I can't place my finger on it, but these songs have something in common.
- Beirut: Scenic World (Lon Gisland EP version)
- Sigur Ros: Gobbledigook
- Coldplay: Viva La Vida
- The Eels: Fresh Feeling
- Veda4: Life Is Beautiful
- The Killers: Dustland Fairytale
- Dresden Dolls: Pretty In Pink
- Keane: Somewhere Only We Know
- Sufjan Stevens: The Predatory Wasp Of The Palisades Is Out To Get Us!
There is this euphoric, soaring sound to these songs that is so exactly right lately- these are the true meat of my running playlist, this joyful giddy gorgeous music that straightens my back and sends me running with a grin. I must look insane, but I want more. Music geeks? (Layne? I know you can help me out here, girl.)
The running, by the way- it's wonderful, the only thing that gives me any real peace lately. Addictive, the oblivion of the thing, the nothingness of physicality; I have to fight the urge to take two runs a day, looking for that absolute quiet. I don't want to burn out my joints too quickly and lose this; I stretch instead, I take my walks, I read poetry and watch foreign love stories. I wake up in the morning eager and hungry and itching to stretch my legs, which is strange: I am not a morning girl. This is what keeps me from screaming at the ridiculous pettiness of people when seen extended and up close, what keeps me from just giving up on all of it and going home over the subhuman lack of empathy and ethics I encounter here. This keeps me straight, and focused, and ready; I tuck the bullshit bits of my day into a mental pocket for my speed training.
There is also the knitting, the other quiet part of my life, something small and simple and all mine. Goal- oriented and distracting. I've begun Billy's scarf, although it really does seem like it'll take another 3 months to finish- a double- knit, irregularly striped scarf in sock- weight yarn. What am I thinking, right? And still, I work away at the thing. I love the fabric it's making- soft and squishy and supercomfy, and the whole reversible bit seems like magic (even though it's really, really not). It's also sort of mindless without being straight stockinette, which I'm a fan of for my work knitting- easy to pick up, easy to put down.
I re- read this and it sounds as though life is a lot harder than it is, really. There is still free beef jerky and lovely cold early nights, house progress emails from Sam and texts from Kiddo, quiet showers alone at night, $20 massages. I wouldn't call it happiness, per se, but there is comfort here, and contentment.