Addicted to this song and especially this cover. Cannot get enough of Clea’s vocals.
Things fall apart. Nothing nothing nothing gon’ save me now…
Today is not a song. Today is 100 songs. Three of my favourite songs for 2018 were in the top 10. Five of my favourites didn’t make the list at all. But here they are, with number one up first.
Many Mondays have passed without music. As have all the Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. There is little solace and much grief. I’m trapped inside a free-falling elevator plummeting to the bottom of the shaft and I don’t know when it is going to stop.
The heat of the day has been swept away by the storm. Light rain is spattering on the roof. And I am going to bed, again, to not sleep.
Until I’m six feet under
Baby I don’t need a bed
Gonna live while I’m alive
I’ll sleep when I’m dead
‘Til they roll me over
And lay my bones to rest
Gonna live while I’m alive
I’ll sleep when I’m dead
I used to be proud of how little I slept.
“Only three hours?” others would stare and squint at me suspiciously. But it was amazing — I had so many more hours in the day than “normal people”.
Developing healthy sleep habits was a large part of my treatment; building a routine, sleeping even when I didn’t want to, shifting my thoughts about what needing sleep meant (turns out, it doesn’t make you weak). Now I’m regularly able to sleep for five to six hours — which may not seem like much but is double what I was getting several years ago.
Recently, I’ve moved to permanent shift work involving a pattern of night shifts and I’m in the process of converting my sleep rhythms so that I sleep during the day. I’ve always slept better during the day than at night…except when I am woken up.
When I left Queensland a few years ago, I sold the piano I’d had since I was 10.
There is a swelling storm
And I’m caught up in the middle of it all
And it takes control
Of the person that I thought I was
Music had been one of the keys to my recovery — my piano, instrumental to the re-connection with my heart.
Memories, of a stolen place
Caught in the silence
An echo lost in space
A couple of years ago, my partner bought me a piano for my birthday.
Moments of magic and wonder
It seems so hard to find
It is the best present I’ve ever been given and is much more than 88 keys in a wooden box. Right now, I’m learning to play this.
Three and a half years ago, the door to my heart clicked open.
There is freedom within, there is freedom without
Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup
There’s a battle ahead, many battles are lost
But you’ll never see the end of the road
While you’re traveling with me
When the world comes in
They come, they come
To build a wall between us
We know they won’t win
I didn’t know love could be this free and this secure at the same time.
Discussing the track, Gang of Youths frontman Dave Le’aupepe says:
“This song came about after I struggled with writer’s block for a year, barely managing to etch out more than a single verse of something awful the whole time. I was walking home across the Brooklyn Bridge one night, questioning my place in the world, contemplating giving up music and doing something more substantial. I sort of felt that I wasn’t doing anything that actually mattered. But I looked out at the skyline, all silvery and strange and in typical self-indulged frontman fashion, I began to revel in this moment of abandon, of self-hate. As a result, I think I stumbled across a kind life-affirming axiom; that in a cosmos potentially absent of meaning, and an existence devoid of objective value, I have an opportunity to invent my own meaning. We all do. We can ascribe meaning and value to our own lives and in a way, attribute great esteem and value to each other as a result.
All of us as adults, from youth to old age are drunk, stumbling around in the dark looking for a kebab. I’m scared and unsure, and I want to acknowledge this rather than repress it, or allow cynics to denigrate me because of it. So the song is about becoming more human, more aware and I guess in a way, more alive.”
It’s been just over twelve months since I posted last.
I haven’t been struggling with writer’s block but a change of jobs and new work commitments have eclipsed the time freed up by not travelling for two weeks out of every month. Those spare hours have been filled with study for my new role. As of the end of this week, however, my training period is complete. I’ve passed all the exams and start on shift next Monday. This will give me ample time to ponder over the meaning — or lack thereof — of life.
“Cause not everything means something, honey
So say the unsayable, say the most human of things
And if everything is temporary
I will bear the unbearable, terrible triteness of being.”
Bonus: the video has power lines 🙂
Three and a half minutes of chilled out bliss!
Content warning: This post contains discussion of sexual assault and rape culture.
That’s how Republican presidential nominee, Donald Trump, describes his lewd conversation eleven years ago with Billy Bush. In this conversation he brags, in vulgar and de-humanising terms, about kissing and groping women without their consent.
Let’s be clear.
Kissing and groping women without their consent is sexual assault.
Bragging about kissing and groping women without their consent is bragging about sexual assault. Continue reading