Songs

This day has filled itself with writing before I could even stop it. And before I go on about it, I admit one hundred per cent to stealing music right out of my favorite t.v. show Grey's Anatomy. That music director, the one who soaks my dreamy Sunday night chick drama with spell-binding, breathy magic ballads mostly written and sung by artists of International intrigue, deserves every award that's handed out for that kind of job. The unfortunate thing about borrowing song lyrics as opener for an on line journal post is that I can't convey the playful guitar riff surrounding these sentiments which fit right there. But what's...please, so noteworthy about being a music lover my entire life, and please would every music lover everywhere just admit to this, all the songs that we play on repeat for certain stints in our lives lose that brilliant sheen at some point. I'm not speaking about the songs that stand the test of time--I mean these heartsick Rilo Kiley ones, the chic Modest Mouse ones, the enchanting Tegan and Sara ones that at some point will only hang around in our music mixes collecting dust...not that they weren't once so completely fabulous and perfect for the moment, for instance the moment Meredith Grey finds out Dr. Shepard plans to stay with his wife and this unwittingly haunting song by Emiliana Torrini floods the background (possibly my mistake, but I believe that's where that song appeared while Meredith was looking around with so much fresh sober pain). Anyway, it's not that I won't always love these little lovers I've found (or, someone else has found and I've captured!)...and while I keep them close to me now while I try to write things, and while I look out windows just thinking, there will come a day later where I sit debating a music mix (I vow to never outgrow music mixes) and skip over the precious Tegan and Sara gem of a song I once thought would never play enough times on a normal night where I sat plain contemplating. I guess I'm not saying exactly what I want on this, but for sure, for this moment, I am made warm inside by these lovely longing love songs. And I owe a lot of thanks to that Grey's Anatomy soundtrack dj.*So today was a plentiful release of my imagination, kind of all over the place. I come to the computer from lying on the bed with the iPod on, like being a teenager with a Walkman, browsing a more recent physical journal for help with today, and this whole month (today is the beginning of National Novel Writing Month and I simply refuse to let my inability to download its icon to this web page disturb me). I discovered a few notes that were so-so, for instance the quote from my fiction instructor from this past spring who said, "Everybody's up to stuff." Sounds really uninspiring but it's true, and she meant each word very deliberately when she said so. Paying attention to what "stuff" people are up to is what conjures a good story, small, but significant. I don't want to go on about either of my new characters but they're both women, sisters, and most of their lives have yet to be determined. As of this afternoon I managed to wade through approximately 1,600 words of utter waste, but it's what this month's about for me: getting a lot of the junk out. I want to do this just to see myself follow through with something so grand as reaching 50K words. After today I felt all breezy and calm, but then facing the screen on Craig's computer tonight while he busied himself with an epic Orlando Bloom period piece and other stuff, the doom washed right in. I sat here with what must have looked to be a giant cartoon question mark poking out of the top of my head. Hence, the sprawl across the bed with the journal, the hasty new entry there in that very random book, the distracted fascination with fleetingly ingenius love ballads and now, approaching 11, I think I'll just go to sleep. But I'm only pushing day 1 under my pillow. 29 to go.