These Four Walls by Shawn Colvin

I'm listening to Shawn Colvin's "These Four Walls" and remembering someone named Chuck, whom I knew in Oregon. One class away from his degree in psychology, he wouldn't finish--refused, because it was a speech class and he was shy and quieter. He went to Lewis & Clark and had a great ear for music. I had the biggest crush on him.

This song just so happens to speak about death. Which is interesting, because I feel I'm somehow writing sometimes for or to someone who is dying. I don't know how to explain it. Not with every post of course, but some of the poetry I've written has come from a voice and perspective I found, but not within myself. I'm not dying, and not thinking about it either, but death doesn't bother me really. It's not depressing, in general. Losing someone IS, but the interior monologue questioning life and death, for me, is one of peace.

I want to write, need to write, the TTSOML. I will, I will. I will. Once I get going it will be fine. I just start hearing beautiful music and don't want to address it. I've been listening to this Colvin song over and over. The recording is nice--captures her voice well, and I like the acoustic guitar. I like the opening with her drum against the guitar. This woman is 50 years old and has her act together. Her delivery is perfect. I don't know that it's Billy Holiday perfect, and that the soul and emotion is perfect, but the vocal delivery and most of the interpretation is spot-on. In a way, less emotion or the reservation sort of fits--it's a song of resignation--or, maybe not resignation, but acceptance. I think she got it right.

I don't think it's too "safe"--it's appropriate for the song. This song reminds me some of "Whiskey Lullaby" by Alison Krauss. Not sure why. Will probably listen to it next

I really want to sing this Colvin song. I've been in a singing mood lately. So I think my writing about TTSOML will have to wait until I've got my singing fix. I'll write later this afternoon.