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recovering the satellites
Aug. 19th, 2014 07:33 pmDAY THIRTEEN: whatever tickles your fancy
Alright then. Whatever it is.
I got up and ran five and a half miles today. Almost seventeen miles in the past three days. My thighs hurt a little.
I am listening to the Counting Crows. There's this album, Recovering the Satellites that came out in 1996. During one of the worst years of my life it was in my stereo constantly. Later, after I got out of the hospital, it would play sometimes in my boyfriend's Honda when we drove places. I listened to it over and over and over in that year after my suicide attempt. I think I didn't really have emotions then. I was faking it to keep moving, trying to figure out what to tell people that they wanted to hear. Because no one wanted to hear that I thought I was still dead inside, that I was so numb and crazy. Because I had learned that you just couldn't trust people that year.
I would turn it up and scream along to "Catapult" when I could. Won't somebody save me please
But oh this album. It is good. I haven't listened to it in over a decade probably. But I know every word. I remember them because I would sing to myself in my bedroom, standing in front of the wall I covered with magazine collages and posters. I would turn it up on the stereo and lose myself for a little while. (That same stereo I argued with an EMT about - they kept trying to turn it down. I have never, ever listened to Kraftwerk's Computer World album since that day.)
These words have stuck with me, for whatever reason. For most of my adult life "Angels of the Silences" was the song I knew all the words to and would sing to myself when I needed a rhythm for something. I remember sweeping, setting up the carts of books outside Half Price in 2001, and singing it under my breath in the bright autumn sunlight.
I would give a lot to have a decent singing voice. I am painfully bad at it. If I had one of those magic wishes for a talent, I'd choose to be able to sing.
Anyway. I am listening to this album and feeling an ache for that fucked up sixteen year old and telling myself that I am not that person any more. That I can do this.
( For all the other days )
Alright then. Whatever it is.
I got up and ran five and a half miles today. Almost seventeen miles in the past three days. My thighs hurt a little.
I am listening to the Counting Crows. There's this album, Recovering the Satellites that came out in 1996. During one of the worst years of my life it was in my stereo constantly. Later, after I got out of the hospital, it would play sometimes in my boyfriend's Honda when we drove places. I listened to it over and over and over in that year after my suicide attempt. I think I didn't really have emotions then. I was faking it to keep moving, trying to figure out what to tell people that they wanted to hear. Because no one wanted to hear that I thought I was still dead inside, that I was so numb and crazy. Because I had learned that you just couldn't trust people that year.
I would turn it up and scream along to "Catapult" when I could. Won't somebody save me please
But oh this album. It is good. I haven't listened to it in over a decade probably. But I know every word. I remember them because I would sing to myself in my bedroom, standing in front of the wall I covered with magazine collages and posters. I would turn it up on the stereo and lose myself for a little while. (That same stereo I argued with an EMT about - they kept trying to turn it down. I have never, ever listened to Kraftwerk's Computer World album since that day.)
These words have stuck with me, for whatever reason. For most of my adult life "Angels of the Silences" was the song I knew all the words to and would sing to myself when I needed a rhythm for something. I remember sweeping, setting up the carts of books outside Half Price in 2001, and singing it under my breath in the bright autumn sunlight.
I would give a lot to have a decent singing voice. I am painfully bad at it. If I had one of those magic wishes for a talent, I'd choose to be able to sing.
Anyway. I am listening to this album and feeling an ache for that fucked up sixteen year old and telling myself that I am not that person any more. That I can do this.
( For all the other days )