My very dear friend Lauren and I are in the process of putting together a joint blog. We're taking turns proposing a theme for the week. She writes a non-fiction response to it, I write a poem, and we'll post them together.
However, while we're thinking up a title/designing said blog, we're posting separately. You can find her excellent reflection on this week's theme "Thirst" here. Mine is below, based on the 4th Chapter of John's Gospel.
Thirst
John 4:6-7
He surprised me when we met
by asking only for a drink of water.
There were no catcalls, no surreptitious touches.
He did not laugh with his friends while I pretended not to hear.
He just wanted a drink of water.
As I drew it, he told me that I looked tired--
that it must have been difficult to be always fetching and carrying.
Before I knew it, I was telling him everything.
From the rudeness of men to the cruelty of women.
When I was afraid I might begin to cry, he touched my hand.
I left a box of things at Susan's for you. I accidentally packed them when I left last Saturday. A few things I took out of spite and now want to return because I feel childish. Little things, mostly. The picture of you, backpacking, your hair tucked away under a bandanna. My key and this month's rent. Your sister's glasses, the ones she left the night I drank too much wine and told you I was in love with you. Your Rufus Wainwright CDs and season five of The Wire. I watched the series finale and it was every bit as good as you said. Some socks and underwear and that favorite tie of yours. The one that matches my polka dot party dress. The dress I wore when we slow danced at Mark's wedding and everyone asked each other if we were next. Some bigger things. Your grandmother's ring, the one you told me keep, your credit card, and the dog's leash and dogfood. Hopefully enough to last until I find something new. Oh, and that Graham Greene novel you always wanted me to read. I finally did. It was all right.
Something about my Patsy Cline's Greatest Hits made you laugh when you pulled it off my shelf. Do people still listen to this? I told you yes, over a glass of bourbon and a broken heart. I don’t remember what we did after that conversation—whether it was make dinner or have a glass of wine or if we just went up to bed—but you did tell me that you didn’t believe in broken hearts or bourbon. Come to think about it, you never really came around to liking Patsy either.
What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?--High Fidelity
About a month ago, my friend John was browsing through my itunes playlist Top 25 Songs.
“Holy crap.” He said.
“Wait! I can explain the Beyonce! I listen to her while I’m stretching before a run.”
“No. It’s not that. Although, I call bullshit on that. Do you realize you’ve played the song “Crown” by Mason Jennings 300 times?”
“Uhhh. Yup.”
I am, at 25, becoming something of a connoisseur of break-up songs. I think heartbreak and misery are just functions of being in your 20s, much like financial and personal instability and the inability to live in the same apartment for more than a year. They’re part of a person’s first tentative steps into adulthood and understanding yourself and what you want out of your life and your partnerships. Thankfully, while I’m a self-described Romantic I do have a strong dose of Prosen family pragmatism. I don’t believe in destiny, fate, soul-mates, or “the One” for a variety of reasons (which is a whole different post). This, I think, has made dealing with the whole dating/breaking up aspect of my adult life exponentially easier. I never have second thoughts about someone being the one person out of billions for whom I was meant. If we clicked really well, it was just a testament of chemistry, and I’ll have equal or greater chemistry and attraction to another person soon enough.
I don’t want to come across as heartless here. Breakups, regardless of belief in destiny or fate are still wrenching and leave me feeling discombobulated and wondering if a future full of cats and stacks of old newspapers isn’t really that far off. Like many people, I have my list of go-to’s when a break-up happens. The girlfriend who’s always your wingwoman, the bottle of bourbon on hand for drowning your sorrows, the dress that makes you feel like a million dollars, the guy who reminds you that you’re stunning, brilliant, and hilarious. More importantly, however, I have the go-to list of songs that inevitably make me feel better.
5. Crown: Mason Jennnings
What can I say, really? It has 300+ plays on my itunes and has been the soundtrack to one of the more complicated and difficult relationships of my adult life. Mason understands love and falling into and out of it better than many other songwriters I’ve heard.
Favorite lyric(s): It just kind of happened or so she said/she was drinkin’ and lonely/you know now the rest/he was nothing/he was happenstance/she says she loves me still/wants a second chance
4. Jolene: Ray LaMontagne
This is my favorite feeling-sorry-for-myself breakup song. Something about Ray’s voice gets me every time. The song is so wistful and self-loathing it pretty much sums up the gigantic puddle of self-pity/self-destructive behaviors that I seem to indulge in every freakin' time a relationship ends.
Favorite lyric: I still don’t know what love means
3. Don’t Think Twice: Bob Dylan
I’m not talking about the later, wistful “I wish my love wouldn’t have left me" recording. In one of the earlier recordings, Bob is straight up pissed and rightfully so—it’s as though he’s talking to every person who’s ever strung you along in some kind of emotional purgatory. I love it because it gets at the self-absorption of so many of us in our failed relationships. Thank you, Bob.
Favorite lyric(s): Well, I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind/you could have done better but I don’t mind/you just kinda wasted my precious time/but don’t think twice, it’s all right
2. For Emma: Bon Iver
Lyrically sparse and absolutely beautiful, this may be one of my all-time favorite songs. It may be because I knew the story behind For Emma, Forever Ago before I actually heard the album, but this song is so loaded with emotion, it’s incredible. Additionally, I just think it’s pretty.
Favorite lyric(s) Go find another lover/to bring-a/to string a-long/for all your lies/you’re still very loveable.
1.Leavin’ On Your Mind: Patsy Cline
Every time I’ve had an actual broken heart, the remedy for the first night freshly single is a glass of bourbon and my Patsy Cline greatest hits album. I grew up on Patsy, and I still think that she conveys the conflicting feelings you seem to inevitably have for your ex better than anyone. This is one of my two favorite Patsy songs (the other is “She’s Got You”). I love this one particularly because I feel like everyone’s been in the situation of knowing someone’s getting ready to leave you but lacking the guts to end it before they can hurt you. Oh man. It doesn’t get much better than Patsy.
Favorite lyric: Hurt me now, get it over/I may learn to love again.
Honorable mention:
She’s Got You: Patsy Cline
For all of the aforementioned great Patsy characteristics, except this song is about looking at all of your ex’s stuff and realizing that he’s happy without his favorite things as long as he has his new girl.
Favorites: I’ve got your picture and it’s signed with love/ just like it used to be/the only thing different, the only thing new/I’ve got your picture/she’s got you
