked into the room. Everyone knew him, he was safe there. The thoughts came unbidden, and he felt the guilt, and the occasional doubt, but it was easy enough to push them aside, telling himself “it’s for the best.”
That’s another thing Los Angeles is great for --- the opportunity to relieve yourself of responsibility…Los Angeles is a city of Peter Pans, male and female, who never have to grow up. Why would they want to? The city is a buffet of sex, booze, bodies, sweat, and youth. If you look good enough and have enough money, that same buffet is “all you can eat.” It’s not a new thought, but it becomes more deeply ingrained with every new generation, and with every new arrival to the City of Angels, looking to make dreams come true.
________________
She was in Vegas when she had the thought that she was ready. Her body, the traitor, had told her she was. For a month, which was certainly a long time in her world to be without the touch of another human, her body had been begging for it, at first quietly, but now raging with the intensity of lust tinged with loneliness. It was this potent concoction that guided her to put on the short black dress, the black heels, the red lipstick. It was that bad influence that, like the older girls at school that give you your first cigarette, poured the margaritas down her throat. It was this heady combination that swirled around her on the dance floor and attracted the young man to her. It doesn’t matter what he looks like, he is there, and he is cute enough to awaken the lust and allow it to chase the reason from the party. Those margaritas took up the charge and laughed at common sense’s back as it high-tailed it out of that dance club, to take up residence deep in the covers of the luxurious bed of the hotel room, waiting for her to come back to him.
And, of course, she did come back to him. Mid-coitus, common sense joined forces with the loneliness and they made their move, wrapping themselves around the base of her throat and creeping their way up to her eyes, where they pushed the tears out. They claimed their victory as she rushed the boy from the room and folded into herself on the floor of the shower.
So now we know what Las Vegas is great for --- blissful forgetfulness and crushing reality.
_________________
It didn’t really matter who he went home with, or even if he went home with anyone. Even if the night ended sans female company, he was never alone. The voices of Failure and Disappointment, Doubt, Insecurity, Ineptitude, Expectation, and Fear were always in his presence. Sometimes they were separate voices that whispered one by one into his ear, draping themselves around his shoulders like a friend who has had too many sake bombs and feels the need to confess. Occasionally they were seductive, and united, and ran their fingers through his hair, down his cheek, across his throat, and lingered just long enough on his chest to make him shudder and believe that they loved him.
They had left him, for a time, when she had let him love her, when he had let her love him. But that was the key, that word, “love.” Love reached her beautiful and deadly hand into the equation and strangled the ease from their lives, brought along her friend Expectations to the party, uninvited. Love never comes stag, even to an invite-only event. Once she shows up, it is only a matter of time before even the most dignified of fetes spirals into a shit show of epic proportions.
When Love popped into his party this time, she brought Fear and Failure. The trifecta. As they hunkered down and helped themselves to someone else’s hummus dip and Corona Lights, they reached their talons into his chest and pulled out every last ounce of that wispy waif, Faith, discarding her behind the bed, and then went to work on his head. Goodbye, Trust! Adios, Peace! Nice seein’ ya, Comfort! Love, Fear, and Failure put on their best clothes and danced in a circle in his head.
It was only a matter of time at that point.
No one comes unencumbered. No one travels with just a carry-on.
Showing posts with label heartache. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heartache. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Thursday, December 18, 2008
on keys and the holidays...
there is a key sitting on my front desk.
this key is not on a key ring anymore. it doesn't clink and slap against other keys, those which were used far more often in the past 3 months than this single, lone key.
it is just a key.
but this key was more for me. it was a symbol. it signified more than a key probably should. a key is just hard metal, bent and pressed and shaped to fit the lock on my door, with a band of teal plastic to distinguish from the other keys it used to hang out with. and now, it is alone, sitting on my front desk and waiting for a purpose again, waiting for meaning.
my initial thought was to immediately pass it off to a girlfriend, someone who lives close and could check in on my apartment while i travel, someone who should have a key "just in case." someone who won't use it to surprise me when i come home from business trips. someone who won't use it to enter after a day at work, holding flowers, or some other surprise they've brought to dinner.
but i can't. it meant so much for me to give him that key. it was access. to me and my life. which was something that i resisted giving to anyone for so long.
that key can't NOT have meaning. it would be a waste.
so i'll leave it on my front desk for now...until i'm ready to let him go.
there are very few things as heartbreaking as watching someone you love walk away from you. walk away from the life you had together, carrying the remnants of that life in his hands.
but that's what i did. i watched him walk away with all that was left of his physical presence in my apartment. he is officially gone, gone, gone. and he left the key behind.
and now it is christmas. it is christmas, and i have a key and memories of the holidays past, when love was fresh on our tongues, families were met, presents exchanged, and a christmas dinner was prepared by a jewish girl from los angeles for a family in utah.
it is the most gut-wrenchingly painful holiday season of my life, with these memories of what was, and thoughts of what i believe should be.
but i am launching myself forward as hard as i can.
i have been filling my time with friends. they are my holiday gift from the universe, these friends of my very own, and we share stories, drink coffee, drink liquor, laugh at each other as we dress up in silly outfits for theme parties, put on our favorite outfits and make fools of ourselves at karaoke, show up in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday to drink vodka and cry together, watch ridiculous movies...and generally love each other.
maybe he won't come back.
and maybe...maybe it will be ok.
Friday, October 24, 2008
may i cut in?
well, well, well...here we are again.
depression, my old friend. the constant and steady unwanted compadre that follows me throughout happiness and revels in my despair.
why are you such a bitch?
everytime i get just a bit out of your reach, you catch on to my coattails and manage to pull me back safely into your arms. you howl in pain when i find happiness, and seem fulfilled and glowing when i end up weeping in your arms.
your black velvet skin (i hate velvet) is wet with what seems like an endless supply of tears...every time i run out, you rush to refill the reservoir, like my sad sad soul is a brita filter that you use to filter out the good thoughts like the lead in my LA public water.
and, of course, you seem to become a more complex mistress everytime we are re-introduced. what's this now? social anxiety? bitterness? isolation? well, pile it on, lady, we're having a pity party, and no one is invited. you're a mean mean bouncer at the club of my heartache.
and i am putty in your hands
you tell me to push away the things and people who could help me.
and i do.
you tell me to sit alone and avoid human contact.
and i do.
you tell me to be angry...but not too angry because then no one will love me...
and i do.
you tell me to believe you when you say i will never be ok again.
and i do.
i believe all of it. the loneliness, the isolation, the anger, the sadness - oh, the deep, deep sadness - all of it adding up to another dance with the lady in black.
and this time, i don't feel like fighting it.
depression, my old friend. the constant and steady unwanted compadre that follows me throughout happiness and revels in my despair.
why are you such a bitch?
everytime i get just a bit out of your reach, you catch on to my coattails and manage to pull me back safely into your arms. you howl in pain when i find happiness, and seem fulfilled and glowing when i end up weeping in your arms.
your black velvet skin (i hate velvet) is wet with what seems like an endless supply of tears...every time i run out, you rush to refill the reservoir, like my sad sad soul is a brita filter that you use to filter out the good thoughts like the lead in my LA public water.
and, of course, you seem to become a more complex mistress everytime we are re-introduced. what's this now? social anxiety? bitterness? isolation? well, pile it on, lady, we're having a pity party, and no one is invited. you're a mean mean bouncer at the club of my heartache.
and i am putty in your hands
you tell me to push away the things and people who could help me.
and i do.
you tell me to sit alone and avoid human contact.
and i do.
you tell me to be angry...but not too angry because then no one will love me...
and i do.
you tell me to believe you when you say i will never be ok again.
and i do.
i believe all of it. the loneliness, the isolation, the anger, the sadness - oh, the deep, deep sadness - all of it adding up to another dance with the lady in black.
and this time, i don't feel like fighting it.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
pulling me up from the ground...
what i opened my email account to find from my BFF:
are you still there?
i'm guessing you went home early.
i'm glad.
i hope you go to yoga
and then go home and lie on the floor
if i was there, i would go to yoga with you
and then go home and watch "waiting for guffman" with you
and i would rub your feet
and we would paint each other's nails
and then i would stay at your house
and eventually it would start to smell like me (stinky)
and not so much like him
i will wait with you, best friend.
i will always wait with you.
i will never leave you.
i love you.
even in the deepest darkness that is consuming me right now, her light shines so freaking bright.
i love you, too best friend.
an open letter to my heart...
dear beloved...
it has been 3 days since we talked. in that conversation, you and i determined that it would be best to not speak or see each other for a while, as it is clearly too painful for me, and thus for you.
we also discussed why i am so insistent on moving forward so fast to "friendship" or "healing".
it is because i feel like i am dying.
it feels like i am waiting to die. because how can there ever be joy again in my heart if i do not have my best friend?
you were my home. now i live on the street, constantly cold, shivering, and afraid.
i cannot work. sleep only tricks me by allowing me to dream of you, and so i do not want it for a companion. even food, which i have so enjoyed for all of my life, has lost it's taste, and when i remember to consume it, it is only because it is a matter of survival. which feels pointless.
for me, the joy is gone.
and perhaps, even if you did come back, the joy would not return. at least, not as it was. at first, i know there would be very little joy. there would be hurt feelings, and guarded hearts, and more tears. and there would be talking. (unlike now) but, maybe, just maybe (and this is the maybe that keeps me from falling so low that i cannot rise in the morning) it would be a different and more potent joy that would be an entirely new experience.
but it is more likely that the joy will not return in any form that bears a resemblance to you. you have gone. and it seems unlikely that your mind will be altered from your current path.
and in the loss of joy, down at the bottom of a barrell where i feel safe - confined and alone - i have a found a spark of anger.
i grew a heart FOR you. i filled that heart with love FOR you. and you took that heart, and cherished it for a time, and exchanged that heart to me with yours. and we made that love feel so powerful and pure that it felt like it actually might be something good that could last forever. but then you took it away and remain resolute that it was not to be forever.
and now i am without that love that fed me. and without the counsel of the most trusted friend i have ever known. and i do not know how to survive being without you...without you. and you threw away the greatest thing that has ever been for either of us (which you have admitted).
and yes, i am angry. and yes, i am sad. and yes, i exist still. and yes, i am "surviving". for what else is there to do?
and now we wait. we have agreed not to speak until you are ready.
in the meantime, i will pick the pieces of you out of the heart, one at a time, until there is nothing but a thick scar, and never again will i allow that part to grow.
always,
me
it has been 3 days since we talked. in that conversation, you and i determined that it would be best to not speak or see each other for a while, as it is clearly too painful for me, and thus for you.
we also discussed why i am so insistent on moving forward so fast to "friendship" or "healing".
it is because i feel like i am dying.
it feels like i am waiting to die. because how can there ever be joy again in my heart if i do not have my best friend?
you were my home. now i live on the street, constantly cold, shivering, and afraid.
i cannot work. sleep only tricks me by allowing me to dream of you, and so i do not want it for a companion. even food, which i have so enjoyed for all of my life, has lost it's taste, and when i remember to consume it, it is only because it is a matter of survival. which feels pointless.
for me, the joy is gone.
and perhaps, even if you did come back, the joy would not return. at least, not as it was. at first, i know there would be very little joy. there would be hurt feelings, and guarded hearts, and more tears. and there would be talking. (unlike now) but, maybe, just maybe (and this is the maybe that keeps me from falling so low that i cannot rise in the morning) it would be a different and more potent joy that would be an entirely new experience.
but it is more likely that the joy will not return in any form that bears a resemblance to you. you have gone. and it seems unlikely that your mind will be altered from your current path.
and in the loss of joy, down at the bottom of a barrell where i feel safe - confined and alone - i have a found a spark of anger.
i grew a heart FOR you. i filled that heart with love FOR you. and you took that heart, and cherished it for a time, and exchanged that heart to me with yours. and we made that love feel so powerful and pure that it felt like it actually might be something good that could last forever. but then you took it away and remain resolute that it was not to be forever.
and now i am without that love that fed me. and without the counsel of the most trusted friend i have ever known. and i do not know how to survive being without you...without you. and you threw away the greatest thing that has ever been for either of us (which you have admitted).
and yes, i am angry. and yes, i am sad. and yes, i exist still. and yes, i am "surviving". for what else is there to do?
and now we wait. we have agreed not to speak until you are ready.
in the meantime, i will pick the pieces of you out of the heart, one at a time, until there is nothing but a thick scar, and never again will i allow that part to grow.
always,
me
Thursday, October 2, 2008
allowance...
i'll start by getting up each day and taking a shower. i'll put on my clothes and makeup and go to work. or to get my hair done. or to have coffee with a friend.
i'll put my shoes on. i'll keep breathing. i will set small goals everyday.
i will begin to mark the passage of time not by how long it's been since i've seen him (5 days). or how long it's been since i could call myself his girlfriend (12 days).
i will reconnect with friends and community.
i cannot promise that i will not cry every night. i cannot promise that i will not wish every day for him to come back. i cannot know when i will be ready to give him his stuff back, to really know that he is gone.
i can only try. and i can only take it one day at a time.
the pain might lessen. but for now, i will allow myself the time it takes to feel the pain.
in the past, i have always pushed past the pain, put my shoulders back, my chin up and said "what's next?" and what's next has been a new job, or more jobs, or a new town. but i cannot push past this. this is entirely new in and of itself. i cannot ignore that i am mourning, and i cannot be embarassed that i hurt so much that sometimes i think my legs will give out.
i cannot ask the "why" of him. why doesn't he come home? why does the love go away? why does everyone leave? why couldn't he be happy with me?
i am allowing myself to be sad. for the first time.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
soundtrack..."musical" edition
i have always loved loved loved musical theatre. since i was a kid.
i stage managed many musicals through college and out in the "real" theatre world...they are my favorite type of theatre to watch, and to work on...
my favorite professor, who directed many of the musicals i worked on, would say that musicals are even better than "straight" theatre (non-musical), or even real life, because in a musical, when just speaking your mind or your emotions no longer can express the depths of what you're feeling, and just walking around the stage is not enough...you have to fucking dance...and you have to fucking sing...
i completely agree.
it's so powerful that it just BURSTS out of you in a song. there are few things that i would compare to the rush of belting (badly) a really powerful musical number, written to be raw with emotion. i wish real life could be a musical...
here is a list of some of my favorite songs from musicals. songs that, for me, burst out of me when what i'm feeling cannot be expressed without musical accompianment...
1. gimme gimme...thoroughly modern millie
2. i'll cover you (reprise)...rent
3. you should be loved...side show
4. new music...ragtime
5. sarah brown eyes...ragtime
6. i never wanted to love you...march of the falsettos
7. holding to the ground...falsettoland
8. what would i do?...falsettoland
9. not while i'm around...sweeney todd
10. climbing uphill...the last five years
11. stars and the moon...songs for a new world
12. any time...elegies
13. i'd give it all for you...songs for a new world
14. hitchhiking across america...infinnite joy
15. i can do better than that...the last five years
16. still hurting...the last five years
17. defying gravity...wicked
18. you can't stop the beat...hairspray
19. i'd rather be sailing...infinnite joy
20. without love...hairspray
21. make them hear you...ragtime
22. set those sails...infinnite joy
the albums/recordings listed here are my favorite versions of the songs. some of them come from original musicals, but were re-done in revues of the composer (in the case of William Finn's music that i have listed)...
let the music burst out of you sometimes...it feels fucking great.
i stage managed many musicals through college and out in the "real" theatre world...they are my favorite type of theatre to watch, and to work on...
my favorite professor, who directed many of the musicals i worked on, would say that musicals are even better than "straight" theatre (non-musical), or even real life, because in a musical, when just speaking your mind or your emotions no longer can express the depths of what you're feeling, and just walking around the stage is not enough...you have to fucking dance...and you have to fucking sing...
i completely agree.
it's so powerful that it just BURSTS out of you in a song. there are few things that i would compare to the rush of belting (badly) a really powerful musical number, written to be raw with emotion. i wish real life could be a musical...
here is a list of some of my favorite songs from musicals. songs that, for me, burst out of me when what i'm feeling cannot be expressed without musical accompianment...
1. gimme gimme...thoroughly modern millie
2. i'll cover you (reprise)...rent
3. you should be loved...side show
4. new music...ragtime
5. sarah brown eyes...ragtime
6. i never wanted to love you...march of the falsettos
7. holding to the ground...falsettoland
8. what would i do?...falsettoland
9. not while i'm around...sweeney todd
10. climbing uphill...the last five years
11. stars and the moon...songs for a new world
12. any time...elegies
13. i'd give it all for you...songs for a new world
14. hitchhiking across america...infinnite joy
15. i can do better than that...the last five years
16. still hurting...the last five years
17. defying gravity...wicked
18. you can't stop the beat...hairspray
19. i'd rather be sailing...infinnite joy
20. without love...hairspray
21. make them hear you...ragtime
22. set those sails...infinnite joy
the albums/recordings listed here are my favorite versions of the songs. some of them come from original musicals, but were re-done in revues of the composer (in the case of William Finn's music that i have listed)...
let the music burst out of you sometimes...it feels fucking great.
Monday, September 29, 2008
i know you're trying to help...
but fuck you.
and that is what i think everytime someone over the past week has said:
"you'll find someone better"
or
"there are other fish in the sea"
or
"at least you know now, and not five years from now"
or, my personal favorite:
"the good ones stay. if he's a good one, he'll come back and stay. if he's not good, then you're better off"
listen, i honestly honestly do appreciate you making the effort to be sympathetic, even though it's a pretty lame and stereotypical response when confronted with someone who's heart is breaking in front of you.
i'm not really looking for sympathy. what i'm looking for is empathy. i'm looking for understanding. i'm looking for someone to look me squarely in the eye and say "dude. that sucks. it's going to suck for a while. it's going to hurt for a while. maybe it won't be a long while, but it will hurt. and it's ok to be sad for a while."
don't give me your typical (and, frankly, outdated) response to the end of a love. it's like you have NEVER felt it before. and i know that's not true. every one of us has had their heart broken. it happens every day. so don't give me your fake sympathy, please.
save it. give me something real.
this is about compassion. this is about looking at another HUMAN being and recognizing that they are in pain, and maybe you should just not say anything at all. i know it's considered 'polite' to share a response. fuck being polite. i don't want it. i am raw and unhinged and sensitive and vulnerable, and all i want is for someone to acknowledge that it's ok to be sad about losing a lover.
maybe it's LA. maybe it's our culture of disposal. disposable cell phones. disposable razors. disposable cups. disposable love. we're NOT SUPPOSED to care. we're SUPPOSED to be able to bounce back right away. we're SUPPOSED to not really care.
well i do care. i spent a lot of time pretending i didn't. but dammit, this fucking hurts. it hurts over and over again in all kinds of different and unique ways that i have never experienced before. i am sad. i will continue to be sad for as long as it takes for me to no longer be sad. i will cry myself to sleep while clutching his t-shirt for as long as i want.
so, thank you. honestly, thank you. i know that this is awkward, me crying in front of you. i know that you aren't sure what to say, and while you may feel pity or sorry for me, please understand that i don't want that. i want you to look at me, broken in front of you, and dig into yourself and remember being heartbroken. over anything. i don't care what it is: a pet, a family member, a broken bike, or maybe your own loss of the person who made colors brighter and seemed to filter the purest sun to shine on you every moment...i want you to dig deep and find that experience, and then i want you to remember what you wanted to hear then. and what you hated hearing then. i want you to find your COMPASSION. i just want this to be ACKNOWLEDGED as legitimate.
and then, if all you can come up with is "there are other fish in the sea"....save it and let me help you.
say nothing. hug me. and if you feel like you need to say ANYTHING, then say:
"i know it hurts. and it might hurt for a while."
and that is what i think everytime someone over the past week has said:
"you'll find someone better"
or
"there are other fish in the sea"
or
"at least you know now, and not five years from now"
or, my personal favorite:
"the good ones stay. if he's a good one, he'll come back and stay. if he's not good, then you're better off"
listen, i honestly honestly do appreciate you making the effort to be sympathetic, even though it's a pretty lame and stereotypical response when confronted with someone who's heart is breaking in front of you.
i'm not really looking for sympathy. what i'm looking for is empathy. i'm looking for understanding. i'm looking for someone to look me squarely in the eye and say "dude. that sucks. it's going to suck for a while. it's going to hurt for a while. maybe it won't be a long while, but it will hurt. and it's ok to be sad for a while."
don't give me your typical (and, frankly, outdated) response to the end of a love. it's like you have NEVER felt it before. and i know that's not true. every one of us has had their heart broken. it happens every day. so don't give me your fake sympathy, please.
save it. give me something real.
this is about compassion. this is about looking at another HUMAN being and recognizing that they are in pain, and maybe you should just not say anything at all. i know it's considered 'polite' to share a response. fuck being polite. i don't want it. i am raw and unhinged and sensitive and vulnerable, and all i want is for someone to acknowledge that it's ok to be sad about losing a lover.
maybe it's LA. maybe it's our culture of disposal. disposable cell phones. disposable razors. disposable cups. disposable love. we're NOT SUPPOSED to care. we're SUPPOSED to be able to bounce back right away. we're SUPPOSED to not really care.
well i do care. i spent a lot of time pretending i didn't. but dammit, this fucking hurts. it hurts over and over again in all kinds of different and unique ways that i have never experienced before. i am sad. i will continue to be sad for as long as it takes for me to no longer be sad. i will cry myself to sleep while clutching his t-shirt for as long as i want.
so, thank you. honestly, thank you. i know that this is awkward, me crying in front of you. i know that you aren't sure what to say, and while you may feel pity or sorry for me, please understand that i don't want that. i want you to look at me, broken in front of you, and dig into yourself and remember being heartbroken. over anything. i don't care what it is: a pet, a family member, a broken bike, or maybe your own loss of the person who made colors brighter and seemed to filter the purest sun to shine on you every moment...i want you to dig deep and find that experience, and then i want you to remember what you wanted to hear then. and what you hated hearing then. i want you to find your COMPASSION. i just want this to be ACKNOWLEDGED as legitimate.
and then, if all you can come up with is "there are other fish in the sea"....save it and let me help you.
say nothing. hug me. and if you feel like you need to say ANYTHING, then say:
"i know it hurts. and it might hurt for a while."
Friday, September 26, 2008
playlist o' weeping...
I've been avoiding music for the past week (seriously, i almost freaked out at a store when etta james started with "at last")...but today I put a few songs on a playlist, hoping to jar a catharsis...
it's nothing new or too creative, but it's working for me...you'll notice that there are several artists that are repeated...these are artists that i have gone to many times over the years for soothing, balm-like relief for any sort of heartache...
1. i just don't think i'll ever get over you...colin hay
2. brightest...copeland
3. breathe me...sia
4. there cannot be a close second...copeland
5. lies...glen hansard and marketa irglova (from the "once" soundtrack)
6. look after you...the fray
7. that particular time...alanis morissette
8. goodbye my lover...james blunt
9. fidelity...regina spektor
10. hold on...sarah mclachlan
11. ordinary people...john legend
12. never is a promise...fiona apple
13. where does the good go?...tegan and sara
14. next lifetime...erykah badu
15. chasing pavements...adele
16. microphone preacher (i write your name on my thumb)...HYIM
17. romeo and juliet...dire straits
18. fear...sarah mclachlan
19. holes...ani difranco
20. my way home...citizen cope
21. when your mind's made up...glen hansard and marketa irglova (from the once soundtrack)
22. samson...regina spektor
23. this year's love...david gray
24. full of grace...sarah mclachlan
25. the entire soundtrack to "the last five years"...jason robert brown
#8 has really been on repeat. say what you want about james blunt, but dude knows how to croon about the end of a relationship with your best friend.
#13 seems especially appropriate right now. and a friend of mine listened to it over and over again when the love of his life left him.
#16 is one of the most beautiful songs i have ever heard in my entire life. it is, literally, poetry set to music. it is one of my favorite songs, and, ironically, it is one that he introduced me to.
some of them are indulgent, weepy, "chick" songs. eh. i'll take it.
i suggest that anyone who has ever been in love purchase the soundtracks to both "once" and "the last five years"...they are amazing.
enjoy. or, you know, sob uncontrollably on the treadmill at the gym. whatever works for you.
what do you listen to when the floor has fallen out from under your life?
it's nothing new or too creative, but it's working for me...you'll notice that there are several artists that are repeated...these are artists that i have gone to many times over the years for soothing, balm-like relief for any sort of heartache...
1. i just don't think i'll ever get over you...colin hay
2. brightest...copeland
3. breathe me...sia
4. there cannot be a close second...copeland
5. lies...glen hansard and marketa irglova (from the "once" soundtrack)
6. look after you...the fray
7. that particular time...alanis morissette
8. goodbye my lover...james blunt
9. fidelity...regina spektor
10. hold on...sarah mclachlan
11. ordinary people...john legend
12. never is a promise...fiona apple
13. where does the good go?...tegan and sara
14. next lifetime...erykah badu
15. chasing pavements...adele
16. microphone preacher (i write your name on my thumb)...HYIM
17. romeo and juliet...dire straits
18. fear...sarah mclachlan
19. holes...ani difranco
20. my way home...citizen cope
21. when your mind's made up...glen hansard and marketa irglova (from the once soundtrack)
22. samson...regina spektor
23. this year's love...david gray
24. full of grace...sarah mclachlan
25. the entire soundtrack to "the last five years"...jason robert brown
#8 has really been on repeat. say what you want about james blunt, but dude knows how to croon about the end of a relationship with your best friend.
#13 seems especially appropriate right now. and a friend of mine listened to it over and over again when the love of his life left him.
#16 is one of the most beautiful songs i have ever heard in my entire life. it is, literally, poetry set to music. it is one of my favorite songs, and, ironically, it is one that he introduced me to.
some of them are indulgent, weepy, "chick" songs. eh. i'll take it.
i suggest that anyone who has ever been in love purchase the soundtracks to both "once" and "the last five years"...they are amazing.
enjoy. or, you know, sob uncontrollably on the treadmill at the gym. whatever works for you.
what do you listen to when the floor has fallen out from under your life?
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