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9:01

I grew up with Shawn Colvin.  Not literally.  But Fat City was released just at the start of graduate school, and it was one of the soundtracks of those years. She was singing what I wanted to feel and do.  And we had the same hair cut.  And she seemed cool, strong, insouciant– things I wanted to be but that seemed so far away.  Maybe the hair cut would fool people into thinking there were more essential similarities.

Cover Girl came out in 1994, just when I moved into my adult life.  Again, same haircut (slightly updated from the 1992 version), and a sense of optimism and energy.  And her covers were better than her originals (although looking back at the lyrics on Fat City melts my heart.)  In 1994, I now think wryly, I was trying to be a cover girl, too, trying to make other people’s material my own.  Someone who was perfect for in theory  was my date to see Shawn Colvin in concert– a mutual friend declared we were made for each other and I wanted to agree.  I was ready to close the deal on the rest of my life and end the terrible uncertainty of being 24.  He was a lovely kisser, and he broke it off with me after a few dates.  I cried at the restaurant when we saw an older couple in the parking lot (older, I reflect, might mean the age I am now), and wondered if anyone would stay with me long enough to get gray hair.

Very soon after that, Daniel and I kissed for the first time.  His hair was already, prematurely, gray.  Now mine is, more every day.  I’ve been back to that restaurant scores of times, and shed more tears in that parking lot.  Shawn and I drifted apart.  I liked A Few Small Repairs well enough, but didn’t keep up.

Tonight we went to the bookstore, which is also one of the last record stores in town, and Daniel bought me the newest Shawn Colvin, Uncovered.  It’s not very new — it was released in 2015.  More covers, and more layers of comfort.  Not just her voice, but songs I remember from when I was small (Baker Street, for example. It came out when I was 8.  I feel like I’ve known that song my whole life, but I never knew what it was called).

I’ve covered a lot of ground in this past month, and I’m not necessarily wanting to write it all down. But I’m wanting to write again.  I’m reading Hermione Lee’s biography of Penelope Fitzgerald, who I adore (Human Voices.  Go read it right now.)  Penelope Fitzgerald published her first book, a biography, at age 60.  She wasn’t very nice some of the time, and I like reading about women like that.  Maybe if I get a haircut like hers…

I rarely listen to music anymore.  I frequently have headphones in my ears, because I’ve been feeling lonely and unsettled, and I believe that NPR was created to counter the ennui and unease of the haute bourgeoisie.  It turns out I’ve missed it.  And I’ve missed being comforted by Daniel.  This sounds like comfort and attention.

(that is one of my typical bad endings.  It’s late and I’m tired so I won’t try to fix it.  But I don’t like it. I don’t like the tone.  Too pat.  I’ll work on it.)

9:40 with distractions