songs + a short bit i'm puzzling through

Cedar took me out this week, so I’m doing a two-for-one and highlighting some love songs I’ve been listening to a lot lately (while writing) and a bit of another scene I’ve lazily worked on. Feb 1st also marks two celebrations for me:

1. 31 days of Dry January finished1

2. 13 more days till my birthday2

Anyway here are some songs I’ve been listening to. Most of them with some sort of love theme. I’ve thought about doing a wrap-up of my favorite love songs, which come to think of it might make a good Vday post…

Songs and stuff

Wires and Waves, Rilo Kiley For the lyric “sometimes planes they smash up in the sky and sometimes lonely hearts they just get lonelier.”

Crying, Laughing, Loving, Lying, Labi SiffreI watched The Holdovers and loved it so have been listening to that soundtrack off and on. I want to write about the Holdovers too, but have a lot of thoughts to piece together before I can.

Real Love, Big ThiefUsually, when I start listening to Big Thief it’s a pretty good sign that I need to go outside or interact with friends. But I think about the lyric “Real love, real loveReal love makes your lungs black” the same way I think about Toni Morrison’s line from Beloved, “Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.” which I feel like earnestly directs like 95% of the way I love and write about love.

Paul, Big Thief”Oh, the last time I saw Paul I was horrible and almost let him in, but I stopped and caught the wall and my mouth got dry, so all I did was take him for a spin” is a masterclass of writing. Equally as good as the line “Well Paul, I know you said that you’d take me anyway I came or went, but I’ll push you from my brain. See you’re gentle baby, I couldn’t stay, I’d only bring you pain.

Townie, MitskiMainly because I missed my chance at getting tickets for her concert3 in Austin despite literally keeping the window open all day in anticipation.”And I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony, and I want a kiss like my heart is hitting the ground”

Deep in Love, Bonny Light Horseman”Down in the valley, the first of May/Gatherin' flowers, both fresh and gay/Gatherin' flowers, both red and blue/How little thought of what, what love could do/ Don't you break my heart/Don't you break my heart”

I think every love story4 is just finding a different way of saying those final 5 words. Every relationship should start with that, hey I love you so much don’t you break my heart, don’t you break my heart.

A story

“Hey, I wanted to–”“Jesus,” Kaleb5 looked down at his phone to check the time. “You’ve got till Oscar arrives.”“That night I left–” “That morning,” Kaleb interrupted him with a sigh. “What?””You left in the morning,” he continued. “not at night.””What, no I left at night.””No, you’re misremembering it. I spent the night but we woke up early.” Kaleb fished his phone out of his pocket and texted Oscar, asking him where he was.

“You were going back home for Christmas and you needed the daylight. Because you never liked—””Driving in the dark. Fuck. Yeah. I guess I did leave in the morning…I could have sworn it was at night.”

That once certain memory now started to recede in his mind, the fuzzy form of some other scene flickering over in his brain like a frayed film strip. Luis was sure he left at night. He remembered the panicked feeling of driving through pitch-black small towns in Texas. He pounded coffee and blasted music to keep himself awake. He sobbed when lovesongs came up on shuffle. He couldn’t make it the whole way. Texas was too big. He stopped at a dirty motel and booked a cheap room for the night, sleeping in his clothes to avoid the germs.

“I stayed the night. It was so melodramatic. I told you how sorry I was and you held me while I cried like an idiot.” Kaleb looked frustrated and Luis kept his distance, inching further back and resting his back against the balcony wall.

“I said something the wrong way. It was hard for me to say what I was feeling at the time. That was during therapy or like maybe before therapy. But I was sobbing, that sort of pathetic sobbing where you’re also gasping for air and struggling to breathe.”

A new memory, faint but steady surfaced in Luis’ mind: Kaleb’s face splotchy and red, hyperventilating in the front seat of his old beater. Kaleb couldn’t hide it when he was sad. His skin betrayed him every time. Often, after an argument or a tense moment, Luis would look over to see Kaleb running a cold can of sparkling water across his forehead, attempting to soothe his skin and make the red disappear. It was near the end of winter, right before he left for graduate school. He couldn’t remember if it was before or after he decided to leave. It had to be the same month, they had only known each other for a season. Still, it seemed too close together. All of it felt jumbled together, like one long endless movie.

“God, are we really going to do this?” Kaleb took a deep breath in and out. “This is just like Oscar, always ten minutes late.” He put his phone down on the table and leaned against the railing. “We might as well, we’re already in it.”

“You don’t have to continue, we can just ignore it—” Luis said but Kaleb waved him away and continued anyway.

He had this way of reeling you into whatever he was doing. When they fought it felt less like opposing sides and more like joint counsel: each working together to piece together some grand argument. He would be logical but also empathetic. He agreed with fair criticisms of him and quickly lobbed the others away. Luis had learned early on to say as little as possible. Words had meaning and the wrong one voiced at a crucial moment could break things apart. He said very little. Responded carefully. Kaleb grew up around talkers, people who filled the pleasant silence with an endless barrage of questions and jokes. He never liked to be idle or steady. He told Luis once that when he was young he never got punished. Instead, his parents would erupt in anger at whatever he had done. He would feel bad, stewing in his room alone until it got too uncomfortable and he went back for some form of resolution. Together, they would spend hours rehashing the argument, turning it over, and inspecting all the sides and angles and clauses and deviations. Luis felt himself being reeled in. Though had made the first statement. It was innocuous though, nothing telling. The framing could be cliche, he could see that, he wasn’t an idiot. But Kaleb didn’t know, couldn’t really know, what he was going to say. And yet he seemed so certain. Not eager, almost disappointed. That word felt thick and bitter on his tongue. What was there to be disappointed by? Perhaps the gravity of it all? Or no, the convention? The cliche? Anger was boiling inside of Luis. He found himself here again, a place he left on purpose. How had that happened? What pattern weaved him here? ”I misspoke, I think I said something about loving you but it came out all shakey and wrong. You heard something else—””I don’t remember that.” Luis said. “I don’t remember hearing something wrong.””Yeah, well. I tried to correct it. But you were angry, and I might have said that anyway and I didn’t want to like gaslight you. So I just took it, because what mattered was what you heard or what you felt not what I meant to say. Anyway…you cried and then I cried, and we spent the whole night sobbing.””And then I left.” Luis said.“Yeah, and then you left.”

Luis could see the morning clearly now. It was early December, 40 degrees and sunny. They woke up early but stayed in bed. They kissed and hugged. They had sex and lay next to each other naked and laughing. He made Kaleb hot coffee: two sugars with a splash of half and half. The light was filtering into the living room just right, coating both of them in a soft white. Kaleb asked him if he could come back sometime. Luis nodded, and told him how he was always welcome here. Then, they kissed goodbye. Kaleb left and Luis took a long hot shower. He packed in a hurry, throwing clothes into a too-small bag. Still wet, he got in his car and drove through Texas back home to Colorado. He wondered if he had ever really meant it when he told Kaleb he could come back. Now he was certain: by then he had made up his mind to leave. There was no continuing. What the two of them had was just a fling: something small they both got too caught up in. Still, why would he lie? Maybe it was just something you said to someone in the moment. A quiet word of kindness offered near the end.

“Somehow I knew I’d never see you again,” Kaleb said.

He remembered taking in the morning light, trying hard to keep some image of Kaleb stuck in his head. Kaleb was in the kitchen, an oversized sweater hanging down across his body, pouring coffee and humming something quietly to himself. To Luis, Kaleb looked like a ghost, or something supernatural: translucent, maybe see-through—whatever you want to call it. He was already gone by then.

“And I was right,” Kaleb said. “I never heard from you again. A text message here or there a few likes on social media. You were a ghost to me,” he said. “But that was forever ago, we were honestly still just kids.”