a song for nightthinking (part II it seems)

It seems like I can think more clearly at night. It's like oh, it's 11:00 time to go to bed...oh wait, I have five million thoughts rolling around in my head and I can't sleep just yet. I go through phases like this. I used to spend my nights roaming the campus of Clemson, rain or clear, sitting on Bowman Field, sitting on the bench, smoking cloves, reading in the street light, listening to night sounds, to music...just being unable to sleep, and unable to breathe in my dorm room while my darling roommate slept peacefully...

Well now my sleeplessness appears to be returning...

So I hit play on iTunes, iPod, iWhatever, and listen to Sigur Ros and feel kind of safe and secure in my pink "cave" (as Sarah named it) and tap tap tap away on my lap top or in my little black notebook or whatever.

Last night I posted a song off of Sigur Ros' new album "Med sud i eyrum vid spilum endalaust" called Fljótavík. I've also added it to my "songs of the hour" section in the upper right hand corner of this page.

Please listen to it.

It's beautiful, it's heartbreaking, it's hopeful, it's rendering, it's simple and mysterious, and it makes me want to cry endless tears, but I feel a smile coming at the same time.

Sigur Rós' lyrics are obviously in Icelandic/Hopelandic so one can't understand them, and in the end I don't think you really need too, because the very sound of it speaks to you. But just out of curiosity last night I decided to see what the translation to this beautifully shattering song was. And it seemed appropriate, in an odd way, and made me think of the picture that I posted beside it last night... I really hope that it's as lovely to you as it is to me.

Fljótavík

Sjáum yfir rá We look over the rudder
Sjóinn skerum frá Cut off the sea
Við siglum mastri trú We sail by the mast
Seglum þöndum Stretch the Sails
Við stýrum að í brú We steer towards the bridge

Við siglum í land We sail ashore
Í stórgrýti og sand Up on the large rocks and the sand
Við vöðum í land We wade ashore
Ófremdarástand What a mess
Já, anskotann Fuckin' yea...

Feginn fann ég þar There I found myself
Þökkum ákaflega Endlessly thanking
Í skjóli neyðarhúss Sheltered in a makeshift house
Og við sváfum And we slept
Stórviðri ofsaði út As the storm died down...

once

(disclaimer = I'm pretty sure this is the must jumbled post ever. Mainly because I was just type-type-typing and never actually went back and read what I had wrote...I may go back and rearrange, but probably not...)

Tonight we watched Once. (received in a joyful little envelope with the word "Netflix" written on the side). I'm sure I will say more about this film.

Music with two people. Music with two people who can feel the tug of separate roads from their very first meeting. From their very first meeting there is a sadness between the two of them, the clinging to a moment, and the holding back. Clinging because they know it is so precious, and holding back for fear that when it ends everything will fall apart with grief, with pure disappointment that it couldn't last forever. Music telling a story that words couldn't fully express.

No. I wouldn't recommend this film to just anyone. Some people don't have the capacity for understanding to even fathom a meaning in it's less than polished style, and actors who aren't really acting, because they aren't actors, their two people telling a true story that isn't actually happening...not sure if that makes sense, but that's the best way I describe the film.

And the only reason I didn't break out into sobs at the end of the movie is because I know the two people that were somehow translated onto the screen (the real people inside the characters representative) are actually on the road, touring, playing their music (that was originally written solely for the film). Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova. They are now the Swell Season, and I saw them playing at Bonnaroo. Thank goodness for happy endings, even if they actually have nothing to do with the story told...

p.s. This movie is not a love story. It's a connection/intersection story.