Love Letter, Suicide and Ruby. Such is my day.
“Love Letter makes me think…Of things in the past…Ghosts…It makes me cry.
It is beautiful in a breath-taking way. The feeling reminds me of a time when I was just 10 years old and my family was crossing the country by car. I fell asleep one night in the foothills outside Calgary, Alberta it was dark so I couldn’t see anything off in the distance and I woke early the next morning to my father patting me on the shoulder and saying “Look, we’ve made it to the mountains” and I looked out the window and caught my breath. There they were. Majestic and beautiful. So far from any other experience I’d ever had and so awe inspiring. That is what the song Love Letter is for me.”
-From an e-mail I wrote this morning about Nick Cave and particularly the song “Love Letter”-
So my Nick Cave obsession goes on unabated. What can I say? Great art and loose cannons make for a wonderful obsession. If you haven’t heard him I suggest you track down the CD “Murder Ballads” and then listen to “O’Malley’ s Bar” it’s a 14 minute and 28 second tour de force. It’s a first person story of a psychopath who goes into a bar and insanely kills everyone in it. It sometimes leaves me feeling as though I was the protagonist in the song and by the end of it I am breathless and spent. If you make it through the song and you get what Nick is saying. Then go search out his love songs or his spiritual songs. They’re the bones that hold the meat to the body. Nick Cave is a perfect Yin and Yang. A balance of light and dark and he has such a unique voice. He speaks to the world like no one else does.
And another obsession I’ve developed as of late…
It’s Ian Curtis the singer for the very important late 70’s, early 80’s British band Joy Division. See the picture is important because it is Curtis and his 1-year-old daughter. And it may be the reason I am sitting here typing this right now. Ian Curtis never lived to see his daughter turn 2. He committed suicide. And left her behind. It’s this picture I’ve sat and looked at when I have decided I have had enough. Enough sadness, enough loss, enough grief and enough heartbreak. And that I will end it all, step into the great void and just sleep. It’s not therapy that stops me, not faith, not medication and not any of the moral arguments against committing suicide. It’s this picture or at least what it represents to me. A little girl left behind. To wonder for a life time ‘What was he like? Did he really love me? If he left me here maybe he didn’t? And if his life was so bad that he couldn’t stay then maybe life itself isn’t worth anything.’ And just that thought stays my hand so to speak. Sometimes I think such a heavy, silent burden isn’t right to put on such tiny shoulders. But it’s all I got right now. It’s all I can hold and feel and see. And if she can hold me like that, in her little way. Then I must be strong enough to hold her too. There isn’t a fail option, not this time. Not with her.
And so I look at the picture of Ian Curtis and I ache for him. But I especially ache for his daughter. Because I know he made a hard choice. And now it is her that has to carry the weight of it. When I am in that dark place I completely understand why he did what he did. And I even envy him for having the guts to do it. And I cannot condemn him for it. But I look at that picture because I cannot bear to look at my own daughter when I am there, it is too hard. And Ian Curtis and his baby become myself and my child. Some strange allegory I guess.
Pictures of me smiling are rare and only seem to exist when she’s in them too. Ruby Mae is my everything.