Only Lovers Left Alive makes Detroit seems like a magical urban wasteland of beautiful decay, which I know is not realistic, but kind of makes me want to move there nonetheless.
Also, cheap houses.
‘Cause people seem to only post the 20-something Audrey Hepburn.
Audrey Hepburn was the granddaughter of a baron, the daughter of a nazi sympathizer, spent her teens doing ballet to secretly raise money for the dutch resistance against the nazis, and spent her post-film career as a goodwill ambassador of UNICEF, winning the presidential medal of freedom for her efforts.
…and history remembers her as pretty.
For a very long time I thought Audrey Hepburn died young, in some tragic Hollywood accident or another, because the only photos that circulate are of her in her mid-20s.
On a warm, bright Sunday I put a dead, half-frozen goldfish in a origami boat made of clean, white watercolor paper. I picked a few sprigs of mint and my boyfriend laid a clover. We sprinkled bloodworms and one shrimp in the paper fold and sent him over the artificial falls in a municipal park.
It is closure not only to Mr. Fish and the gap he leaves in my daily life, but also to the past two weeks of disappointment, fear, loss, and apprehension. The days will look up from here.
My fish died today and I am upset beyond all reason.
I had that little fish for three years. He moved with me twice, he danced to my music, he made friends with a dinosaur, he had his own song, he played long distance chess with my boyfriend, he greeted me with blubs, he survived his fellow fish, he got fat and happy, he ate bloodworms and shrimps and peas…
Now I just have an empty tank. I might actually cry.
Jack White Lazaretto 12” Vinyl Ultra LP
As if I’m 15 again, when music was a big deal, as it is to most 15-year-olds, and I would finally get the new album (Life) from my favorite band (Our Lady Peace) and lie on the bed and listen to it the first time through, reading the CD insert hoping the lyrics were printed there because I needed to know the words perfectly, as I would be singing these songs to myself for the next six months or so.
That’s what I’m doing now. Right now. I am lying on my bed listening to the vinyl through, reading the lyrics off the insert, staring at the cover as if studying artwork. It’s rare now that music strikes that obsessive chord in me. (I should clarify - now that I am older; not that music has gotten worse. My favorite stuff at 15 was pretty bad, but it felt good.)
And this, this feels so good.
For my birthday my boyfriend READ MY MIND and bought me In Your Honor on vinyl WITHOUT MY ASKING and I am sitting here falling in love all over again.
With the album. Also with my boyfriend. (Mostly with the album.)
I’m 16 again! It’s summer! I will never not love these songs, not if I live to be 200.
Headline from The New York Times in 1919