What a place to live...
Imagine having that view out of your eyrie. And you'd ALWAYS know what time it was. What a perch for a writer of fantasy... WOW
May 19th, 2010
The heartbreak songs
I'm not entirely sure why I thought about this right now - certainly not in the throes of romantic heartbreak right now, anyway. But someone started talking about the songs of your life, and this one just swam into focus, sharply.
I can remember walking out of the house of the man I had thought I would probably spend the rest of my life with, after the "But can't we just remain FRIENDS?" conversation. I got to my car without falling down only because I knew that path so well; I have no idea how I drove home, because I could barely see the road through the throbbing pain in my temples, the icy-hot crack in my heart, and the burning tears that filled my eyes. I suppose I am lucky I didn't hit a tree or another car on the way.
And what was in the car stereo?...
"Read 'em and weep".
Through all the pain and all the tears I listened to this song, over and over, and wondered passionately HOW THIS MAN KNEW HOW I WAS FEELING.
"It's running silent and angry and deep
it's there in my heart and all I can say
is look at me and read 'em and weep"...
I got over it. We all do. Despite romantic novels and their dark conceits, we have all survived a broken heart or two in our day. I got over it, and found someone who healed the wounds, and I've been happily married for damn near a decade a now (tenth anniversary in July). But every now and then I trip over this song - THIS, out of all of Meatloaf's repertoire - and I can feel an echo of the atmosphere inside that car that night, full of heart's-blood and tears.
I got over it. I have not forgotten it.
When I need to weave pain into something I'm writing, I go to my heartbreak moments and tease strands from them and insert them into the lives of fictional characters, to make them bleed ink if not heart's-blood of their own. And this song... this song makes me remember.
I can remember walking out of the house of the man I had thought I would probably spend the rest of my life with, after the "But can't we just remain FRIENDS?" conversation. I got to my car without falling down only because I knew that path so well; I have no idea how I drove home, because I could barely see the road through the throbbing pain in my temples, the icy-hot crack in my heart, and the burning tears that filled my eyes. I suppose I am lucky I didn't hit a tree or another car on the way.
And what was in the car stereo?...
"Read 'em and weep".
Through all the pain and all the tears I listened to this song, over and over, and wondered passionately HOW THIS MAN KNEW HOW I WAS FEELING.
"It's running silent and angry and deep
it's there in my heart and all I can say
is look at me and read 'em and weep"...
I got over it. We all do. Despite romantic novels and their dark conceits, we have all survived a broken heart or two in our day. I got over it, and found someone who healed the wounds, and I've been happily married for damn near a decade a now (tenth anniversary in July). But every now and then I trip over this song - THIS, out of all of Meatloaf's repertoire - and I can feel an echo of the atmosphere inside that car that night, full of heart's-blood and tears.
I got over it. I have not forgotten it.
When I need to weave pain into something I'm writing, I go to my heartbreak moments and tease strands from them and insert them into the lives of fictional characters, to make them bleed ink if not heart's-blood of their own. And this song... this song makes me remember.
