Cat Power…then I’m soft

Cat Power. Something about that music, something about Chan Marshall – her voice, her words, her mannerisms – just gets me. I know but a fraction of all that is Cat Power, but it catches me and it catches in my throat, being something that I can’t wholly swallow. Seeping into me, it makes my chest ache with a thrill or nostalgia or loneliness or love for things nonspecific. Maybe I ache with all those at once. I listen to her voice singing, delicately rough, and it’s as if it’s trying to exfoliate me from the inside out. It isn’t an obvious scraping or scratching, but it is rubbing away the dead cells or some unfeeling I may have. After I listen to (and/or watch) a song by Cat Power, I can’t help but to feel something. Maybe I’m over dramatizing the effect this music has on me and maybe another day I will be sick of it, but today this is where it is for me. True enough.

A view of the world through a child’s unclouded eyes. Crying fetal-ly. Looking too closely in the mirror. That’s the sense I get. That probably tells more about me than it does about Cat Power. So, while I’m on that track, let me stray further…

When I was younger, I thought I might grow up to be magical. I hoped I would. I wanted to smell like flowers without help from perfume, lotion, or shampoo. I imagined that maybe someday my eyes would actually sparkle. That my skin might shimmer at sunrise and glow in the night. That my hair would radiate light. I could be the girl of the love poems and the love songs that aren’t real, except that I would be, you know, real.

To be honest, I never really hoped for those things to be true of me. I knew it wasn’t possible, but I did like to think of it back then. What’m I saying…I still do.

Maybe I should think of having traits more honorable, more useful, but no. Even if neither this nor that has or has not to do with what I started out with, not now. I’ll save that more worthy stuff for another time.

So you see, this is what listening to Cat Power does to me. Or maybe that’s just my excuse.

The Greatest

A taste of my pondering

I used to say that I wanted my words to drip from my lips like liquid silver. Now I say that I want to scoop out my soul, spin it into thread, and weave it into a tapestry of words. Words words words. What is there without words? Much, but how to think of it? Thinking in images, feelings, sensations without placing a word in is rather difficult.

I have this idea that, at least for me, there are at least two streams of thought going through my mind at any given waking moment. One of them is louder and more easily controlled, with the other bubbling in the background. For me to fall asleep, I believe that I must only have one stream of thought going through my mind. Sometimes, I am able to let go of the other stream of thought rather easily, falling asleep quickly, but at other times, it gets going so fast that it takes much longer to slow it down and tuck it away.

I’ve always been curious as to what other people do to fall asleep. I regularly asked my family about this when I was younger and more of an insomniac. I didn’t understand then that many people didn’t do anything to fall asleep, but that sleep just came to them without effort. For some time, when I was having trouble falling asleep I would focus on a very specific image. It was that of a large, deep green disc spinning. The disc was so large that from the distance my mind’s eye looked at it, I could only see about half of it at one time. This worked for me for months or perhaps a few years until it started making me feel dizzy and slightly nauseous when I tried to focus on it. Then, one of the few things that would let me sleep would be to imagine myself swinging and rocking back and forth gently. There was a hammock at a little camp on Horn Pond in Acton, Maine. I liked to feel that I was swinging in that hammock when I wanted to fall asleep. I would do this until my body and mind relaxed more and I felt as if I were actually moving with the imagined hammock. Other times, I would think of being in a boat rocked by the waves, but I could not control the waves in that, so I tended to favor the hammock. More recently, I’ve been falling asleep more easily so that I usually do not feel the need to focus or unfocus on something, but if I do these days, I center on my breathing. Still, I am curious about those who do have trouble falling asleep if they have any specific things they do or don’t do when trying to get to sleep.

From words to thoughts to falling asleep. It’s a ramble.

Interesting:

Before babies speak actual words, they are already babbling with the accent of the language around them.

Mercury (warning: dorkiness ahead)

Last night as I was laying in bed, I was thinking about mercury (element) and Mercury (planet). I kept visualizing the words and looking at the letters together. Oddly, no matter how I put the letters, no spelling looked correct, but I moved on. I wrote a sort of essay about mercury and Mercury in my mind last night. I even did some pretend research and thought of things that I would find out in different searches. I formed a whole mini research paper, just like that.The only problems are:

  • the Works Cited only lists my brain as source
  • the word type is invisible
  • the actual paper is intangible

Rather than try to recreate that paper here, I will tell of mercury in another way…mercury.jpgAs a child, I was confused about mercury, the element. I had not connected it with quicksilver, but instead believed mercury to be the red stuff in the great majority of thermometers I saw. How I got that idea, I do not know. Regardless, I tended to be more careful with the red stuff because I’d heard that it’d lead to behavior like that of Alice in Wonderland’s Mad Hatter character. Misinformed about the identity of mercury as I was, I never thought that the silvery stuff in two or three older thermometers in my house was anything to worry over. After checking my own temperature one day I believed myself sick, I was shaking the thermometer so that the silver stuff would return to the bottom. Accidentally, I hit the end of it on the edge of my bathroom sink, breaking the glass thermometer and spilling what I now know to be mercury. Not knowing any better at the time, I found the substance fascinating. I played with it, touching it and pushing little dots of it toward each other. Through those young eyes, the way the mercury looked, felt, rolled, and held itself together was fun. Eventually, I just washed, wiped, and threw away the thermometer and mercurial remnants. At some later point in time (but not too much later), I accidentally broke another thermometer with mercury in it! I can’t remember the details of the second instance, but I probably played with the stuff again. Later on, I realized that the silvery stuff was, in fact, mercury. It now seems that I’ve violated health codes and exposed myself to a toxic element! (Though cigarettes and other far less regulated things can easily do more given the right (/wrong?) circumstances.)  Those two short exposures probably weren’t much, but I could’ve absorbed mercury via inhalation or through my skin. Eh. I’m not worried about it. I don’t have any of the problems associated with it… Oh wait, yeah I do!

There are all sorts of other kinds of Mercury/mercury, including (but not limited to) a Roman god, a song by the Counting Crows, a car, a project to launch humans into space, a cruise ship, Navy ships, a place in Nevada, a novel, a dime, a surname, and a programming language.

Moral of the story? The world/universe/everything has a whole lot of stuff in it. True.