Don't Play Love Songs
Without Prejudice
"Don't play love songs", he said.
And I wondered why. Were they too painful to hear ?
I knew he was going through his second divorce, two short marriages.
" It takes two to tango" was my first thought, "why blame it on the women ? "
Had to be his fault too.
But I bit my tongue so hard it hurt.
"Both Gold Diggers" he said , but had no reason as to why he kept picking gold diggers. Was it his big ego demanding empty headed money grasping bubble heads ?
None of my business. I decided.
When I first found out he was having sex with someone else I was in shock.
He made a weak excuse my friend said.
He thought I was going to another state to live he had said.
And I realised I had thought of that at the time as I love it there, and had intimated I might make the move but ultimately my home is here.
Here in the state of weird weather, one minute as cold as ice and the next stinking hot, meaning you have to have two wardrobes at all times. An air conditioner and a heater to hand.
But after much thought I knew " here" is better. As all my loves are here, beautiful funny loving kids that are my breath, my soul, my addictions.
And when the winter and S.A.D approach I can always take a break "Up There "
But not stay forever.
Even though the sun is gentle in winter and such a break from dull grey skies, wind and rain. I love it there in Winter but my heart is here.
He looked at me in that way I have seen before. That " putting me on a pedestal " that I had sen before.
I ran.
I knew that look, a look of love, possession, control, unbelievable jealousy.
And I ran. Ran to solitude, hurt, pain.
And love songs. Ones that resonated my inner thoughts at that time.
I never wanted at that time to hear them again.
Jar of hearts, Adele, anything. Gotye and his " Now you're just so done that I used to know" with its plaintive haunting plucking of strings and the heart. I didn't realise how the heart can hurt physically
And that I also had put him on a pedestal.
A man I barely knew.
But I missed them, the songs, I had a Dad that sang. He sang for a living, he sang at home, he sang beautifully.
Classics like Ray Charles and "I Can't Stop Loving You " and his personal favourite, " Take These Chains" he taught us songs of his childhood, "The Great American Railroad " "Horsey Horsey" "She Wears Red Feathers", we sang also at home, in the car, on the stage, everywhere, long car trips in outback Oz where no radio coverage was available. Or consisted of a bit of static and the wheat crop count in outer somewhere we would sing just for entertainment rather than hit and scratch each other.
If you said a word, a phrase Dad would find a song to go with it. We daren't say certain words in his ear shot, like Sunrise or a Sunset or he would immediately launch into "Sunrise/Sunset ", the worst when George my brother said he had lost a thong ( flip flop ) and Dad without a seconds hesitation launched into,
Without A Thong "
We would roll our eyes and moan but he would totally ignore us and continue. He sang at rehearsal on Sundays, he sang at Church, he sang us to sleep with lullabies. Music was him and music entered into all of our lives from birth. Tennessee Ernie Ford, Nat King Cole, Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Perry Como, Tom Jones, Merle Haggard, Louis Armstrong, Piaf, Shirley Bassey, Dusty Springfield, Helen Shapiro, Brenda Lee, Peggy Lee, Hawaiian Instrumentals, the list goes on and on and on.
Elvis ballads, Roy Orbison, Glenn Miller. For me beautiful love songs are part of my DNA and I am so grateful for them. I play my love song channel at night when I want to feel sleepy and relaxed, it doesn't make me sad. It inspires me, a beautiful voice, a certain phrasing, strings that sweep away the " dust of my soul ", memories of a sliver of time, almost forgotten.
The poetry of Dylan, the heart breaking songs of regret mainly written by men. Which seems the wrong way round somehow. The gravelly voice of Kris Kristofferson singing sheer poetry to the world, a gritty world of realism and redemption. Who can forget the line
" Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose " ?
To be Continued.....
"Don't play love songs", he said.
And I wondered why. Were they too painful to hear ?
I knew he was going through his second divorce, two short marriages.
" It takes two to tango" was my first thought, "why blame it on the women ? "
Had to be his fault too.
But I bit my tongue so hard it hurt.
"Both Gold Diggers" he said , but had no reason as to why he kept picking gold diggers. Was it his big ego demanding empty headed money grasping bubble heads ?
None of my business. I decided.
When I first found out he was having sex with someone else I was in shock.
He made a weak excuse my friend said.
He thought I was going to another state to live he had said.
And I realised I had thought of that at the time as I love it there, and had intimated I might make the move but ultimately my home is here.
Here in the state of weird weather, one minute as cold as ice and the next stinking hot, meaning you have to have two wardrobes at all times. An air conditioner and a heater to hand.
But after much thought I knew " here" is better. As all my loves are here, beautiful funny loving kids that are my breath, my soul, my addictions.
And when the winter and S.A.D approach I can always take a break "Up There "
But not stay forever.
Even though the sun is gentle in winter and such a break from dull grey skies, wind and rain. I love it there in Winter but my heart is here.
He looked at me in that way I have seen before. That " putting me on a pedestal " that I had sen before.
I ran.
I knew that look, a look of love, possession, control, unbelievable jealousy.
And I ran. Ran to solitude, hurt, pain.
And love songs. Ones that resonated my inner thoughts at that time.
I never wanted at that time to hear them again.
Jar of hearts, Adele, anything. Gotye and his " Now you're just so done that I used to know" with its plaintive haunting plucking of strings and the heart. I didn't realise how the heart can hurt physically
And that I also had put him on a pedestal.
A man I barely knew.
But I missed them, the songs, I had a Dad that sang. He sang for a living, he sang at home, he sang beautifully.
Classics like Ray Charles and "I Can't Stop Loving You " and his personal favourite, " Take These Chains" he taught us songs of his childhood, "The Great American Railroad " "Horsey Horsey" "She Wears Red Feathers", we sang also at home, in the car, on the stage, everywhere, long car trips in outback Oz where no radio coverage was available. Or consisted of a bit of static and the wheat crop count in outer somewhere we would sing just for entertainment rather than hit and scratch each other.
If you said a word, a phrase Dad would find a song to go with it. We daren't say certain words in his ear shot, like Sunrise or a Sunset or he would immediately launch into "Sunrise/Sunset ", the worst when George my brother said he had lost a thong ( flip flop ) and Dad without a seconds hesitation launched into,
Without A Thong "
We would roll our eyes and moan but he would totally ignore us and continue. He sang at rehearsal on Sundays, he sang at Church, he sang us to sleep with lullabies. Music was him and music entered into all of our lives from birth. Tennessee Ernie Ford, Nat King Cole, Sinatra, Ella Fitzgerald, Perry Como, Tom Jones, Merle Haggard, Louis Armstrong, Piaf, Shirley Bassey, Dusty Springfield, Helen Shapiro, Brenda Lee, Peggy Lee, Hawaiian Instrumentals, the list goes on and on and on.
Elvis ballads, Roy Orbison, Glenn Miller. For me beautiful love songs are part of my DNA and I am so grateful for them. I play my love song channel at night when I want to feel sleepy and relaxed, it doesn't make me sad. It inspires me, a beautiful voice, a certain phrasing, strings that sweep away the " dust of my soul ", memories of a sliver of time, almost forgotten.
The poetry of Dylan, the heart breaking songs of regret mainly written by men. Which seems the wrong way round somehow. The gravelly voice of Kris Kristofferson singing sheer poetry to the world, a gritty world of realism and redemption. Who can forget the line
" Freedom's Just Another Word For Nothing Left To Lose " ?
To be Continued.....
