I remember listening to this song, running the sunny early fall streets of the lower east side, and truly believing that he loved me back, more than that, he was in love with me too. I felt so happy I thought my heart might break. He does love me, he has to love me! The sun dappling the sidewalk through the bright leaves of the trees in the crappy little park by the East River told me it was true, the oxygen pumping through my lean and muscular thighs told me it was true, the cartoon clouds in the blazing blue sky told me it was true, and I was ready to be his if he would have me. Of course, it didn’t end up the way I thought it would. How is it that some songs that we listen to can have such a profound effect on us? Can make us believe that someone loves us in the way we want them to love us, or, in the case of Elliot Smith, can make us unsure of whether we actually want to be alive at all.
I know everyone says this, but music has always been incredibly important to me. More than writing, painting, taking a walk, binging on carbs and sugar, chain smoking, cutting my skin, drinking until I’m blacked out, overdosing on morphine…music can affect my mood and bring me up no matter how down I am. I need to remember this when I am feeling really down.
Last night the boy told me that he could feel my sadness from a mile away. That made me stop and think. I don’t want to be a harbinger of doom and gloom in the world; I don’t want to spread despondency and hopelessness wherever I go. Today I decided to have a good day. I read somewhere on the internet that repeating “I am a bearer of good” can improve your thinking, and since thoughts are things and action springs from thoughts that is something worth improving! So I repeated that simple phrase as I rode my bike downtown to work and I think it really did work. People were friendlier today, strangers were saying hello and talking to me about everything, I got a free cup of coffee at Pret Manger and realized that coffee is also magic happy juice and that I should drink that to cure bouts of suicidal tendencies. I also wrote a haiku about living in the ghetto, entitled
losing lottery tickets
and piss in the snow.
Ha! The important thing is I am feeling a lot better and have some new plans and ideas for the future.