Smother, by Wild Beasts, is perfectly titled, evoking stifled cries and what it’s like to be suffocated with so much longing that even whispers barely come out.
 

I have always been attracted to albums with the potential to break your heart. I don’t know why. I don’t particularly enjoy wallowing in sad music; I just know that when I hear a really good sad song it floods through my soul, like laughter or chills. It’s cathartic the way a really good cry is. You kind of feel better afterward.

Wild Beasts sensational album, Smother, which ended up on several “Best of 2011” album lists (including music magazines Under The Radar and Uncut), is a beautiful creature. The lead singer has a distinctive voice; I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone else sing like he does. Songs like "Albatross" and "Bed of Nails" are so gorgeous and heart-wrenching they should come with warning labels.

 I was hesitant to believe their new album Present Tense could possibly stand up to its predecessor. I'm still taking it all in and I still prefer Smother, but there's something about this present I like.

<<<I saw this the other day and it really struck a chord with me. I put the book on hold at my local library and can't wait to read it, hoping it will help me lots!!

<<This pretty much says it all about David Bowie's "Let's Dance."  :)

"Physical attraction didn't explain why every time she happened upon Amelia unexpectedly, Caton felt her mouth go dry, her heart race and the immediate desire to find something to say that would make Amelia see her as less of a burden." If ever a sentence spoke to how it can feel when you first start to like someone you know you shouldn't, this may be it. What begins as a "senseless attraction" for Caton, hired to assist wealthy Amelia Halston in her charity functions, slowly escalates to something much more, even if that "much more" is more sexual than anything else and is, sometimes, just a little too disturbing.

In the early stages of their awkward working relationship (though I use the term "working" very loosely) Caton (to her credit) tries (oh boy, does she try!) to resist her feelings by using "civil avoidance," a term that perfectly describes how she tactfully and politely avoids her boss whenever possible. Amelia, on her end, is often nothing more than a "gaping void of nothingness that often stared back at her." She strikes when she wants to, but makes it seem as if her interest in Caton is merely accidental.

When Caton and Amelia meet, both women are already involved with other people, which makes the whole infidelity aspect a huge detractor for anyone who likes their love stories free of innocent victims. Riley LaShea wisely chooses to have Laura (Caton's girlriend) be a rather generic figure in the story, thereby taking some of the sting away from how Caton disregards her so quickly. Amelia's husband is (to put it mildly) a pompous jerk, who deserves no one's loyalty.

There is lots of connection (of the bedroom and "eyes meeting across the room" sort) and disconnection (between Amelia and her emotions) in Behind The Green Curtain and the amount of erotic interplay within the novel is a bit disconcerting for anyone who prefers their romance more emotional and less full of power plays and dramatic denials.

The writing is so crisp it's almost too much so, to the point that if not for the sudden injection of love and romance in the last fourth of the novel, it would be cynical more than anything else. I guess what kept me reading and reading some more (putting this book aside was rather hard) is how easy it is to relate to Caton and the roller coaster of emotions she experiences.

Is there any point in writing something online no one reads? Probably not. But if you know no one's reading and you still want the somewhat safe illusion someone is, what's the harm in pouring your heart out? If you have an audience of zero, is there anything to be feared or lost when writing something deeply personal that you'd rather no one else know?

There are days when it takes all my self control not to tell this certain person how much I like her. It's not that it would matter, but that it's an actual compulsion inside me I have to sometimes fight, like the urge to break out into a musical number when you know that would just be strange and out of place. Part of me thinks she would hate knowing I like her, the other part knows she wouldn't care either way. 

The first day we met I had such hopes we'd at least get to be co-workers that got along well, if not friends. Now, I know differently. Now, I behave differently. 

With most people I am fine, if a bit too goofy and more chatty than I probably should be. With her, I am completely silent to the point of being rude. I am in such awe of her that it's like a stun gun hits me.

She is the epitome of poise and togetherness, so much so that if it weren't for this kindness that hides behind her eyes, you'd mistake her for aloof, maybe even cold. She's so the opposite of me and I wish I could carry on a conversation with her without turning red or stumbling over my words. 

I thought by now I'd be relaxed around her, but I'm not. She's a super-talented woman, but there's also something else I can't put my finger that makes her hard to dismiss.

Even when I was young, way before I suspected I might be gay, I had trouble talking with people I found fascinating. The more I liked someone (whether platonically or romantically) the more I retreated. At first I found it frustrating, but once I learned I had no poker face at all I realized it was a blessing in disguise.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. Maybe I just want it written somewhere (have it ripped out of my heart and mind, for even a second) so that I keep it hidden in plain sight and don't risk telling her one day.