so down
i wrote "so down" only 4 days before "hang on"
what a week i must've had...
"we squander all the lucky years
to draw them in a bath of tears we cry for ourselves
because this world hasn’t given us what we want" what a week i must've had...
"we squander all the lucky years
to draw them in a bath of tears we cry for ourselves
no small irony that on the day of this post
i find myself in the throes
of a deep crushing depression
i don't understand it
i don't know where it came from
i was riding high for weeks
but it's here now and i feel crippled inside
maybe i should listen to this song?
my own message to not take this world
or the people i love in it for granted
and i feel like i have no control over it
this song is powerless to change the way i feel today
none of them or their messages matter to me right now
i started playing "so down" at acoustic shows right after i wrote it
i was excited
i felt like it was an important one
my friend anju heard it maybe 2 or 3 times
she told me she loved it
that its message immediately impacted her
she related to it
she told me she wanted to talk to me more about the song sometime
we never got the chance
anju ended up taking her own life in april of 2006
only 2 months after i'd started recording
snowing in my heart
she never got to hear my recording of this song
or any others
i wish she'd had...i wished she lived and we could've spent
more time together
she was a wonderful soul
this was the first song i started tracking
in february '06
i would end up working exactly one year on the record
the longest i've ever worked on anything
i wish i could heed my own words today...
"get out, get up, shut up
it's a beatiful day"
posted by salim nourallah at 1:26 PM
3 Comments:
i know the feeling.
"we squander all the lucky years
to draw them in a bath of tears we cry for ourselves
because this world hasn’t given us what we want"
I've wanted so little. Normalcy, for me and my kids. Never got it.
l,
r
I had a free moment yesterday after playing a gig at the DMA. While driving home I was at Ross and Routh, and on a whim turned towards her old place. I parked on the street, noticing the huge house that filled the vacant lot that was there the last time I'd been by. (2005, it must have been) And, also on a whim, I got out and walked up to the door.
A piece of the step was chipped off, practically detached. It was obvious no one lived there. The blinds were closed behind the sliding glass doors, but I could just see the chair in front of them: same chair, same cushion, same everything from years before. So I walked around the other side of the building to look. I'm tall enough that I could see over the back porch wall: same lawn furniture, same toile curtains.
Why did I look? Maybe I wanted to see life there, someone enjoying the home she loved so much. But all I saw was her family's pain, preserved in amber.
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