Everyday Sounds
This weekend was very rejuvenating and lovely. Friday my friends and I went out to a Polish club to party to some of our dubber dj mates. It was a fantastic evening. The next morning, bf and I shuffled out of bed and into the car to go see my family in the suburbs. I haven't seen them since Christmas and they live 46.5 miles away. Pathetic on my part. I'm aware.
Driving to the expressway down Division St. is an interesting experience. You go from Lake Michigan to Yuppie/Old Money to Irish Pub Central with the Posers to Pita/Pizza/Kebab take-aways to Blue Light Districts of America's version of Council Flats to Massive Amounts of Concrete with millions of cars aka The Kennedy Expressway.
Just before turning onto the Kennedy, bf and I stop at a red light for a few moments. I turn to my right and see out the window a bike chained up to a railing before a concrete wall. The bike is rusting and fake flowers are tied around the seat. Attached to the bike is a sign that reads: "[Girl's Name] 6.3.73 - 6.3.05. She heard everyday sounds in music."
I pointed it out to bf who was quiet a minute before stating, "That's intense." Perhaps it was due to my fragile hungover state but this really choked me up. My eyes welled up a bit and my nose got a little sniffly. I would've popped a tear or two out if I could make them. "She heard everyday sounds in music." That's beautiful. Beautiful.
But so young to die and in such a crap way. On her birthday. Made me really feel for her and her family.
I suppose it was this incident that stuck in my mind for the rest of the weekend. Makes me appreciate the people who love me even more. It was lovely being home and seeing the folks. Hanging out on the lake, smelling the blooming flowers, and walking the dog. I hope I hear everyday sounds in music for many years to come.
posted by Kathryn @ 8:52 PM
5 Comments:
This is the thing - we're fleeting. Hug your friends. Let 'em know you appreciate them. Our stay here is shorter than we think. Hug. Smile. Make laughter. Do it while you can.
That shrine was a sad, otherworldly thing, and I agree, it was a highlight of the weekend, so to speak. I made us listen to "Distant Lights" by Burial shortly thereafter and I think that I finally figured it out (thank God for fragile hungover states). For me the only place where such decayed, apocalyptic beauty is in abundance is when you are wandering the Burning Man playa at 3am, haunted by time travelers from the future (or are they spirits of those who will die in some irradiated, barren desert of tomorrow?). And also in archaic dream tunnels lit by dirty fluorescent lights, unambiguous archways to the Underworld. The Unconscious and the dead share a language, and speak in poignant symbols.
I agree, Quick. I'm doing my best to be happy and healthy in life at the moment with my loved ones. I hug 'em as much as I can. Except the ones who don't like hugs.
Graham- The Unconscious and the dead share a language, and speak in poignant symbols.
I like that.
We all need a sort of reality shake up now and again. It's a shame the prod had (and often does) come from something so unpleasant.
But if the prod were pleasant, I fear I'd keep prodding myself every moment I could. It'd be like a back scratcher and the bf would have to put up with my demanding antics. "Prod me now!"
Oh, wait. This is a different sort of prod I am talking about.
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