Seven Songs Playlist: November 2016

chapter eleven.

Upon reading too many Medium.com articles:

_____

Picture this.

It is late. Or maybe it is early. Either way: it is the fringe of something, and you are tired.

You are almost at a point where you think maybe you don't have any words left.

Or maybe you have them, but they are tucked neatly in your pocket, gated sweetly in the dark by a simple fence that towers, quietly menacing, overhead. So your words do not slip from the place they are being kept, of course.

You know that if they become untucked, spoken into actualization, then they—or, more severely, the emotions they manifest—will become real. They will have some sort of authority over how you are supposed to move and groove through the world. You are already reigned by too many things that are not your own heart, you know. Now is not the time to scribble another half-hearted duty on the list.

You sigh, and click. Maybe somebody else with the same aches will have written the words down for you. Or something.

And then:

This is familiar. Another story about being true to Yourself™. Someone's quiet grumble about their Biggest Regret™, and what you can do to avoid it. A promise of Happiness™, which you find appealing.

Live wildly, the article tells you. Be broke for a while, it says. Go vegan. Wait for the right thing to come along, but also: create your own opportunities. Reclaim the practice of having imaginary friends. Go to therapy. Don't be lazy.

The article advises you to break up with your fear of passion, and while you're at it, break up with your boyfriend.

But a fear of passion has never been your ailment. You have always been hurricanes and double-texts and shin splints. You have forever come quickly, and acted swiftly, and disappeared in a flash. You are a vocal advocate of ripping the bandage off. You are drawn to the phrase "one fell swoop." You have a habit of harvesting fruit before it is ripe.

You are not quiet.

What you are is: afraid that tomorrow will not be as bright, or as promising, or as full of potential as today is proving itself to be. Or maybe you are afraid that tomorrow will not be, period. After all, you can rub Today™ between your fingers, like the silk you thumbed in that shop on that trip you took. Today is proven. And proof, even of the grimmest things, is comforting.

The article instructs you to sprint.

Just do it, it taunts. Ignite yourself.

But you have been doing that for so long. You know the face of that lifestyle; you know its lilt and grimace. And knowing these things, you are sure it is not romantic.

You are not romantic. You do not shy away from passion, no, but Passion™ is easy to dwell in. Passion leaves quickly and closes the door behind it. Maybe it is invigorating. Maybe even wild. But when the sun sets, you know that passion demands no re-alignment of your spine or re-assessment of your morals.

Even when it brings pain, passion promises quickness, and so you are not afraid of it.

What you are afraid of is the slow burn.

Examine yourself.

Every year, you vow that this will be The Year™. This year, you say, will be the year you finally run the marathon. And for a week or several, your regularly encourage your feet to kiss the pavement. Your feet and the pavement, they become acquainted. Accustomed. A quirky almost-friendship develops. Your lungs familiarize themselves with the stiffness of morning air.

But then, fatefully, a day wanders along in which you drag your eyelids open and set their focus upon the running shoes positioned neatly by the front door only to realize: You have taken every route in your neighborhood. You have listened to every song on your playlist.

There is nothing new here, you think. No more obvious beauties to easily stumble upon.

It's just that it's gotten too comfortable, you tell your friends. Or maybe you use the word monotonous in an attempt to draw attention away from the lingering implication that probably you are, in fact, just lazy.

Either way, what you actually mean is not: there is nothing more to discover here. Really, you mean: everything left to discover here requires effort. It requires going deep instead of going far.

And you are a sprinter. Passion™ is not the problem. It's Dedication™ that snarls.

You have still never run the marathon.

_____

And now: some November songs for buckling down; for digging in your heels; for pushing forward and finding the groove and Just Doing It™...

1. Waking Up | Mr Little Jeans

ABC

2. For Them | Emily King

The Maroon Cafe

3. Family and Genus | Shakey Graves

Shakey Graves

4. Someone That Loves You | HONNE, Izzy Bizu

EB Festival Cologne 2016

5. Answer | Phantogram

NEUS

6. Welcome Home, Son | Radical Face

Music Existence

7. I'm In Love | Kygo, James Vincent McMorrow

Your EDM

Follow this playlist on Spotify here.