i'm but a clean man, a stable and alone man

Also doubling as one of my top five favorite songs, I Can Feel a Hot One by Manchester Orchestra wins this day's music challenge of a song that makes you think about life.

It's one of the few songs, as I've mentioned before, that always gives me  chills when I listen to it. I am forever indebted to my friend TC for opening my ears to this gem.  

I remember head down, after you found out. Manna is a hell of a drug. I need a little more I think because enough is never quite enough. What's enough?

It's a song I often make people listen to in its entirety,  and I don't allow talking while it's playing. 

I took it like a grown man, crying on the pavement, hoping you would show your face. I haven't heard a thing you've said in at least a couple hundred days, what'd you say?

When I hear that particular line, I often picture a car crash that involves the singer's wife. He's distraught; the person he loves could be dying and he doesn't know how to make it better. It's the type of man I want to love me. It's the type of love that I want. Does that make me slightly morbid? Who knows? I'm unconcerned. 

I was in the front seat, shaking it out, and I was asking if you felt alright. I never want to hear the truth. I want to hear your voice is sounding fine, my voice is sounding fine. 

Only solidifying the picture made in my mind. 

And I could feel my heartbeat taking me down and for the moment I would sleep alright. Invading with a selfish fear to keep me up another restless night, another restless night. 

But why is he so heartbroken? Did he do this? WHAT IS GOING ON? All I know is that at the point in the song, I am experiencing all of the feelings related to love and sadness and loss and life and pain and survival.

The blood was dry, it was sober, the feeling of audible cracks. And I could tell it was over by the curtains that hung from your neck. And realized then you were perfect, with my teeth ripping out of my head, and it looked like a painting I once knew back when my thoughts were not entirely intact.

A line that will forever remain engrained in my head: And I realized then you were perfect with my teeth ripping out of my head...What imagery, what lyricism, what beauty. 

So I prayed for what I thought were angels, ended up being ambulances, and the Lord showed me dreams of my daughter, she was crying inside your stomach. And I felt love...again. 

And a love song that I thought was about death and dying turned about to be about new life. A twist, the Prestige if you will, finely crafted, and delivered impeccably. Andy Hull and company forever have my respect and admiration because of this song (their other stuff is fantastic, but this song just stays with me always).

I recently read somewhere on the internet (so take this with a grain of salt) that the song was written as a coping mechanism of being away from his girlfriend/wife while on tour with the band. I don't know if that's true, but now I listen to the song with a different perspective: being away from the one you love, missing them so much that it hurts. But it also brings the image of being reunited, and the sheer unfaltering happiness that comes with it, not only with spouses and such, but with family and friends too.

So, in a segway of sorts to the upcoming holiday, I am thankful for all of the loved ones in my life, family or otherwise, that I will reunite with this holiday season. The ones from New Zealand, Boston, Oklahoma, Arizona, DeSoto County, Jackson, (hopefully) Pennsylvania. I'm also thankful for the ones I won't be seeing this go around, but will hopefully see in the months after (I'm looking at you Florida). This doesn't even cover my Pharmacy people so spread out around this country that it makes me sad; I miss you all so much and wish you the happiest of holidays (our first without one another close by).

Absence does make the heart grow fonder. And the reuniting that much sweeter.

Peace and Blessin's y'all.