There are few things that can inspire melancholy than uncertainty. I would concede that uncertainty about the greatest emotional vulnerabilities are the most unsettling. To call out and be met with nothing but an echo trailing off. To hear her voice echo in your head as it trails off in the air, met with an inadequate response. To swoon is to be flung aloft and suspended for a time, to pine is to smart on the ground after landing.
Sarah Jaffe has mastered the art of melancholy musically. I'm letting her sing me back to sleep at this late hour, if only for a little while. When I wake up, I will still hear the siren song with no melody or rhythm in my head, composed of the gaze, the smile, the warmth and cool of another that seems both distant and close, the earth and the moon indeed. In the silence of space our light is the only trace of our existence we leave. That becomes our voice. My heart races when she lights up in my presence, and if I could glow, I would. When she coolly forgoes acknowledging me it's as if a cloud obscured the sun on a beautiful day.
Basically TBR (Toilet Bowl Reading).
Through 2014 each post was named for a song, which is linked in its title. click to listen (preferably launch in a new tab or window though)
2015 onward: I have no clue what will inspire my rambling, as if I needed anything in the first place? The reigns are off, and the rambling truly begins.
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