Sunday, July 1, 2007

And again; Bright Eyes.

when learning to critique properly, one is advised not to use certain adjectives and verbs. great, good, love, awesome, and cool are amongst the many restricted words. this is only to suggest that a deeper, incontrovertible meaning might be communicated with a more intelligible, attentive approach.

five hours of storms, penetrating sun, showers, and perfect weather accompanied me on my journey home today.

amongst the weather, in content reflection, i wondered what music might not interfere with this untainted mood. iPod shuff brought me bright eyes. it was perfect. so i went in for a closer look.

and this is what i saw.

i am familiar with fevers and mirrors. it is, however, a great friend that i hadn't seen for a very long time. i forgot just how amazing it really is.

if i were to propose a list of songs that make me appreciate life as much as i appreciate the magnitude of the ocean, the calendar hung itself would inhabit the top twenty, at least. one can't help but quiver along with oberst's unsteady vocals and shake at the mere thought of feeling what he feels as he belts out "you are my sunshine". this track is obsessive, angry, and mournful. i do strongly believe that most people who have ever loved can also appreciate this pain; it is far too familiar and hard to let go of.

i've always defined true happiness as progressive thought. whenever i have felt the most depressed or uncertain, i would lean on the past in hopes of finding comfort. i dwell on the times in me life when i was happiest, and begin scheming on how to recreate bliss. whenever i am truly, unquestionably happy, the past stays in the past. history doesn't need to repeat itself because i'm too busy anticipating the future. lately i have felt anticipation and don't even find the time to dwell.

bright eyes encourages sorrow from the approach of a forward thinker.
you have a past. you have been hurt. your life will go on. look forward to it.
oberst's music plays that same role. each word builds from the next, remembering pain and agony, but looking ahead for for a new love that will promise to hurt again.