Mockingbirds

The cold snap dictates Mark Lanegan’s The Winding Sheet. Even though the CD was given to us by someone who is gone from this world, and I can’t listen to it without that in the back of my mind.

I do like them big, dark and brooding. The recent work on the freaking Starbucks-ubiquitous In the Wild soundtrack almost makes Eddie Vedder bearable, but in the end, Mark’s always going to be the one for me.

I’m beginning to think I’m not in the Underworld, but under water. The glitter is dimmed, and I’ve learned quick gestures and fast breaks don’t work. Nothing I’m good at is of use here, yet. I’m a little afraid that one wave of my arm will set up a ripple that will engulf an island far away. Overestimation or wishful thinking?

My daughter now declares that her favorite food is pomegranate. We will share one tonight.

Let’s listen to Mark sing, now.

"Your voice is a mockingbird
Calling me when the day is gone
You please yourself with every word
Telling me where I'm going wrong
Telling me where I've gone wrong

Get me out it's starting to burn
I can't let go for the life of me
Some hold tight, and some turn
Another fire out in front of me
My whole life out in front of me

You can't kill what's already dead
But I don't blame you for trying it
The sun comes up and falls away
Two little birds makin' sense of it
Two mockingbirds making sense of it."