Damien Jurado has a disproportionate influence in my life anyway.
I'm afraid that I sometimes ascribe too much worth to music. In recent days, I have found myself feeling that music was the only thing that could have resulted in a change. Maybe if I'd sent him a compilation CD rather than an itunes gift card for Christmas, it would have been different. Maybe he would have listened to the music and remembered that we came from the same red clay, knew the same irrational fear of dogs, and sat on the same rigid church pews. Maybe I would have made him the CD that trumps all others, a CD that would have made it turn out the way that the framed photograph in the hallway suggests. A CD that would have driven it home - both literally and figuratively.
Instead, I picked up a gift card at Safeway during a few frenzied moments over my lunch break one day. My music, his music, what does it matter? Now I'm left wondering…you know, maybe it would have made a difference.
On this interminable afternoon during what is well known as the slowest work week of the year, in my borrowed sweater and well-worn blue jeans, all I desperately want is for 2008 to be over. These songs weren't necessarily written or even discovered in 2008 - but they certainly were vital to it. So, I'll put together the music that has helped me process the year, thank the songs for their presence, and move on.
- gillian welch: annabelle
- great lake swimmers: your rocky spine
- damien jurado: gillian was a horse
- damien jurado: sheets
- damien jurado: go first
- fleet foxes: mykonos
- james yorkston: i awoke
- bon iver: flume
- horsefeathers: heathen's kiss
- beirut: mount wroclai
2009. It will be better, I know it. Even if our days will be written by text message rather than by hand, even if the big story of the year breaks via facebook rather than through a midnight phone call, I know that it will be a better year.
the darkest day of the year
Fittingly, it's been snowing with a vengeance around here, and Portland is down for the count.
Who needs TV when you have meteorology?
They're predicting cold weather for the weekend - a force down from the arctic that has no use for sweaters, scarves, or anything else of the sort. Hardened winds that have little mercy and no need for daylight.
Our northwest climate is so predictable, so commonplace - I miss the sense of adrenaline that comes from living in an area with distinct seasons. I miss the run on grocery stores that would inevitably occur each autumn in Virginia, a result of some hurricane slated to make landfall that evening. I miss having to pull off the side of a nowhere road in Ohio, due to the rain that looks like stars as it collides with the windshield, as if we're driving through a galaxy. I miss waking up to a Nebraska morning, the thermometer at negative two degrees and falling.
All of these things, I miss. And I know I'm constantly invoking my Iraqi family, but they're the most non-predictable (read: interesting) part of my life right now. We no longer sit awkwardly at the kitchen table and try to work through verb tenses. Instead, we go straight to the living room to talk. We will learn what we learn - but it will be through conversation rather than through xeroxed copies of archived worksheets. Last night, we were talking, and someone got all excited about something and got on YouTube to show me Hussam al Rassam (the famous singer, of course) giving a concert in Detroit. Then someone else took over and showed me a video of an Iraqi pop star, living her glamorous life in Baghdad, pre-2003. This evolved to compilations put together of famous Iraqi landmarks, set to traditional music. The mood in the living room sobered as we watched another video after video. They're proud of their city. They speak of it with ellipses, each time telling me, "This is the famous University of Baghdad…but…before…. Oh, and this is the City Center….before….".
The last time we hung out with our friends, we also jumped on YouTube, each of us having something to share:
Have you seen the PowerThirst video, what about the one with OK Go, you need to see the excited pug, check out SonSeed, etc. Our video searches are geared towards our amusement rather than the fulfillment of a nostalgic need. We get on there to laugh and make fun of ourselves. The Iraqis get on there to be a part of a familiar community and to see land that they will never see again.
No matter how much I miss the meteorological patterns of the Southeast Atlantic, I could go there and experience it any time I wanted. But my Iraqi family absolutely, under no circumstances, can go back to the Baghdad they left behind. The Baghdad they knew before…you know…before all of that happened….
grammatically incorrect
Had my Russian exam the other day. As I'm only in Russian 101 (the first of who knows how many more to come), the final was simply a conversation with my professor where I answered very basic questions about my family. What their names are, where they live, how old they are, what their professions are, etc. When the inquiries moved past my parents and siblings, they inevitably went to questions about my grandparents. And it was a little more difficult there, as I didn't know how to use the past tense. So, I started in:
My grandfather's name is Jim and my grandmother's name is Irene. He is 87 and she is 90 and they live in Virginia. He is a minister and she is a homemaker. They are very nice and kind. The professor smiled and congratulated me on a job well done. I hadn't spoken of my grandmother in the present tense for two months; even in another language, it felt strange.
Apparently, the ESL class is covering the same material. I sat down with one of my Iraqi students last night, and tried to nail down the answers for her upcoming exam. She told me about her parents, and then transitioned to her siblings:
My brother's name is Ahmed. He is 35 and lives in Baghdad. He is an engineer. He is very intelligent and handsome. But I know that he's the reason her mother has worn all black for the past two years. I know his story, and I know why his picture is prominently displayed on the mantel. I wonder if speaking of him in the present tense felt unusual to her as well…
But that's something you don't ask. Obviously. It's a kind of gift, to be able to speak of someone as if they were still alive. She's still being nice and kind in Virginia. He's still being intelligent and handsome in Baghdad.
