I get this feeling sometimes that the world's playing with me, a little bit at a time. By which I mean, jiggles me by the odds and gawky, loosey-goosey ends. I wonder sometimes what my life would look like if it were different. Think too much. It's exhausting because inside my head, I'm 200 different people in any given afternoon.
I'm the person writing this story, and she is a woman sometimes, though others, she just morphs into this gormless, other thing. I'm hopeful, yet a nihilist in the same sentence. I'm drenched in this love for life, but then give myself to long bouts of drink and depression. And word-fuel and munch-crazies, and laughter and sex and dark and loud and sometimes all that at once. And it's exhilarating, and I don't complain, though every so often, I try to explain. Not justify, just make sense of things. Except, it usually ends up making me sad again, because by the time people have finished listening to my explanation, I will have moved again. I can't sit still. I flinch too much. I change my mind on a whim and want and dis-want, can't remember owning things, find myself alien from things I loved best.
Sometimes I think I tether myself to places and stories inside my mind because they serve as constants. If I love you, I can love you always, there's no need for bargaining, for to-and-fro. I need some things, like lighthouses, that I can know will always be there in my memory. The rest changes too abruptly, too fast. And it does so because I change it. Can't run with it. I'm still the person writing this post, but it's only been 300 words. Give it a minute.
You know what I'd like to know? I'd like to know if everyone's like that all the time, or if it's only some people. Is everyone exhausted at any given moment for changing their mind too much, for being incoherent and fickle like grass? Are you? Are me?
I never know how to accompany these songs, except to tell you what they mean to me in the moment of writing. Or just after. Or in-between.
I was so happy when I saw this. I've loved both Sam Fender and Andrew Scott for years and somehow, they found each other and are perfect for each other. They both embody this peculiar sadness and joy inside the same singular person. Like I know to, sometimes.
If you pay mind to the lyrics, it's such a sad, bitter song. But if you listen to Sam's voice, it's so happy and hopeful. Like there can still be hopeful things, despite the very worst of things. And if that doesn't work, just watch Andrew's face light up as he smiles. It's enough to tether you for a moment. To a moment.
I love Lzzy's energy. She's so magnetic and wild and gorgeous. And she's boyish and femme fatale at the same time, and she's rock and roll and she's a good kid but also a wildcard and she's someone who can somehow be all these things. And maybe that's okay.
I could never love the original the same way I do this version. It's so much more sexy and raw and real. For me. (Obviously, not to try and throw shade on Pat Benatar. Why would you.)
You taught me the ways of desire
Now it's taking its' toll
You're the right kind of sinner
To release my inner fantasy
Fuck, what a fun song.
You know, I watch this sometimes and wonder if he came back. I really hope there's a Warren there somewhere and that I get to know him (or her) somehow, sometime. Easily one of the best songwriters of all time, as far as I'm concerned, and that energy? Man oh man.
I'm sorry so much of this, of me, makes so little sense. You've caught me at a bad time. I'm changing now, again. My mind and my self. But if you come back soon, maybe I will have put myself together in a more pinstripe-y way.
