i can't hear thom

this is a rarity:

i can't play radiohead right now. three shows in a week and a half and i'm raw. not saturated, just too close. and yet not close enough. the last one in santa barbara was an adventure from start to finish. made it into the after party. really. the band was there. i even had an opening to say my one sentence to thom yorke, but i let him and the opportunity walk right past. i see how i am getting better and better at stepping forward, speaking my truth clearly and asking for the things i want, but i still can't do this for those few things i want above all others. the ones where the stakes are high and i have a lot invested. i am still standing back on the sidelines where it's safe. of course the irony is that the times when i have stepped up and forward, i've always gotten what i've asked for and the success is accompanied by a wonderful sense of ease and flow.

i hope it's not presumptuous of me to say it here, but i find that the song rolling around in my head is one written for me by the dearest of the dears. it names this space of fearful/frozen safety. though the event below was slightly different, i've ended up with a similar feeling of something slipping between my fingers.

i can't wait till this song is recorded. the melody is so beautifully haunting.



parking lot - eden smith

sitting in this parking lot,
keys in hand, something's lost,
staring out into the street
wondering what supposed to happen to me (now)

cuz i've got a lot on my mind
i've got a lot on my mind
i've got too much on my mind these days so i'll just stay put for now.

too scared to look beyond the steering wheel,
the sun is gone
back to where i started from
ten long hours ago i wrote this song.

oh my love,
i'm caught in this picture
flash of a moment
my my love
can't see any further
see any further
i don't want to move.

cuz i've got a lot on my mind
i've got a lot on my mind
i've got too much on my mind these days so i'll just stay put for now.


currently listening to: for emma, forever ago - bon iver