I’m afraid that this is going to be another two-video post. But there is just so much I want to share and I’m having a lot of fun doing so!
Not to come across as some sickeningly depressive sad sack, but today let’s talk about the two songs from the beloved Disintegration album that can make me drop tears faster than Snooki drops her baby.
When I first moved into my current house back in 1999, I was really lonely. Yes, I almost always had people in my house, but in my heart, you guys. In my heart, I was lonely. I was still a year away from meeting Henry, and almost two more away from officially dating him, so I had that sadness that sometimes creeps in when you’re with all of the wrong people for the wrong reasons, like stuffing a bourbon-soaked cotton ball into a cavity-filled molar. So when I was alone, I would spend A LOT of time curled up on these two giant pillows I had on the floor, drinking Manischevitz from a blood-red goblet from Pier 1, and sobbing my dumb fucking eyes out to “Prayers For Rain.” Usually on repeat. But goddamn, did I feel great afterward! Like my heart was all scrubbed out and cleansed.
The drums always reminded me of when Atreyu was approaching the Riddle Gate in “The Neverending Story.”
The next summer, for my 21st birthday, my incredibly thoughtful friend Shawn (aka Mr. Wonka) built the most personal gift ever for me:
I had no idea what the hell it was when he presented it to me. He’s really into smart people things, so I was thinking to myself, “Oh great. A pyramid. Is this some geometric prank on me?” But then when I opened it, a small pot inside the pyramid began slowly revolving while “Prayers For Rain” played. He made that. FOR ME! It doesn’t play anymore, the batteries died I guess, but I will NEVER EVER EVER PART WITH THIS. It has a special place inside my curio cabinet. One of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received.
Conversely, the only time Wonka and I have ever fought was on the way back from a haunted hayride in Somerset, PA that same year when he had the audacity to say that Morrissey can sing circles around Robert Smith and I swear to you, I almost cut him. His then-girlfriend tried to change the subject by talking about Fiona Apple, like I give a shit about Fiona Apple, but at least she wasn’t trying to say she sang better than Robert fucking Smith!
I am clearly still fuming about this.
It’s nearly impossible to have a favorite song by the Cure, but I’m pretty sure if I was forced to choose, it would have to be “Same Deep Water As You.” From the opening peal of thunder to Robert’s breathy “and we shall be together,” this song puts me in the most beautiful trance.
This was playing in our house last Saturday night, and I held my arm up to Chooch and said, “Look at the goosebumps.” He looked and then nodded solemnly. He gets it.
But then he walked away because he said I was making him want to cry.
For years and years and years, I have wanted this to be what plays while I walk down the aisle, but at this rate, I guess just use it for my funeral. (You know, followed by “Funeral Party.”)