Jeff Buckley's music makes me want to write long, self-reflective posts about love and loss. It makes me want to rip off every scab and old scar and bleed out just a little bit, just to be able to feel it all over again, just to be able to say, "Yeah, man, I totally get what you're saying, because I'm going through it too." But I'm not going through it too. I haven't gone through anything like that for a good long time. What I have is the pretension of feeling.
And now he's singing to his lover who should've come over, and I'm sad because I'm not sad.
The worst thing about fear? It keeps you from the good pain. The pain that you can actually heat up and hammer into shape and use to make something that's worth something. All fear motivates you to do is be safe, and safety doesn't give you anything you can use. Safety is dry and brittle and turns to dust the moment you try to use it to create.
So rather than write you a weepy retrospective or something self-flagellating and vain, I'm gonna go home and choke down some cough medicine so's I can be a little less whiny and miserable for the rest of the evening.
See you, space cowboy.