All my dreams I carry with me,
in a bag of broken glass.
It’s not the parts of busted hope,
it’s the memories of the past.
Make the good things last. | Noah Gundersen
To light it up again burn like a holy fire
Light me up again if it makes you feel free
Light me up again call me a snake and a liar
And I will be the fire that keeps you warm
Noah Gundersen | Slow Dancer
It’s wicked cold in Boston [still] but Noah Gundersen is a good soundtrack no matter the weather.
If you need some acoustic guitar, fiddle, and beautiful harmonies this lovely bluegrass duo is the soundtrack for today. If you close your eyes, you can almost smell the sunshine on fresh grass and taste the sweet iced tea. There’s finally some sunshine in Boston and while the majority of this week has been spent pining for the south, it’s a beautiful day.
We’ve broken a city record for snowfall in the past week and it’s beautiful and surreal and sometimes it’s nice to get hit with the unexpected and be forced to roll with it because that’s really all you can do. When everything feels like it’s out of my control, it’s nice to remember that it is–and that it doesn’t have to be terrifying. Plus, Explosions in the Sky reminds me of Friday Night Lights which reminds me of Texas which reminds me of Home and that’s all the pick-me up I really need.
It may seem like I haven’t been writing–but I have, just not here other than a few appearances for Friday Fictioneers and Write Club Fight Club (if you’re unfamiliar with these, please check them out!). As I near the halfway point of my graduate school program, the looming prospect of coming up with a thesis is starting to feel real. I have a novel that’s been in the works for a year and a half that I’d really like to use as my thesis, and all my writing energy (when I have it) is there. I have the luxury of a captive audience in my classmates and assigned workshops, but I don’t know if this manuscript would have ever had the potential it does without critique.
Writers talk a lot about discipline–and it’s important, crucial to creating and finishing good work. But, I think we also tend to beat ourselves up when we’re not writing–when the words are elusive and life happens. Sometimes, rather than tormenting ourselves for missed word counts or scrapped drafts, we just need to let go and live.
I’ve gone to three concerts in the past two weeks–two for bands I’ve seen before, and one for a brand new band–and it never ceases to amaze me how music just makes everything fall away. I saw Bear’s Den last night and several of their songs are the kind that make you inhale involuntarily, because you forgot to breathe, because you forgot that your body existed, that there was anything other than the music and the stage lights.
“I remember holding on
To every prayer I said at dawn
Like, get me home, I promise I’ll never leave”
Before you think I’m channelling Baudelaire, never fear–although, there’s plenty to be said for him and his poetry! I’ve noticed there’s several new faces in my follower column and, as I’ve been sadly MIA from this space, I wanted to thank all of you (new followers and old) for reading and following and generally making this writing thing feel less like shouting into the void. If you’re new, I’d love to get to know you. If you’ve been following along for a while, mea culpa–I haven’t forgotten you or this blog, thanks for staying with it.
Lastly, because the only words I seem to have to spare these days are the words of others, here’s a little rock n’ roll from some Texas boys to spice up your Thursday.