tie yourself to me

rid of me ~ pj harvey

"yeah, you're not rid of me
yeah, you're not rid of me
i'll make you lick my injuries
i'm gonna twist your head off, see

till you say don't you wish you never never met her."

this has always been one of those songs that cause me to let my eyes flutter shut, and my imagination travel into unknown realms of storytelling. the song plays at being muse to my writing, and i see a plot unfold within the steady bassline, the sensual, albeit slightly disturbing lyrics, and the building rhythm and melody that just takes you over. it feels like seduction, like desperation, like raw wanting.

kate schatz felt the same way, and i cannot recommend the result enough, in 33 1/3: pj harvey: ride of me. here is her description:

There’s a thing that happens:

You love an album. You get into it—listening over and over, taking in every sound, beat, shift, and phrase. You sing along, memorize the silence between each song. You absorb it, you feel it.

And it gets into you.

A great album tells a story, whether explicit and linear or subtle and discrete. And when you love that album, when it’s gotten inside and you know the characters, landscapes, lyrics, and rhythms, there’s another thing that happens: it becomes yours. You own it, you have a relationship with it. You know each other. It’s your music, they’re your stories—you become free to put meaning here, add interpretation there, decide exactly what it’s all about, then change your mind with each listen. It’s mutual and consensual and very, very private.

And then sometimes you make it public. The album’s narrative begets new narratives and you want to share that somehow, let these expanded possibilities be known. A declaration of adoration, a kind of self-serving homage. Maybe it takes the form of a cover song, freely or closely interpreted. Or the written word: a critical essay, a trenchant article, a dissertation.
But you’re not a musician or a critic—you’re a fiction writer who loves music, who loves stories. The potential within each song, each lyric. And there’s one album that stands out, that you can’t shake, that you find as fascinating now as you did when it came out, in 1993, and you were a swoony day-dreamy teenager mesmerized by the music’s anger, its beauty, its dark and twisted humor. Raw guitars, crashing drums, love-wrecked lyrics telling stories of betrayal, revenge, isolation, sex. The seduction, the violence, those moans and howls. That voice. It was a whole other world.

You love what PJ Harvey’s Rid of Me did then, what it still does, what it can do. So you embark on an experiment. You reenter it, once again listening over and over, sometimes just one song on repeat for hours. You get into it and it gets right back into you. Characters, lyrics, and landscapes. Moods and tones and those feelings. You begin writing. With each song, to each song, from each song. Around and near and under and then, at some point, it takes a shape. Characters emerge. These two women. These woods. Chapters like songs, book like an album. It becomes a new story, years of listening spiraled out into new words and meanings.

This is the book. It’s not about Rid of Me—it’s because of it.

thank you, jenn, for sending it to me.

i get the strangest feeling you belong

warm me up & breathe me: an edward and bella mix

why does it always rain on me ~ travis

"i cant sleep tonight."

you're all i have ~ snow patrol

"there is a darkness deep in you,

a frightening magic i cling to."

losing my religion ~ nina persson

"every whisper,
of every waking hour,
i'm choosing my confessions."

here with me ~ dido

"i didn't hear you leave,
i wonder how am i still here.
and i don't want to move a thing,
it might change my memory."

creep ~ radiohead

"you're just like an angel,

your skin makes me cry."

into dust ~ mazzy star

"i could possibly be fading,

or have something more to gain;

i could feel myself growing colder,

i could feel myself under your fate."

but not tonight ~ depeche mode

"and i haven't felt so alive in years."

shake the disease ~ hooverphonic

"here is a plea,
from my heart to you,
nobody knows me as well as you do.
you know how hard it is for me,
to shake the disease,
that takes hold of my tongue in situations like these.
understand me."

roads ~ portishead

"regardless of what they say."

hide & seek ~ imogen heap

"spin me round again,
and rub my eyes;
this can't be happening."

clocks ~ coldplay

"confusion never stops,
closing walls and ticking clocks;
gonna, come back and take you home,
i could not stop that you now know."

breathe ~ sia

"warm me up,
and breathe me."

love will tear us apart ~ honeyroot

"do you cry out in your sleep,
all my failings expose?
get a taste in my mouth,
as desperation takes hold.
is it something so good,
just cant function no more?"

delicate ~ damien rice

"we might live like never before."

the engine driver ~ the decemberists

"i am tortured,

ever tortured."

what if you ~ joshua radin

"so, for tonight,
i'll stay here with you."

honey & the moon ~ joseph arthur

"if you weren't real i would make you up."

lovesong ~ the cure

"whenever i'm alone with you,

you make me feel like i am young again."

i will follow you into the dark ~ death cab for cutie

"i'll follow you into the dark."

claire de lune ~ claude debussy

zipped

dreams gave me away

"if i could dream at all, it would be about you, and i'm not ashamed of it."

twilight ~ edward cullen

welcome june

breck road lover ~ the libertines

"we walk the streets where she gets her name."

* max turned four this weekend and today we celebrated it at the park. i played in the sand with toys kate brought as part of his gift, and was later gifted myself with flower necklaces and crowns she made that brought back a lovely memory. unfortunately, my pale skin did not take to all that sitting in the sun too well and i am badly burned, and a bit sick feeling from it. but, max had a blast. watching him with multi-colors of frosting on his face, laughing so hard that he nearly fell over, playing with his new trains, and running around with a real sense of glee on his face made me immeasurably happy. my best friend, family and all of our children, so much bliss that brings to me. all in all, it was a beautiful afternoon.

* it is after ten at night and i want a cup of coffee desperately. yeah. sunday night and a desire like that? we all have our self-destructive tendencies, i suppose. tonight i will not partake in it, though, as i have enough struggles lately sleeping at all.

* i hate when i realize that even though i'm almost 40 years old, and have a pretty decent amount of accomplishments i'm proud of, i still end up feeling not good enough so much of the time. i wish i knew a way to believe in myself more, and to hang on to the good things said instead of internalizing so much of the criticisms and negative words. suppose this goes back to something i was musing on a few days ago, at why it is so hard to just be nice, to say kind words, to not cut each other (and ourselves) down so much. is it because we all are walking around this world feeling less than, too? so, we lash out at each other, or at ourselves, just to either feel better, or not so alone in that level of insecurity? i don't know. maybe this comes from spending a significant part of my day with my mother who seems to have mastered the art of criticism, so much so that my brother and i have learned to be self-deprecating and mocking to such a degree we have a hard time speaking aloud genuinely good feelings. or perhaps it is just that i allow myself to take that kind of thing, over and over again. either way, i would honestly rather be nice, and treated that way, too. love how you want to be loved.

* i was listening to one of the alphabet mixes i used to make this morning while cleaning the kitchen. i miss making those, as well as recently missing the music theme posts i used to write. who knows, maybe one of these days they will make a comeback.

* a trip to the temporary library took place yesterday (our main one is being rebuilt). max is starting to take an interest in books, inspired by his starting school, i believe. he is the first child i've ever had who did not embrace reading from the start, so it was especially happy-making for me to see him getting excited about books. he chose three thomas the train books, his current obsession, and even had the children's librarian helping him locate them. reading them with him last night, and learning morea about the thomas plot and back stories, i am realizing that the island of sodor is quite the land of drama. seriously, those trains just look harmless with their google-eyes and smiles, they are really a intricate web of intrigue, rivalry, and struggles. who knew.

* tomorrow is monday, i am so not ready for that reality yet. maybe that is why i want the coffee.