Last night my gracious friend Alaya (she drove) and I went to see this anomaly at the Beacon, a favorite venue of mine for years and it was everything I had hoped it would be. I would go into detail about the show, but it would tarnish my personal experience and it was more internalized than that. I will say that the Belt Parkway landfill stank that was residing on the jackwagon in front of us, was overbearing and unnecessary. Jesus Fuck, work that out.
Moving on to maybe not so green, but different and more personal pastures...
Quite possibly my favorite Tori Amos song.
"Spark"
She's addicted to nicotine patches
She's addicted to nicotine patches
She's afraid of the light in the dark
6:58 are you sure where my spark is
Here
Here
Here
She's convinced she could hold back a glacier
But she couldn't keep Baby alive
Doubting if there's a woman in there somewhere
Here
You say you don't want it again
And again but you don't really mean it
You say you don't want it
This circus we're in
But you don't you don't really mean it
You don't really mean it
if the Divine master plan is perfection
Maybe next I'll give Judas a try
Trusting my soul to the ice cream assassin
Here
You say you don't want it again
And again but you don't really mean it
You say you don't want it
This cirucs we're in
But you don't you don't really mean it
You don't really mean it
How may fates turn around in the overtime
Ballerinas that have fins that you'll never find
You thought that you were the bomb yeah
Well so did I
Say you don't want it
Say you don't want it
Say you don't want it again
And again but you don't really mean it
Say you don't want it
This circus we're in
But you don't you don't really mean it
You don't really mean it
She's addicted to nicotine patches
She's afraid of the light in the dark
6:58 are you sure where my spark is
Here
This song always makes me think of my estranged son whom I have not seen since he was 5. The mistakes I have made in my life are continuous, lengthy and accompanied by a streak of guilt and shame that could easily turn into a new mental disorder. However, this particular wound is a deciduous one in the way that I can expect a certain amount of falling apart at distinct times during the year more so than others. This is one of them. There's nothing that can suspend time, an uncomfortable sharpness that I have created for however long it remains.
My hope is that a heartfelt anything will rear it's head and abandon confusion. I guess waiting is still, the only option...
