I'm down in The Tomb, 3/4 of the way through a slower than usual Sunday, reconnecting with an old love : 60's soul music. It started with Ben E. King, then started moving around through Solomon Burke, Sam Cooke, Wilson Pickett, Aretha, Otis, Sam & Dave, Booker T, etc. It went backwards and forwards a bit, touching on Doo Wop, Motown, and a few things from the 70's as well.
I think this is related to the singing thing I've been feeling lately. These are all songs for singing, and the topic is often love, which terrifies me, of course. I'm finding a strange comfort in them this morning, though. I feel oddly detached from the fact that she is right upstairs, that she tore my scab off again. I'm just hearing kindred spirits in these voices. What else is there to sing about, anyway, really?
Last night's sunset at Sandy Hook Bay was as beautiful as it was tense. If I had written last night, I would have gotten into specifics. This morning, with this music playing, with so much still to do tonight, I don't want to revisit those feelings. I'd rather just bake some bread, play some chess, and sing the future into being.
One month from tomorrow. I just have to get to one month from tomorrow ...
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