Drink The Bottle Dry For Me in anticlimatic

This song is my current obsession. Something in the cleanliness of it. The absolute beauty of everyone performing. A clean and unsexualized scene straight out of my protestant memories of the 90s. The place they’re standing and performing- that soft wealthy light of a late spring morning. God. To pour all of it in a glass and drink, drink, drink.

Something that’s pleased me of late is that I’ve slipped back into a connection with things. I can see things now- through them, in a way- to places and contexts that they may share with others. These people sing of courting and jealousy and the finality of conviction, even if heartbreaking. Behind the blue eyes and beautiful jagged teeth I can see so many others- and perhaps a bit of myself.

I also feel nostalgic yearnings creeping up again as autumn disintegrates into the frozen grey-brown nightmare of pre-winter. I have a week of work left before I can catch my breath, but I’m taking the weekend off. First bit of time off in a couple months. Alright, I might work Sunday if I can make it back from the UP in time.

It is ridiculous and pathetic how much I miss the last few generations that have died off, and how much I resent the younger generations that took their place. Not for anything rational, sane, or grounded in logic. I just recent them for being here, because of how much I miss people who are not.

I keep think of my grandmothers, my grandfathers. That smell of laundry hanging in the yard in the morning; cabbage in the kitchen towards evening. My great-grandmother was born in 1902 and was a young mother through the depression. What a way about her she had.

Last updated November 10, 2023