:: I'm almost there ::

parked outside the house we used to live
staring down the green roof and the walls
the balcony, the hills, the pain
the years of hope, the months of rain
now that we're outside it
I guess we survived it after all

I heard andrew mcmahon's 'cecelia and the satellite' on the radio back in august and immediately fell in love with it. I got home and looked up the artist and have listened his latest album 'andrew mcmahon in the wilderness' to death since then. it's incredible.

andrew mcmahon has that great ability to combine the most fabulous lyrics with the best tunes. they just blend perfectly together, and that happy marriage is not something I've come across often.

I will admit that this one, 'maps for the getaway', took some time to grow on me; but one rainy thursday night I was walking to my last class of the week, so ready to go home and be dry and warm, and the last little part of that verse popped into my head: the years of hope, the months of rain / now that we're outside it / I guess we've survived it after all

for some crazy reason, it made me feel immeasurably better. I was almost done with the week, and it was (it IS oh hallelujah) almost the end of the semester, and I do love rain. it was just this amazing realization that this too shall pass; I can make it through, and when I'm through, I will have accomplished something -- if only my own survival!

it sounds dumb, written out. but I really love this song. he has great evocative combinations of lyrics and melody. 'black and white movies' is another wonderful example, one that I was sure would destroy all my tune expectations ("the music cannot be as fantastic as those words. ...whaaaaaaaaano way. I am going to cry"). it's such a california song, and this weather -- all the leaves being brown, all the sky being grey -- puts me in dreaming of it again.

as the summer came and left with the rain
pushing shadows down the road
in this old beach town when the sun goes down
all the grey turns into gold

got no plans, just a feeling
I'm no architect at all
there's a fan on the ceiling
and a telephone that you should call

are you home tonight
are you laying in bed watching black and white movies
are you home tonight
do you ever rewind to the summer you knew me 

happy tears, G. happy tears.