Ever since I heard "Stupid Girl" in 1995, I have been a fan of the band Garbage.

After "Beautiful Garbage" first came out I listened to it feverishly for weeks on end. I would put it on during my treks through a local park, I played it in my car and on my stereo during early evening. It sort of became a "breakup" album, the kind of music you listen to leech out and attack emotional pain.

Last night I took it off my CD rack and listened to it and I fell in love with "Beautiful Garbage" all over again.

Soulful medicine that tugs at you can be found in tracks such as "So Like A Rose," a song so fragile and pretty it's like a deer you don't want to frighten away. The same goes for the equally powerful but subtly different "Cup of Coffee" and "Drive You Home." Lead singer Shirley Manson combines sweet vulnerability and strength in a way few female singers do. (Well with the possible exception of Aimee Mann, but her music is not really the same at all.)

The more rock-driven titles that are catchy but not so pop that they lose their power include "Shut Your Mouth" (raw and edgy and a much better--and more appropriate--song for female empowerment than "I am Women, Hear Me Roar" ever was) and "Til The Day I Die" (a high-powered lament about loving someone more than you would prefer.)

I love this album so much I've gone through three copies over the years!!

Late this afternoon, after work, I did something I never ever do: I went by the liquor store. I didn't get anything too heavy, mostly because I can count on one hand how many times I've had alcohol in my life and I've never been drunk. I don't plan on it in the future, either.

It's weird how I pass by the place whenever I go to the local Giant grocery store and not once have I seen a woman go in or out of the door. I swore to myself when I was younger that I would never go in one because I'd seen firsthand what alcohol did to members of my family. I associated going in during the day as something almost devilish and disturbing.

But today I went in anyway and, just as I'd seen among many exits over the years, there were only men inside. No one paid me any attention, but I still felt like I was out of place.

I bought Seagram's Calypso Colada and, besides being the exact shade of the Caribbean ocean, it tastes heavenly...a huge surprise for me since the taste of wine, beer or any other like it has never appealed to me. But there is one thing I remember from the few times I've imbibed and that's the pleasant numbness that starts to spread through you. You forget things that bother you and even relax to the point you find nothing wrong with the world at all.

Of course, this is not something I want to get in the habit of, at all. I hate the thought of using numbness to try and feel better about things. It's not healthy nor is it any kind of solution at all. And it won't make forget what I most want to forget.

It has given me an odd clarity, though, on the situation I write about here from time to time. I realize in all this unrequited love mess, or crush (or whatever it is), that I don't want the person to like me back. It's not only impossible and wrong, it's not what's at the heart of the problem for me.

Ever since I discovered I have feelings for her, I've been wrestling with intense guilt. And I guess I would love (more than anything else related to it) to know that if she did know she would somehow find it possible to forgive me.


...

In a slightly related manner, I did a Google search and found this terrific wiki how article on being indifferent:

how to be indifferent

 

 

 

 

Whenever I change my mind and decide to try and start dating again, I am always always sorry. Not because the other person is a bad date, but because my experiences end up reminding me that I’m the one who is and Friday nights at home are really better than any night out.

That look (on polite women's faces it’s more a flicker) of disappointment as soon as we meet is disheartening, but the false promises of “I’ll call you” or patronizing declarations of "you're so sweet" are more cruel than actual cruelness would be.

“You don’t look like you sound on the phone” is the most brutal and direct it’s ever gotten and even that’s still mild. Better to be slapped with a hard truth than caressed with a soft lie, the saying goes...or somewhere along those lines.

I’m done. I say this to myself a lot when I get home from a bad date, especially a bad blind date. But this time I mean it. I had only tried again anyway because I am so desperate to forget someone I really do like, who besides being a totally inappropriate and unattainable person to feel this way about is so far outside my league she might as well live at the edge of the universe.

It’s funny. I’ve had one-sided crushes before and been just fine. And I’ve had many bad dates before and been fine afterwards, too. In the past, I could rationalize away the pain because we didn’t have much in common (important things like values and philosophies regarding love and fidelity) anyway.

For the first time in my life, though, books and music just aren’t enough to fill those little holes inside that insist on getting bigger and won't be plugged up with my favorite novels and songs.
 

That visage of someone vague but eventual I used to hope I’d meet someday, the one I’d cook and be there for and snuggle with on the couch watching movies after a long day, is fading more and more each year. The hope you can have in your 20s of falling in love and growing old with someone shines a lot brighter than it does in your 40s.

It's not the bad dates or even this gut instinct that I'm meant to be alone that sadden me. In fact, I'm sure I'm eventually going to be fine and at peace with all of this and books and music will once again put everything back where it belongs.

It's just sometimes in life you meet someone so amazing they somehow leave you longing for something you can never, will never and should never have. The dream becomes a nightmare and only when the dream is over, when you realize you never should have had it all, does true happy ever after begin.

 

 

 

 

 

My niece introduced me to this wonderful, wonderful album called Vessel by twenty/one/pilots. The whole effect is kind of what you might get if you mixed Jason Mraz with Weezer and threw in a much gentler and more soulful Eminem. The cover art perfectly captures the surprisingly delightful "what to make of it" elements.

"Migraine" and "Screen" are my absolute favorites, with the latter having an awesome, awesome beat and joyous sounds, even while the lyrics are sad in perfect counterpoint:

I'm standing in front of you

I'm standing in front of you
I'm trying to be so cool
Everything together trying to be so cool

^^^

At this point in the song, everything is swirling together and the earnestness and vulnerability of the singer being in front of someone he likes is almost more than the listener can bear. Your heart rises and falls at the same time.

Later, lead singer Tyler Joseph raps in a touching but tough confessional:

My flow's not great, okay, I conversate with people
Who know if I flow on a song I'll get no radio play
While you're doing fine, there's some people and I
Who have a really tough time getting through this life
So excuse us while we sing to the sky.

I know this is going to be an album I'll wear out listening to over and over again. :)

Ever since I first heard "Chasing Cars" years ago I have been completely and most biasedly in love with Snow Patrol's sound. It can be uplifting to the human spirit and devastatingly sad for the soul at the same time. I pretty much cannot be trusted when it comes to reviewing anything by Snow Patrol because they could just sing the phone book and I'd be right there, ready to listen.

"Lifening" is my favorite from Fallen Empires (how can your breath not catch when Gary Lightbody sings: 'To share what I've been given/Some kids eventually/And be for them what I've had/A father like my dad'?) His voice is magical, perfect poetry.

And just as they have on previous albums, they make your heart break pretty much throughout every song. The closest thing to dance they've probably ever done is "Called Out In The Dark." But just because their mood rarely wavers doesn't mean they repeat the same old thing over and over. There's "The Garden Rules" sad (which is pretty darn sad) and then there's mellow sad ("Those Distant Bells.") The subtle sounds of electronica that appear on such likable tracks as "The Symphony" are kind of new for them, if I'm not mistaken.

The title track sounds different than anything Snow Patrol's done before and "The Symphony" (it's kind of sensual,almost something you softly can groove to) and "The President" are two other stand-out tracks. I love everything here, but you can't really take my word on that, can you? :) You have to listen for yourself.

Maybe some lines from Snow Patrol sum it up best: "A record plays/A song that you've not heard/It is perfect/It is home."