Mysterious Egg

My favorite love song in the whole world (apart from the skeletons in my closeted heart: Led Zeppelin’s I’m Gonna Crawl and Since I’ve Been Loving You, Garth Brooks’ Shameless, Depeche Mode’s Enjoy the Silence, Jeff Buckley’s Lilac Wine…OK I’ll stop now ok one more Leonard Cohen’s Take this Waltz) has for thousands of year been Tim Buckley’s Song to the Siren.

Now, I’m sure, dear reader, that you can see a pattern here. These are all loser songs.

One half of them imply that my beloved is going to feel a shiver up his spine as the air resonates with the telepathic call of my heart, move mountains out of his way with a flick of his finger, run through a few oceans in slow motion and find me, pull me close and hold me in his strong arms, and smile happily into my eyes because love and fresh air is all we’re ever going to need.

The other half of the songs hold the unbearably beautiful weight of poignant loss, separation, and yearning. Where the thought of a love lost is more pleasurable than the actual love could ever have been. A vivid world of sweeping emotion inhabited by two life-like beings, the constructs of a heart caged safely within a mind, waltzing and wandering thorough its vast spaces, ephemeral spikes and dips in a stream, glinting ferociously and blankly in a fog-hazed sunlight, endlessly.

Anyway. My favorite love song du jour is Iggy Pop’s Les Fueilles Mortes. The pattern continues.

So it’s really no wonder, with these gems internalized within me, that all the manifesting in the world (and let’s not even talk about my shifts-based job) will not materialize my beloved, my guy, my love, my husband, my Lebensgefährte, the King of my heart, the recipient of a thousand authentic smiles and kisses, the one for whom I might actually learn how to cook a dish or two (now I’m not saying anything about sewing or ironing, let me be clear on this), that he won’t actually hear me calling out to him, because while love actually is all you need, you still have to believe what you want should come true can actually come true.

A chronic addiction to songs about the loss of love or the absence of love or the completely deranged wish that this as-yet-unknown-and-unmet person will just hear me, drop what he is doing, and get busy flicking mountains out of the way to come find me, completely cancels out any realistic chance that the words of my number one top secret favorite love song of all time will actually ever come true. If you counted how many times I used ‘actually’ in the post up to this point, you’re my guy. Let’s get married, post-haste and tout-suite.

Anyway, my top secret favorite love song of all time, my loyal blog readers, all 0 of you, the words of which will never come true, is…Firehouse’s Love of a Lifetime.

Cue song:

As a result of my various idiocies with regard to what I actually want, I will surely die alone.

Blanketed, of course, in swathes of poignancy.

I will breathe in deep the ozone released by an impending rainstorm and gaze out at the magical light that precedes darkened afternoon skies. I will smile with a joy that is firmly anchored in illusion and surrender and release everything that I am to it, as the skies burst open and cleanse all the was and all that is – and it won’t matter if something was a thought, a thing, or a person, a real or simulated feeling, a dream or an imagined memory – or the heaving pain and exquisiteness of an actual one.

My final breath will be steady with the certainty of perceiving that that which never was, now never shall be.

On the other hand, I’m already making plans as though my man already came and found me. For example, I’ve decided that when I know I’m going to die, I will set out to sea on a small raft like the Nordics and the Native Americans do, I will introduce my man to someone nice, so that he doesn’t have to be alone when I’m gone – without the slightest twinge of emotion or regret or jealousy. It’s all very cool and pragmatic.

Update: I’ve decided that Absolute Beginners is to be our song, since it’s been my #1 love song since since I was 12. Song to the Siren is darkly beautiful but it became my sad grown-up song.

So back to basics!

Some of the songs for reference, of course you can go to YouTube or your own iTunes for them:

Tim Buckley – Song to the Siren

Leonard Cohen – Take this Waltz

David Bowie – Absolute Beginners

Note: Deezer is free, but you may have to register an account to listen and go through an ad first.


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