I find it somewhat hard to believe, but I'm listening to Kate Bush, and I'm totally into it. Getting old kinda rocks; even if it means I mellow that does not guarantee that I soften. In fact, I've lost five pounds in the last month or so.
In case my last post was just too vague and ambiguous, I will expand. It was, indeed, a thought about love in general, though applied to my specific case. I was trying to spare you all the overwhelming mush of it all, but I've rethought it. I don't use this journal enough for my own personal thoughts anymore, or for much of anything. Reason behind what I said is that as nice as Becca and I can look together (the bright), there's this whole other level (the heat) that's passionate and intense, yes, but also invisible. Like anyone, we have faces we never show to anyone (apologies to William Joel), but we also have an 'us' that no one ever sees. It's kinda cool.
Later, I also tried to think of it in terms of an intellectual brightness, echoing Ayn Rand's idea that the more intelligent the person, the greater their capacity for passion, whether for something or someone, but then I decided that smelled too much like conceit.
I don't send out as many mix CDs as I initially promised myself I would, and should. I must remember to hook Tom up with some of the Wonder Stuff because I think he'd like them. Indeed, I think Becca would like this song very much. "Every time it rains, you're here in my head. Like the sun coming out; I just know that something good is gonna happen. I don't know when, but just saying it could even make it happen." We had a lovely weekend, including the part where we fell asleep together on the couch during the rainstorm. We awoke later when the thunder started, but didn't stir. The thunder was wonderful, beautiful, euphonic. It was just one of those moments that growing up are exactly your conception, not so much of love, but of togetherness. Hey, wow, this is life... and it's not so bad.
"Everytime it rains..."
I do love about this song the way it seems to endlessly crescendo. I don't know nearly enough about music (I know about artists and songs, but not the fundamental structure), but it eschews the normal chorus/verse/bridge structure of most songs. The continuous building is something I delight in, as in Jawbox's "Iodine"... but here it's done even better. On the most simple level, a song that's about the coming of rain should end before the rain comes. On a deeper level, a song about the potential should end before the actual; before the literal climax.
And so, I leave you.