Instant Crush

“She goes very still and I can count on one hand all the times we’ve been here before,standing at the precipice of almost and staring down into the abyss of what-if.”

― Kat Kruger, The Night Has Claws

For those of you who were living under a rock during the year that was 2013, Daft Punk made an impact, musically, digitally and emotionally. They helped wear down the heels of disco shoes and made the uncool feel dreadfully cool while driving in summer heat with the window down. Yes, we had sunny days in Ireland in the year that was 2013. The cosmic love made between Daft Punk and Sunshine, led us to believe we (the Irish) could be sexy and cool, at the same time.

Going back to point, Julian Casablancas paved a pathway to my heart with his vocals on the track, Instant Crush. Casablancas sings in his enchanting, fractured tone, about finding love but not fully realising what else is involved, until it’s too late. There is slight regret but ultimately, the song is a realistic love song.

The Song

Being in love is on a par with being insane. Does that mean that since the age I picked up a pair of knitting needles and fell in love with their long, cool bodies, I was certified, mad? Knitting and I have a tumultous relationship where I feel at certain times its unrequited on the side of the knitting. My knitting is the bastard of all knitting. I constantly remain hopeful things can only get better. I reminisce on the moments of pure perfection when what we can produce together is just short of ingenius! And then my son-of-a-bitch knitting goes awry, gets bored and feels “not in the mood”. My relationship with my knitting & work can be described in the words of Daft Punk, as “a world within me I cannot explain. Many rooms to explore, but they all look the same”. Synthesised poetry in motion.

But what is life without love? Wrapping yourself in cotton wool only makes you prone to vulnerabilty. The cotton wool has you then! Letting go of all the bad in my craft will, I believe, enlighten me to produce real works of art. A real baby I can be proud of.

Sometime later....

 ....Rabbit was born!

This must be the place

“Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as a secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.”

― Leonard Cohen, The Favorite Game

I have a scar. Well, I have several scars, some psychological and some flesh scars. When I was 2, I managed to pull a kettle of boiling water onto myself leaving a nasty memory of what pain felt like and a permanent scar of what was and what was to come.

Growing up, I hated the scald mark that disfigured me. I felt it was a blotch that would affect my right to happiness, that, god forbid, I would be deemed, imperfect. But that’s when I believed that on your pathway of life, pretty parcels of tried and tested, portions of life, were handed out. While the cleverer people choose those options, my imperfect self, idly choose the pick n’ mix. There is a knack to making sense of this mixed up buffet of choice, however, there are no rules and no guidelines.

Whether its vacuuming your vacuum cleaner, methodically eating a raspberry jam sandwich, every day or always looking under your car before getting in, we all have our tics or oddities that help make us feel complete. Even allowing all those ‘imperfect’ souls into your gleaming existence, can help make you feel more accomplished.

http://www.newscientist.com/special/ten-mysteries-of-you

I allow ‘strange’ into my life, as I believe, you must let the external strange seep in, to allow the internal crazy to come out. Like osmosis, helping create a peaceful equilibrium. I’m not crazy I just understand I have a little bit in me. For all the mistakes made during the tumultuous growing up years, the bad choices taken from that ill-defined pick n’ mix, I can’t begrudge myself the happiness I feel now for understanding myself and liking who I have become. The conventional would never suit, and if that had been chosen, my life would be very different but that story will never be told. 

Just for a reminder on how fantastic The Doors were and a quick nod to the late, Jim Morrison .... People are strange