On the 2nd Day of the Dead: Quicksand

You ever have one of those moments where you are suddenly compelled to listen to a David Bowie record you haven’t played in ages? I’m going through a bit of a limited music thing. I’ve been driving my mother’s old car and as such I can play warbled tapes or my old iPod and that’s pretty much it. So circumstance has forced me to get better acquainted with my older iPod and what’s on it–including a very extensive David Bowie collection pre-Heathen.

I’m in the community choir, which means twice a week I head to Chester, CA for rehearsal. It’s been raining for a few days but not today. Today the sky was blue, everything was cold, and the ominous sight of Mt. Lassen was no longer one of drought ridden slate gray but instead entirely engulfed in fresh snow. It’s a half hour ride to Chester from my home and given the old iPod I’ve taken to being old school about music. Instead of listening to songs, I’ve gone back to listening to whole records. Yes, I said records. Whatever.

Hunky Dory was one of the first Bowie records I ever bought but I went through it far too fast in favor of other records of his. And at the same time I’ve been trying to write lyrics myself lately so I’m mesmerized by lyrical masters–David Bowie being one of them. I tend to overwrite them so I’m looking at the most said in the least amount of space. And yes the flirtation with buddhism doesn’t hurt. And neither does the Nietzsche.

And perhaps I’m just tiring of the whole ‘believe in oneself’ thing. I mean that just depresses the heck out of me and makes me want to slap people. Anytime someone says ‘help me manifest this’ and uses those actual words I think of atrocities committed around the world and think , yeah, if only all those Cambodians just manifested peace there’d have been no Khmer Rouge. Or it could be that I’m rehearsing Christmas songs in the choir which is fine and beautiful but every once in awhile if I have to sit there and think of the words about saviors and glory to the lord and I admit a certain amount of melancholy that comes a long with bullshit faith.

Don’t believe in yourself/Don’t deceive with belief/Knowledge comes with death’s release.

Melancholy songs don’t make me sad. Melancholy songs make me feel less alone. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one sinking in the quicksand. It’s the pretty that makes me sad. So I sing along and I sing along until I’m hoarse on the way home. It balances out the sweet sounds of the Christmas music. It’s not really an easy song to sing ‘don’t deceive with belief’ in particular is a hard line for me to sing as it goes all over the place away from my range. But I sang it and I sang it hard.

I related too hard.

And now I feel better.

A good analysis of Quicksand and this one has its moments too: more Quicksand

Advertisements

About margaretelysiagarcia

Margaret Elysia Garcia primarily writes fiction, essays and poetry from a remote corner of the Sierra Nevada. She's currently working on a non-fiction book about plus-sized modeling. She's also searching for a publisher for her new collection of stories? Mary of the Chance Encounters. Her short story collection Sad Girls & Other Stories out now on Solstice Literary Press. She blogs here and at Throwing Chanclas and Girl Body Pride. Is a contributor to Hip Mama Magazine. She writes the zine The Adventures of Sad Girl with her daughter, Paloma. She’s a three-time director of the national Listen to Your Mother Show in Plumas County (www.listentoyourmothershow.com). She has an alternative women’s music show Milkshake & Honey on Plumas Community Radio (www.kqny919.org).
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s