If you read my blog enough, it probably becomes pretty clear that cemeteries are a prominent part of my life.
- learned to drive in one
- fell in love with Henry in one
- and then almost drown in a bottle of water
- been stalked in one
- puked in one
- attempted to hide from Henry in something like eight
- once while wearing a fluorescent orange shirt
- fell in love with photography in at least a dozen
- had epiphanies in plenty
- tried to get a job in two
- cried at least once in every one
Most importantly, cemeteries are where I feel most at home. I’ve learned a lot about myself during cemetery walks and it’s where I used to tell stories to a very in utero Chooch.
When Christina and I were still friends, we didn’t see each other as much as we’d have liked since there were 300 miles between us, but when we did find ourselves together we almost inevitably wound up in a cemetery. It was on those occasions where I always felt the most alive and literally like a kid again, and those were some of the best moments of my life.
I had been waiting since over a year ago for the Isles and Glaciers EP to come out, and I finally snatched a leak copy a few weeks ago (don’t narc on me – I bought an actual copy when it was released, jesus) . There’s a song on it called “Cemetery Weather” and even though it serves up my heart en brochette on a plate of heart ache and tear-salted lettuce, I torture myself by listening to it over and over. I took a one-day break last Thursday because it was starting to feel like, to quote the great Omarion, there was an ice box where my heart used to be. I am literally pissing late 1990’s emo music over here, folks.
So, here. Have fun with that.
Can we speed up the process, please.