2001-11-16|5:53 p.m.
In high school I used to know this girl through mutual friends. She didn�t have the best reputation, so to speak. She dated a lot of guys and constantly talked about them using phrases like, �Oooh, that is a nice piece of ass.� About a year ago, I learned that she had married a woman she met out of high school.
The world throws strange curves when you least expect it.
My throat hurts. I don�t think from sickness, but maybe. I just need to get a drink of water. If only there were clean cups.
The past two weeks at work, I have been listening to Gillian Welch�s newest album, Time (the Revelator). Over and over. It is as if I need it. I have to have it playing for me. If you haven�t heard her or this album before, I suggest you do. It is simply wonderful. I love what music like this can do to you. It is the sorrowful anthem of mankind, as melodramatic as that sounds. I still hold by it though. The closest thing I can compare it to is Emo, in the way it makes you feel. But even still if Emo music is sad music, but it is simply the music of woe trapped within a bubble or muffled, deep within a cave, which is still very good, but not the same. A good blue grass song is like pressing your head up to the chest of someone and hearing them breath, feeling the chest fall and rise, imagining the blood flow carefully through each vein, and knowing its impermanence. Good blue grass is at times a song to God, praying that he really does love you, even though there never really is that assurance, and yet still knowing that it is ok that it doesn�t fall into place because that is why it is so sacred. Good blue grass is those perfect moments that challenge your heart to not think of tomorrow�s competing gloom. Good blue grass is so simple that it can never be what it seems. I always thought that Carl Jung�s collective unconscious theory was pretty silly, and for the most part unfounded; and yet, if someone can feel that same moment, same pause that I can feel with a song, then it may be true. We can somehow pass through some similar plane, and be one and never know it. It is both comforting to me and devastating to me at the same time, and I cannot explain how.
Word of the Day: anhedonia (this is a word on loan)- a psychological condition characterized by inability to experience pleasure in normally pleasurable acts.