I've been negligent lately. I've been at sea, but I've written copiously and just haven't posted it yet.
With this lifestyle, working like a dog at sea for weeks at a time, you have to treat yourself when you hit land and try to periodically convince yourself that it is all worth it. Most recently, I've staved off my imbicilic urge to buy new shoes (I live in fucking Hawaii and wear flip flops every day; why to I need new day-glo Pumas or one more pair of high tops or cowboy boots?) and have instead indulged in consuming music via Itunes. I have a hundred complaints with Itunes, but none serious enough to counter the seductive ease with which one can indulge their musical whims, so here I am with all these tunes.
Oddly enough, I've repurchased multiple Indigo Girls albums, which I'm not in the least ashamed of, even though every album I purchased I had already bought at some point as a cd or cassette. And I bought the new Jason Mraz song which I unappologetically love. And plenty of other things (expect to hear me talk ad nauseum about Leslie Hall soon).
Point being, I spent a pretty signifigant chunk of change on music recently. The most recent purchase is Cary Ann Hearst's album, Dust and Bones. I already had a couple of songs off this, so in all honesty, this purchase is not my first experience with her song "Dresden Snow", but regardless, that one song, if it was the only thing I had gotten out of spending the hundred or so dollars that I've recently spent on music, would be worth every penny. It is impossible for me to relate here how beautiful it is. Her voice, the lyrics, every damn thing about it hurts my feelings by being so beautiful. So I finally bought the whole album.
It was a bizarre experience having been given this song by a friend only to realize later that this Cary Ann was the same Cary Ann who used to play guitar and sing sitting on the stoop beneath my old apartment on King Street in Charleston back when she was still trying to get a gig singing at the Horse and Cart (may it rest in peace). So I'd be inclined to dismiss my enthusiasm as just so much nostalgia, but screw that, the girl can fucking sing. Go buy her album and if you get a chance to see her live, jump on it and write me about it. I'll be jealous and you'll be lucky.