Couldn’t Love You More

I drove to Aubrey’s the other night, after we had put Cole to bed, and realized that I had nothing to listen to. Nothing. There’s only shit on the radio, and I had the same CD in my car I had listened to for the past three months. I normally bring the I-Pod, so I can scroll through and carefully choose from the Rolling Stone Top 500 (ok, ok, I have a tendency to play, over and over, “A Paler Shade of Gray” and “Thunder Road”).

I forgot, though, this night, to bring the trusty device and so found myself awkward and strange about getting on the highway with a cigarette and no music.
Stoplight before the highway. I pull down my visor and look through the CD thingy, hoping for something even mildly listenable.

And then I see it. A silver and orange CD I’ve passed by, more times than I can count. This CD has been there, in my visor, for years, kinda like my “100 Best Hymns of All Time” (I kid you not). I didn’t want to pick it, but was worn out on sulky Counting Crows, angry Ben Harper and the weirdo-love-em-drug-addicts that are Old Crow Medicine Show.

So I put the CD in. And wait. For a song I know. Something I at least mildly remember enough to dig.


Old Bush. Pre-Gwen Stefani Bush. 1994 Bush.

So I hit skip, through the first couple of songs, and then — go back. The first. “Everything Zen.” Wait, I like this. I listen, smoke, listen. Kinda sing, mostly listen and wonder, “Why was I avoiding this?”

And it hits me….that “of course” moment. I listened to this (a friend had given me the CD) right about the time that Matt and I were breaking up. A real break and a painful one and the first “adult” ending of my life. That I’d listen to this, driving home from a late night, to a house I shared with a man I no longer loved and who no longer loved me. Songs that, in some way, defined who we were, who I was becoming, and represented the why of leaving.

And now, what, seven years later…I just now became able to hear it again. I’ve been happy, and over Matt, for a long time. Years. But wasn’t quite ready to go there, feel that, allow it.

I listened to “Everything Zen,” and knew where to skip, what song was what. Skipped to number five, “Comedown,” and then to number ten, “Glycerine.” And enjoyed it. Without bittersweet. Without longing. Without any fear of feeling too much or feeling what I didn’t want to.

I’ve listened to it a few times now, in the car and on my own. This song that’s crossed my mind, for ages, as I’ve overlooked it purposefully…a song that I’d loved, that had once emanated pure sex and lust…finally felt that way again:

it must be your skin i’m sinking in
must be for real ’cause now i can feel
and i didn’t mind
it’s not my kind
it’s not my time to wonder why
everything’s gone white
and everything’s grey
now you’re here now you’re away
i don’t want this
remember that
i’ll never forget where you’re at

don’t let the days go by

i’m never alone
i’m alone all the time
are you at one
or do you lie?
we live in a wheel
where everyone steals
but when we rise it’s like strawberry fields

if i treated you bad
you bruise my face
couldn’t love you more
you got a beautiful taste

don’t let the days go by
could have been easier on you
i couldn’t change though i wanted to
should have been easier by three
our old friend fear and you and me

don’t let the days go by
don’t let the days go by

oh, glycerine

bad moon wine again
bad moon wine again
and she falls around me

i needed you more
when you wanted us less
i could not kiss just regress
it might just be clear
simple and plain
well, that’s just fine
that’s just one of my names

don’t let the days go by
could’ve been easier on you
you, you


1 Comment

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One response to “Couldn’t Love You More

  1. Anna Fields

    I need more Wicked Mommy. Where’s my Wicked Mommy?!?


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