... and the roads to the canyon were closed
for our safety, I suppose...
Before I forget: Girlym*n, people. They are amazing. H. and I saw them open for Dar last weekend and I've never loved a band so much or so instantly. I now go into Girlywithdrawal if I don't hear the CD at least once every two hours.
For a couple weeks, almost every day, I keep being reminded of Angie's mom's question: How good can you let things get? It's a really profound question in its way, a way I can't communicate right now, but... the things, they are good. He's good. We're good. Better than good, good in a way I didn't know things could be.
It's also kicking the crap out of my vocabulary, apparently. And, as most of you know, my natural superstition about jinxing myself (now joining forces with my paranoia about revealing things to the whole world wide web) doesn't approve of me saying much more -- in fact, it thinks even this has gone a little too far.
The sound of your voice is like longing feels
When you whispered my name in the dark.
And the thick yellow Brooklyn
Night sky through the window
Burned itself into me,
Deep as my history.
2 comments:
the goodness of girlym*n, it is immeasurable.
even more than gman, the goodness of grg is immeasurable. if grg is happy, we're happy.
I must hear this Girlym*n of which you speak.
And of which Antje speaks.
So, that pretty much covers all of the people whose taste in music influences my own entirely.
:)
And I'm all for the happy. :)
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