Forget Me Not

Get ready for a very picture-heavy post.  This one has a very different, very long, very sweet (maybe too sweet?) story attached to it.  And I'm trying to figure out the best way to tell it, without coming across as a crazy person.

Even though, you know.  We're all crazy.  In one way or another.

But anyway, that's a discussion for another time, another blog, another lifetime.  Today we're talking "Forget Me Not," and not just the flower.  But how pretty!

Latin name: myosotis sylvatica (or so I am given to understand).

But this song originates from the word for the phrase in a completely different language: the Sotho language, which they speak in a small, landlocked African country named Lesotho.  Here:

See?  Tiny, tiny, compared with the rest of the continent (and the world).  But beautiful nonetheless, and sad.  It has one of the highest rates of HIV infection in the world, and it's tragic because everyone deserves to live a long, healthy life.  Well, except for really bad people, but I don't think Lesotho has that many of those.

So, how did I get to writing a song based on a phrase in the Sotho language?  Here's where the long story part comes in.

Earlier this year (March), I fell in love with the House of Windsor.  To date, I have read thirteen books (just this year!) about the House itself, and about its various personages, and I could rattle off the names of every British king - or queen! - since Queen Victoria in the late 1800s.  (But I won't.)  And the history interests me, but so do the people, and who they are today.  And part of who they are today is their charity work, so when one of the books mentioned Prince Harry co-founding a charity for Lesotho (with the nation's own Prince Seeiso), inspired by his trip there during his gap year, I was interested and looked it up.  It's called Sentebale, and it has a beautiful, noble mission: to support and enrich the lives of vulnerable children (particularly those affected in any way by HIV).  And I was moved to action.

Worth noting: in the Sotho (or Sesotho) language, "sentebale" means "forget me not."

I donated some money, but it felt impersonal to me (and I also don't have enough to give, or I'd give everything away), and I wanted to do something sensitive, more heartfelt.  And so I was inspired to write this song (only now am I realising how flimsy it sounds, compared to the fact that donating money might actually help someone live, and live well).

I became obsessed with making this a perfect song, researching the nation (so the natural imagery in the first verse is accurate) and weighing the merits of every word I chose.  I tried to make it multilayered, and I'll explain more after I put it here.

Forget Me Not

you might find me, where the sunshine meets the stone
you might find me, where the grass is overgrown
but few every really come to this spot
you might find me, where the mountain scrapes the sky
you might find me, where shadows come to hide
and although I'm out of sight, forget me not

CHORUS:
there's not a single petal of life too young to care about,
nothing too small
and the more forgotten the seeds, the louder the sound,
when they fall
so when you reach out your hand, hold on with everything you've got
and never let the last word, fall from "forget me not"

you might find me, waving in the wind and in colour
you might find me, with my sisters and my brothers
and although I'm one of many, forget me not
you might find that sometimes, beauty has to bow its head,
where there's only darkness to face instead
and sometimes, it only comes as an afterthought

CHORUS:
there's not a single petal of life too young to care about,
nothing too small
and the more forgotten the seeds, the louder the sound,
when they fall
so when you reach out your hand, hold on with everything you've got
and never let the last word, fall from "forget me not"

you might find me, where old footsteps lead the way
you might find me, where tomorrow begins today
and although I'm not here long, forget me not

BRIDGE:
plant just one seed and it will grow for you,
a dozen flowers of the brightest blue
forget me not, forget me not

CHORUS:
there's not a single petal of life too young to care about,
nothing too small
and the more forgotten the seeds, the louder the sound,
when they fall
so when you reach out your hand, hold on with everything you've got
and never let the last word, fall from "forget me not"

So you see, hopefully, what I mean by multi-layered: "I/me," the narrator, can be the children the foundation is helping, or the flowers (in which case, it would be a delicate kind of metaphor), or the country of Lesotho itself.  As I said, the natural imagery in the opening verse is fairly accurate; then, the second verse introduces just a little bit of a sinister tone, but then it changes right back with the third half-verse, in which optimism mixes with just a little view to the past (the charity is dedicated to both founders' late mothers, which is where "old footsteps" come into significance).

And, of course, with the bridge, it manifestly talks about flowers, but it really doesn't mean just flowers: you don't ever help just one child, because there's a snowball effect of good.  At least, that's what I like to believe.  The chorus was the trickiest part, whereas I was wary of being too heavy-handed about it.

Of course, the actual flower of forget-me-not doesn't actually grow in Lesotho, I don't believe.  But I do rather like the poetry of the whole thing.

...

(The remainder of this blog post has very little to do with music.  So, you have been forewarned, if you do find your attention wearing thin at some point.)

So, to continue on with the narrative with which I started this post (a long, long time ago, doesn't it feel like?), I then decided I would not only write the song, but actually make it count somehow.  So I did something crazy, and wrote a letter to accompany it, and, on 10 June of this year, sent it to Clarence House.  To Prince Harry himself.

It was a rainy morning, and my hand was shaking as I dropped the envelope into the mailbox.  Then I tried my best to forget about it.

(Next, I'm planning to send it the Sentebale headquarters in London.  I just haven't written a good enough letter yet.)

But of course I didn't forget about it, and I kept imagining my letter, with the envelope on which I wrote Prince Harry's name and address by hand in purple ink, as it travelled across the ocean and continued its journey to a city where I myself have not yet been.

And, on 2 July, I got a reply.  FROM BUCKINGHAM PALACE.

I know it's childish to be so excited about this, and you're probably sitting there, rolling your eyes and just about to exit this webpage.  But my hand was, again, shaking as I took the envelope out of the mailbox, amid bills and junk mail, and up the stairs into the kitchen.  The envelope, by the way, had these stamps on it:

(I am, obviously, not including a picture of the entire envelope, replete with my name and address on it.  We are not that intimate with each other, you and I.)

I took a few deep breaths, and I think I even managed to convince myself that it was no big deal, so that when I opened the letter I think I had a split second of a hipster-like moment of just a mild, "Oh, cool," before I very nearly screamed like a fangirl.

Because what followed was this:

Sorry the lighting is so bad.  I would take a better picture of the letter, only I don't have it with me at the moment.  Maybe I'll go back and edit it in later.  But here's a transcription (I left out the address, for she greeted me by name).  (Claudia Spens, M.V.O., is the head of general correspondence for the younger Mountbatten-Windsors.)  She wrote:

Prince Harry has asked me to to thank you for your letter and enclosure of 10th June in connection with your gift for songwriting. 

It was most kind of you to take the trouble to write as you did.  His Royal Highness was touched by your words of support and encouragement and has asked me to thank you very much indeed for the copy of your beautiful song, "Forget Me Not." 

Prince Harry has asked me to send you his warmest thanks for writing and his very best wishes. 

So, yes, I have no idea if HRH actually read it.  But she did, Ms. Claudia Spens read it, and for me, that's enough.  And the letter has Prince Harry's beautiful initial/crest on it, which is nice.

See?

I apologise if it seems as though this post is dripping with self-importance (I assure you, it was not my intention), but I just felt as though the story went with the song, and I wanted to be true to it.

Anyway, that was my drama for the summer.  My moment of glory, me touching a corner of greatness.  There was a time I carried the letter around with me wheresoever I went, but I don't anymore.

Much love, and thank you for the musik,

Just Another Ordinary Girl

The smallest parts of who you are, are everything to me.

Finding out you're only human is hard / I want to change the world, but I don't know where to start / and I am fool enough to believe, there's hope among the ruin...

Slow Dancing on the Edge of a Flame

Okay, people, bear with.  It's time for a story that has very little relevance to the song at hand.

Once upon a time, I was in high school.  I know.  Crazy.

And, in my tenth grade pre-calculus class, there was a guy who sat one seat up and one seat over from where I used to sit.  One shirt he wore more often than any other (and I notice things like that, even if I don't remember what he looked like), and it was from a concert of some artist or other; I think it may have been John Mayer (?).  On the back of the shirt (which was the only thing I saw, sitting behind him as I did) was a list of the artist's songs - one of which was "Slow Dancing in a Burning Room."  Ever since then, I have loved that phrase.  I've never actually cared enough to go look it up, or to look up the song itself, but I have always remembered it.  I guess it's sort of grown in my mind to a really amazing image and a really evocative song - and I don't even know if it is.  I just know that some part of the title to this song was inspired by that long-ago shirt.

(It wasn't that long ago.  Let's not go nuts.)

And here is the song.  More afterwards.

Slow- Dancing on the Edge of a Flame

whenever you cross my mind, I wonder if you know

my resolve not to fall for you goes up in smoke

like moths to a candle we draw each other in

we melt 'til I can't tell where we end or begin

and the embers, they fall onto subway tracks

and it feels like there's no going back

CHORUS:

and every time I see you it's always the same

it's like we're slow-dancing on the edge of a flame

you say, "we're just close enough to warm our hearts,"

but maybe one more step is a step too far

if playing with fire is such a dangerous thing,

why does it feel so damn good and exciting?

I touch your face and I want to fall deeper

like catching a firefly and wanting to keep her

so we go on and glow, for as long as we can

and I'll take it, when you offer your hand

CHORUS:

and every time I see you it's always the same

it's like we're slow-dancing on the edge of a flame

you say, "we're just close enough to warm our hearts,"

but maybe one more step is a step too far

still I don't, I don't care if you burn me

BRIDGE:

we might light up like fireworks, or turn into ashes

either way, it might be safer to break all the matches

still I don't, I don't care if you burn me

we were never going to shine eternally

CHORUS:

and every time I see you it's always the same

it's like we're slow-dancing on the edge of a flame

you say, "we're just close enough to warm our hearts,"

but maybe one more step is a step too far

still I don't, I don't care if you burn me

we were never going to shine eternally

no, I don't care if you burn me

we were never going to flame eternally... (end)

To me, this is a beautiful song.  I know that's self-serving and all, but I really like it.  I really like the concept, and the way the fire motif and imagery really carry through all the way (also notice how the chorus builds continually throughout the song, just as a fire/flame grows).  I hope it's not too much - just as with "Coda," the song/music imagery there.  I just really like the double meaning/possibility/connotation of the image, of slow dancing on the edge of a flame - it's kind of exciting and dangerous and thrilling and cautionary and bad and good all in one.  Flame can mean actual fire, of course, or it can mean love here, and I think that's what really makes this song work.  When it first crossed my mind, I meant it as the dangerous alternative, but I think what I love so much about it is that there's always the possibility that it's not that dangerous.  It's like being with someone you know isn't good but who does it all for you.

Also recall the line in "Less in Love" that was, "I guess I only held you like smoke."  There's that connection, too.  Which I actually put down on the paper on which I was writing this song, because I thought it was ever so clever.  My resolve not to fall for you goes up in smoke...

Oh, and I love the firefly line.  There's something so beautiful yet ephemeral about fireflies, and I thought that was perfect and significant in the context in which it was.  Oh, and also, the part about the embers falling onto subway tracks: that started as "the flowers, they fall onto subway tracks," and I really liked the sound of it (even though I realised, after that inspirational subway carried me home, that it had actually been my library card that fell on the subway tracks that day, out of the pocket of my coat, which was a very sad experience (I'd had it since I was seven)).  But it didn't fit into this song, even though I really wanted to keep the subway tracks (it's like a way out but a way in, too), so I'm thankful that the word "embers" occurred to me when it did, because it is kind of perfect.

The Glee tribute episode to Cory Monteith was kind of perfect, too.

Much love, and thank you for the musik,

Just Another Ordinary Girl

I can't decide if it's a choice, getting swept away.

And I hope that I don't fall in love with you.

Coda

So, you know what songs I have recently discovered, and love?  One is "Royals," by Lorde.  And another is "Dust to Dust," by The Civil Wars (who are this great duo on whom I've apparently been completely missing out).  Also, "Lips of An Angel," by Hinder (this made me cry, even though it's an uptempo Nickelback-type rock song), and "Try," by P!nk (good to listen to while working out - "just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die").  Lots of fun.

Oh, and I can't forget "High Noon (Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin')."  It's from the film High Noon, and won the Academy Award for Best Original Song in 1953 - and it's such a good song.  With or without the movie (even though the movie is pretty fantastic as well - Grace Kelly!).

I also recently discovered that the woman who sings "Colours of the Wind," from, yes, Pocahontas is actually the same woman (Judy Kuhn), who voiced Florence in the disastrous 1988 Broadway version of Chess!  My favourite musical!  (Even if not at all my favourite version!)  It was a "fan-girling" moment for me.

So, yeah.  Good times.

And we're moving on.

You know what a coda is, right?  It's mostly used in symphonic performances and classical music, when a piece seems to end and then the music swells once more and replays a few bars of the dominant melody, an echo to an earlier moment in the piece, and then ends after that.  (And yes, that is the technical definition.)  (Not really.)

So that's the image I was going for in the song - likening the relationship to a musical piece that had a little bit more left in it, a coda as the extra to their relationship.  As such, I wanted to excite as much musical imagery as I could, without seeming too over-the-top; I also occasionally balanced it out with natural imagery (there's a fire motif, for example).

This song all began with a single phrase: "blaze of fury."  A play on "blaze of glory," I think.  A line about cymbals followed, and I loved that for the way it really seems to capture the way things went down.  But aside from that.  I think I started this song in February or so, but it took a long while to fully form.  The chorus was the most difficult part, to formulate and to finalise.  Oh, I also like the bridge - it may be a bit wordy, but it also says a lot about the coda itself.  I think if you're in something that you know will be short-lived, you want to make it as pleasant as possible, so I let my protagonists not be weighed down by any concerns (or arguments, hence the "trying not to say," trying not to lay blame) other than the music around them - and when it's hard to say something, you let something else, anything else (a song, a Hallmark card) say it for you.  And it all tied nicely together with my musical theme, so I used it and I like it.

And then I also love "we were a chord that turned minor, somewhere along the way" - it's just such a succinct, imagery-laden way to express that things were good until they went bad and discordant.  Of course, the best word to use would have been "dyad," because there were only two people in the relationship*, but that's a little more of an obscure musical term and I wanted this to be approachable.

*Otherwise it would have been a bit crowded.  Ha.

The rest I will let you discover for yourself.

Coda

we went out in a blaze of fury
with the drama of a symphony, but with none of the thrill
like cymbals crashing wildly and then, suddenly, are still
and so it felt kind of bittersweet
when we were both here tonight, and between us passed a moment
that reignited all the things we must have been

CHORUS:
I thought this was over, our song played out
a beat of silence took too long, and built up a little rust
but like a melody that comes back around
we took a breath and realised we had one more week left in us
and this is our coda, our coda

somehow it was easy to break the pause,
going back to our old harmonies, and trying not to say,
we were a chord that turned minor, somewhere along the way
now our heartbeat's as loud as it ever was
and the notes stay the same, even if we don't follow the rules
because unlike before, we have nothing to lose

CHORUS:
I thought this was over, our song played out
a beat of silence took too long, and built up a little rust
but like a melody that comes back around
we took a breath and realised we had one more week left in us
and this is our coda, our coda

BRIDGE:
so we let the songs playing in the background say all the things we were feeling
and we let the songs playing all around fill up the time that we were stealing
we took advantage of the chance to rekindle what we had,
but all the same we always knew it still wouldn't last
so we played along the best we could until the echo faded,
until we went out in a blaze of fury all over again

CHORUS:
I thought this was over, our song played out
a beat of silence took too long, and built up a little rust
but like a melody that comes back around
we took a breath and realised we had one more week left in us
and that was our coda, our coda

I'm grateful that despite the dust,
we had one more week left in us
thank you for our coda, our coda...

Of course, I realise, now, that there is some kind of shifting of tenses going on there.  It felt natural to me as I was writing it, but if it's distracting (which it may or may not be) I should go and try to change it.  Let me know.

Much love, and thank you for the musik,

Just Another Ordinary Girl

I see clearer in the rearview mirror than I ever did looking out over the hood.

I guess we never really moved on.

Less in Love

I'm going to do a little something different with this one.  Switchin' it up, so to speak.  I'm going to have the song first, and then I'll talk about it afterwards.  I feel like that would make more sense, at least for this one.  I finished this sometime in early May (having gotten the idea in early April), and I really loved it then.  And, of course, still do.  It is, in many ways, my most finished and polished song, I think.  But I will let you be the judge of that.

So.  Catch you on the other side of,

Less in Love

you said, "I could stay forever this way,"

and that was maybe my favourite day

there was something so warm in your eyes, even though the sky outside was grey

oh, we made hot chocolate and we sat down on the floor

I told you how I'm scared of spiders and revolving doors

you laughed when I said changing lightbulbs must be easy for you

because you were the tallest man that I ever knew

and then you started whistling the song they were playing the night I met you

CHORUS:

but I don't think I'd go back, even if I could

because only bad things happen, to end something so good

and even as I picture us, it's becoming clearer to me

that I was ever less in love with you, than with the memories

we stayed all day in each other's arms,

and Christmas music played, even though it was March

then we turned on some movie, when staying awake got a little too hard

we talked over the film, because we knew it by heart

and watched each other's faces, at our favourite parts

and I might never have grown tired of you looking at me

because that made me everything I've always wanted to be

and you always kissed me on the forehead just as I was falling asleep

CHORUS:

but I don't think I'd go back, even if I could

because only bad things happen, to end something so good

and even as I picture us, it's becoming clearer to me

that I was ever less in love with you, than with the memories

BRIDGE:

I guess I only held you like smoke,

I read too much in your face

I must have been alone in forever,

because you threw us away

it was good, it was sweet,

we were doomed, you and me

I used to be afraid of losing you,

but I think somehow I've made it through

still it'll take some time for a spider not to send me screaming for you

for now I dance by myself, to songs only I know

and I don't have to worry about you stepping on my toes

if I'd been less in love, I could have been first to let go

instead of left stranded, out here in the cold

but if I keep playing it all back again, I can't ever be alone

CHORUS:

but I don't think I'd go back, even if I could

because only bad things happen, to end something so good

and even as I picture us, it's becoming clearer to me

that I was ever less in love with you, than with the memories

I was ever less in love with you, than with the memories

This song.  I love this song, as vain as it may be to say so, mostly because it has so many elements, but they all seem to fit well together.  The line, "that was maybe my favourite day," was the first to come to me - and I feel as though the word "maybe" makes it so much more profound than it would have been without it.  Then the first two lines of the chorus came, already attached to the melody I hear when I read this song back (sorry that you can't!).  The second of those lines, "because only bad things happen, to end something so good," was actually inspired by something one guy said on The Bachelorette one season.  (It's a habit, I can't stop myself watching it.)  This guy, Ben, who later became the next worst ever Bachelor, as he was leaving the Bachelorette upon getting turned down, said, "Good things don't end unless they end badly."  And I'll never forget it because I remember loving it at the time.  So, here, I sort of appropriated it for my own uses, in a paraphrase, and tried to imbue the line with the feeling that although the scenes from that maybe-favourite day were part of something good, she wouldn't go back because then she'd have to endure the something bad all over again.  And it was bad enough to overpower the good.  That's the point of the song.

The final two lines of the chorus came as one of the last things I wrote for the song (it was a strange scenario, where I was writing everything else but didn't know what the chorus would really feel like yet, what the title of the song was), and it came from something I saw online.  It's a picture that someone posted somewhere of a page in a book (?) that reads, "How do you know when it's over?  Maybe when you feel more in love with your memories than with the person standing in front of you." I wrote it down so I'd remember it verbatim, and because I was so in awe of it.  So that's the tone I wanted to convey, but of course I had to put my own slightly-convoluted spin on it.  I also was thinking about switching up one of the choruses and having the word "possibilities" take the place of "memories" - because being more in love with possibilities than with the actual person is probably also something that happens sometimes.  But then, it didn't feel right here, because the song is a tableau of memory, not of possibility.

I also love the spiders and revolving doors line.  Not actual spiders and revolving doors, to be sure.  But the line, and how it comes back up at the end.

I also think the trans-versal juxtaposition of being "stranded out here in the cold" with the "something so warm in your eyes, even though the sky outside was grey" is a nice one.  It was almost accidentally profound.

But yeah.  I think that's it.  The last three/four lines of the second verse kind of kill me because I find them to be so real and extraordinarily, delicately beautiful.

Thoughts?

Much love, and thank you for the musik,

Just Another Ordinary Girl

Photo album on the counter, your cheeks're turning red / you used to be a little kid with glasses in a twin-sized bed / your mother's telling stories about you on the T-ball team / you tell me 'bout your past, thinking your future was me / and I know it's long gone, and there was nothing else I could do / and I forget about you long enough, to forget why I needed to / but there we are again...

And Her Name is Lonely

I consider this song a great triumph.  And my friend, to whom I've been sending these things during the various hiatuses of the blog, said it was his new favourite and "something truly special."

Not to toot my own horn, of course.  Please feel free to disagree.

But sometimes things crash into your mind, and all you can do is listen.  This is one of those things - it just appeared in my head out of nowhere, and all I could do was try to capture it and write it down.  So I'm proud of it, but for some reason don't feel as though I can entirely take all the credit for it (even though it was completely my work).

It happened during the week I had been working on "Left Behind."  And then, on a Thursday (and not just any Thursday - 14 February, Valentine's Day), I was waiting at the bus stop and a phrase flew into my mind: "And her name is Lonely."  With the "and," and the capital "L," and everything, which to me just begged to be used.  And it was like the whole song just spread out before me, and I couldn't wait to start writing it down.

So I won't really describe it too much, because there's not much to say that's not in the song already.  And being too verbose about it beforehand might ruin the effect of it.  Just some technical stuff: there isn't much of a chorus, specifically - a few lines do repeat, but they're mostly attached to the verses, so there's a flow that doesn't necessarily need a chorus.  The way the penultimate line of each verse in my mind sounds is quite dramatic, with cymbals crashing and drums (like in "The Moment I Knew," one of the bonus tracks off of Red).  A sort of escalation in instrumentation, if you will.  Retrospectively, I started thinking that maybe it's my own sort of response to my favourite Sugarland song, "Little Miss."  For instance, response to lines like, "little miss I'll take less when I always give so much more"; and "little miss hid your scars / little miss who you are is so much more than you like to talk about."  It's a genius song, and it hits home every time.  But this was an after-the-fact thought, so my song is just that: mine.

Because, I know this girl.  I am this girl.

And Her Name is Lonely

she's not the kind of girl that you would notice on the street
with a face you can't remember, and her shadow passing quietly
she never ruffles any feathers, always tries so hard to please
and the world that doesn't see her is exactly the one she sees
she comes home every evening, where "Eleanor Rigby" plays on repeat
she hums along with the melody,
and her name, her name, her name is Lonely
and her name is Lonely

she developed a habit of saying "I'm sorry" with every breath that she takes
because someone once broke her by saying she was in the way
now she waits to be asked before she'll open her mouth to speak
and she bites her tongue to keep herself humble and meek
she comes home every evening, where "Eleanor Rigby" plays on repeat
she hums along with the melody,
and her name, her name, her name is Lonely
and her name is Lonely

BRIDGE:
sometimes she searches for something to destroy
when the stillness closes in on her
and she sings in the shower, just to hear her own voice
but the silence is still taking over

(break in music)
she comes home every evening, where "Eleanor Rigby" plays on repeat
she hums along with the melody,
(music escalates, rejoins)
and her name, her name, her name is Lonely
and her name is Lonely

she's fallen in love with a man she likes to pretend is real
because at the very least it gives her something to feel
she stays up late at night thinking 'bout how her life could be
but maybe she'd be something great with just a few more hours' sleep
she comes home every evening, where "Piano Man" plays on repeat
she's uncertain and shy, but mostly, mostly:
her name, her name, her name is Lonely
and her name is Lonely

So there it is.  It's one of the more personal ones, I suppose.  I didn't even need to make anything up, because I know all of this a little too well.  I wonder what you think about it.

Much love, and thank you for the musik,

Just Another Ordinary Girl

You and I know, how the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leaving / you'll be dancing once again, and the pain will end.

Loved You Best

As promised, this is the pseudo-follow-up to the previous song, to "Charming."  They both work as stand-alone songs, but I think they're imbued with a little bit more meaning when put together in such close proximity and chronology.  They're bookends, if you will.  "Charming" was kind of the beginning of a story, and "Loved You Best" is the end of it.  Well, basically, all of the songs posted this year have been the end, but there is a direct link, obviously, between those two specifically.  The whole charming thing.  Which you'll see.

And once you read it, hopefully, you'll see why "Loved You Best" is the continuation of the evening described in "Charming."  As I said, the charming part of somebody is the way you get drawn into wanting to know him or her better, but the "when you weren't being charming, is when I loved you best" (from the chorus of the song below) is all the moments afterwards, when the walls of trying to impress somebody come down and you don't have to try to be cute or appealing and can just be completely yourself because you know he won't mind and that's the best part.  So this is a song that speaks to that, the moments beyond the charisma and the construction of the charm, the moments when it was isolated from anyone who was on the outside looking in, the moments when it was okay to be crazy and fearless and stupid and joyful and funny (I love the line "we were funny before we got too stressed"), because it was just two people.  No one was judging, no one else was there when the walls came down, who wouldn't understand the relationship.  So, yeah.

I might be repeating myself here, from the previous post.

So I'll move on and try to explain where this song came from, as itself.  And the truth is that I have no idea how I came up with this song so quickly; I was writing one song during class one April Wednesday earlier this year, and then this one came out of nowhere.  I'd been mulling around the final line in the chorus (the "charming" one) for a long time, and I had the first two lines waiting for me on my iPhone notes application, also for a while, but I originally meant them in a different context.  It's kind of strange how that happens, that something which seemed right in one circumstance suddenly makes more sense in quite another.  But it was astonishing, how this song came out of that.  Suddenly, I'd found my "Holy Ground," referencing the song from Taylor Swift's Red.  And what was even more amazing was that I still have so many phrases and memories and lines that I wanted to put into a song, but it was too much to fit just into this one.  I've been writing so many sad and lonely songs lately (more coming) that it felt kind of wonderful to write this one, focusing on happier things, more positive things.  There's always something good that can come out of the bad, I think.  I always try to look for a silver lining, no matter how difficult it can be.

So, yeah.  I really like this song.  It's lighthearted, and it tries (I say "tries," because I don't want to be too assertive or self-congratulatory in saying that it flat-out does) to capture that joy and exuberance and ease and youth.  For instance, I can't get over that phrase, "it was wonderful and crazy" - I don't know why.  But at the same time, the undercurrent is that you (the reader, you) know it doesn't last, so the fleetingness of the moments being described comes across with a certain bittersweetness that is beautiful in its own delicate way.

Enjoy.

Loved You Best

do you remember, I was sixteen and you were everything I wanted to know
together, we were stardust and a firecracker, and we weren't exactly taking it slow
we used to drive to a place we picked on the map, and we wouldn't tell a soul
and I loved to be in the car with you, your arm hanging out the window
we'd turn on the radio, and make up new words to every song we knew
our cocoon of steel shut out the world 'til it was just me and you

CHORUS:
and that's how I remember it, the time I passed with you
it was wonderful and crazy, and went by just a little too fast
looking back now and then it still leaves me kind of breathless
that we were funny before we got too stressed
you were mine before you were anyone else's
and when you weren't being charming, is when I loved you best

it's been a while, but still the sound I remember most is both of us laughing
together, we were sunrise and a hurricane, and we made silly faces in photographs
we used to stay up late for no reason but that we didn't want to sleep
and I loved feeling like we were the only two awake in the whole city
we'd close the door and be far away from people who could ridicule
and we wore out the bedroom floorboards dancing around like a pair of fools

CHORUS:
and that's how I remember it, the time I passed with you
it was wonderful and crazy, and went by just a little too fast
looking back now and then it still leaves me kind of breathless
that we were funny before we got too stressed
you were mine before you were anyone else's
and when you weren't being charming, is when I loved you best

and I loved that all the girls that were dying to know you never had a prayer
and in all the time I don't think there was a single second I was scared

CHORUS:
and that's how I remember it, the time I passed with you
it was wonderful and crazy, and went by just a little too fast
looking back now and then, it still leaves me kind of breathless
that we were funny before we got too stressed
you were mine before you were anyone else's
and when you weren't being charming, is when I loved you best

(outro:)
I loved you in starlight, I loved you in bare feet
I loved you in sunglasses, and I loved you with me
I loved you in black and white, I loved you in red
I loved you in army green, and I loved you best
I loved you in starlight, I loved you in bare feet
I loved you in sunglasses, and I loved you with me
I loved you in black and white, I loved you in red
when you weren't charming, is when I loved you best

Oh, man.  "You were mine before you were anyone else's" just struck me as so beautiful.

I also think there's something nice about saying "I loved you best" instead of "I loved you most."  I don't quite know what it is about that phrasing, but it somehow means more.  I don't know.

But maybe you do.

Much love, and thank you for the musik,

Just Another Ordinary Girl

You carried romance in the palm of your hand, you called the plays for us...and it drove me, and it drove me, and it drove me wild.