Monday, September 24, 2012

Without Melody

Sometimes the need to sing rises so strong it is no wonder I did not know it was coming; it is the rise of continents, or the movement of stars.

The Hallmark, overly romantacised philosophies that wend through our daily lives as over-processed stock photos with heartfelt yet simplistic captions to do with life love happiness would chastise me for suppressing this urge.

This is not a Hallmark card, and no idealised quote will protect you from the world. Joy, be it carefully constructed or the beast the blindsides you, is precious, yes, and fragile. Indulge it where you will, but be aware that some environs nurture and others will wither it.

An Irish pub on a Monday night, the footy broadcast by Sky on three screens, low lights and glottal Glaswegian accents to my right. I'll keep the song in my ribs, not even let it near my throat. Hold it gentle but firm, like a bird, and, like a bird, it will calm, quiet, and stay with you.

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