Camus, spinach, origami, and other loves
Speaking of Tori Amos, those of you who know how prone I am to sudden and potent obsession will not be surprised to hear that I am quite enamored. Each song is like reading a really great book—but no, that’s not a fair comparison. Each song is like finding out something new about yourself—every time you hear it. And like making a friend. And a story unfolding…and then folding into a different shape. Origami.
“She sings like an angel and rocks like a red-haired banshee,” someone said of her. I think that’s about right, or as close as anyone’ll ever be.
As I was listening to Tori, I missed Neil so I’ve been reading his short stories all day. I wish I wouldn’t keep getting stuck in my writing, but I guess it would be no fun if it were easy. Right? This is what’s supposed to happen. Right?
Could David Byrne possibly be any greater than he already is? Well yes, he can: “Sometimes it’s a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence.” I like that.