"He called to her in a kind voice, and Tereza felt her soul rush up to the surface through her blood vessels and pores to show itself to him."

-Alison Scarpulla

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-Embroidery

-Soup

-Smoking rituals

-Placing cards face up on the table

-White sky

-Expelled expectations

-Long showers

-Patterns

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I recently purchased a a compilation of Chris Knox covers that included covers by Jeff Mangum, Yo La Tengo, and The Mountain Goats. It's really great, and I love the covers by those bands that I'm familiar with, but even moreso I've found a really amazing song by an artist I had never heard of, Hamish Kilgour. The track is called "Knoxed Out", and there's something about the sound of it (not the lyrics) that I find hard to describe. There's this sort of seizing darkness in the sound that is both mysterious and familiar; a strange, hypnotizing nostalgia but not a typical sort of nostalgia, it contains an almost dizzying hopelessness. Then underneath that hopelessness, there is a hopefulness and courage.

I reach resolve in this somewhat vague description with my understanding that language is both a tool and a limitation; some things are unclear unless described, and others will never match up with a description. Similarly, the communication capabilities between a person and themself are truly unique, and they break these barriers created by language. If it makes sense to me that a melody can be so immensely personified (even though I may not be able to confidently arrange words to mirror these personifications), then I am satisfied with the fact that I understand a relation between the melody and something else, something beautiful and dark that is locked away in a subconscious, nearly forgotten memory of mine that does not want to be remembered nor spoken, that simply wants to provoke an emotion and a mystery.