Change And Heartbreak And The sweetBitter

People are always telling you that change is a good thing. But all they’re really saying is that something you didn’t want to happen at all… has happened. My store is closing this week. I own a store, did I ever tell you that? It’s a lovely store, and in a week it will be something really depressing, like a Baby Gap. Soon, it’ll just be a memory. In fact, someone, some foolish person, will probably think it’s a tribute to this city, the way it keeps changing on you, the way you can never count on it, or something. I know because that’s the sort of thing I’m always saying. But the truth is… I’m heartbroken. I feel as if a part of me has died, and my mother has died all over again, and no one can ever make it right. ~Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail

Miss Holly and I were talking about change this last Wednesday. By the quote above, can you tell I hate change?  So does Miss Holly. (psst, I knew I was going to need to showcase you in a post, even if it’s not a huge thing) Today was a lot of change. She doesn’t like change. I don’t like change. We talk about how it’s good for us. We still don’t like change.

Change isn’t always bad. Today wasn’t a bad change. But change scares me. I like status quo, unless I’m the one making the change. I’ll make changes all the time, that’s fun. But I don’t like outside powers changing things. I’m rarely ready. Today I wasn’t ready. I knew a change might come, but I just wasn’t ready.

I can honestly say working in a professional kitchen has dropped a boatload of change on my life. Every single time I work, something has changed. Even down to the order of spices. It annoys the heck out of me. I have complained in the past, meaning probably last week, to Lucifer, my sous chef, that I hate change. He always laughs and says it will always change in the kitchen.  “One day!” I always declare. “I want one day where nothing changes.” I actually got that last week. I had one subliminal day. One perfect day where I had a marvelously perfect change free day.

One day.

My sous chef is now my Chef. I have to start capitalizing that. Which is hard because think of my current Chef as the Chef, not Lucifer. Sure, I’ve viewed him as my boss, but he really is the boss now. This is good. This is Sweetbitter. Probably a mixture of both. An even mix. I’m happy. I’m sad…. No, I’m wrong, I think I’m a tad more bitter. Keep reading.

I finally get to work with one person that I have been dying to work with. Not that we don’t work together all the time, but well, he’s in charge now. I’m looking forward to that. But now that he’s my boss, I can’t have him as an on the side friend. “No fraternization with anyone non manager.” is the general rule of thumb. I am no where near manager position. This is the bitter. Very bitter in my opinion. How do you give up a confidant in life? Bitter doesn’t even begin to touch the iceberg here.

Change is hard.

Rugburn, taking a selfie…. Okay, I held up the camera, but it looks like he is.

Last night I lost the love of my life. My baby, my puppy, my Rugburn, my guy for the last 15 years said goodbye last night. You always know your dog isn’t going to last forever, but you always think you have a little more time. You don’t. If someone ever tells you that there will be time, they are wrong. There is never enough time. Not with people. Not with dogs. Never take life for granted.

I fell asleep next to his body last night, curved just right, his front ‘bear paws’ so soft, smelling and feeling just like my puppy, and I woke up this morning thinking just a few more minutes with this. A few more…. A few more never fixes it because he’s not coming back.  At some point I realized that I was prolonging the hurt. Maybe. Because holding his body one more minute doesn’t make him come back. I want to go out and scoop him right up and say “hey, it will be alright.” But he’s not the one that’s in pain. Finally his pain is gone and he’s not suffering anymore. I’m the one that wants someone to say to me”hey, it will be alright.’  I want a hug that won’t stop. I want someone to not let go and suck all the hurt out. t’s kind of hard to feel that things will be alright when so much change happens. The hard kind of change.

Rugburn and I when he was only about 3

I hope anyone else going through change and doesn’t like it, understands that I can completely empathize with you. It hurts sometimes. It’s hard, a lot of the times. And it’s not something we like. I hate when people tell me that change is a part of life.  Which is why I always think about what Meg Ryan said above.  “People are always telling you that change is a good thing. But all they’re really saying is that something you didn’t want to happen at all… has happened.”

Kate

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The Sweet and the Bitter

Some days are good days, others bad. The sweet and the bitter. Pardon me for stealing that phrase, I literally picked up Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler today and started reading it a few minutes ago. I’m already hooked.

Today was a sweetbitter day. (I think I want to use that phrase now) For me it was a pretty sweet day, with a taste of the bitter; for others, it was definitely bitter. I’m not sure it even had a sweet moment.  Life in a restaurant is far from dull, always leaves an interesting taste in my mouth, and a sense of wonder that I am working in a professional kitchen.

But today had an example of how marvelous our staff is, especially working with them. Thankfully music is almost always on while we are cooking. Today, D-man had a great Pandora channel on, I think it was the U2 one, and Simple Minds’ ‘Don’t You (Forget About Me)’ came on. I happen to love the song (though I prefer Anna Kendrick’s version from Pitch Perfect best….) and Lucifer was talking with Richard, our new line chef, though we’ve worked with him since the beginning in different capacities.  Richard either couldn’t hear the song or didn’t know what it was.

Lucifer: It’s from the Breakfast Club.

Me: I love the song, but I’ve never liked the Breakfast Club.

Lucifer: (a phrase that is not polite and I won’t repeat)  I bet you were a 16 Candles girl.

I guess my face must have registered an ‘oh crap moment’ because Lucifer clapped his hands and said: “I’m right!”

Me: Yeah fine, yes I love 16 Candles.

Lucifer was not going to let that go so about ten minutes he goes to the chef, who is not really a soft kind of guy.

Lucifer: Hey Chef, can you believe K (me) hates the Breakfast Club?

Chef: I never really quite liked the Breakfast Club. I never quite got the point. [pauses] I was always more of a 16 Candles fan.

Oh my gosh! I shouted a thank you and we were all busting up laughing because if you saw the Chef, you would not think 16 Candles. Ever. He is super badass. I mean he has these tattoos that are just so badass man. He has a mouth on him that would make every one of my girlfriends turn so red. I was one of those girls till recently. I’ve learned to let it go. My mouth has actually gotten a lot less nice since working there.

But it’s sometimes the little things like this that make for a sweetbitter day. This definitely hit in the sweet department. Another exchange I found highly funny is that I looked up the French translation for ‘eff you’ last night. Va te faire foutre.  As a general rule of thumb, don’t sass someone with this if they know Spanish. Lucifer teasingly snarled at me to shut my mouth and I had best watch what I say. Damn him.  But it did make for a funny exchange.

Again, sweetbitter moments.  I wish most days were sweet for all of us. I wish the bitter didn’t crop up so much, but I love that I can joke with my marvelous coworkers. I love that we have this thing that is a pretty sweet working relationship. I love that I love all my boys (all the prep chefs, dishwashers, and line chefs) and that they are so seriously sweet with me. Richard, St. Michal, D-man, Lurch, Lucifer, and a couple others I haven’t come up with names for. I always tell Chef Wildflower to take care of our boys when I leave. She’s 17, nearly 18, but all the guys who are older than her and younger than me are our boys. We couldn’t do it without them. (and I might add we couldn’t do it without Miss Holly who is like the Mom of all of us)

Ah yes, this kitchen thing is an interesting life.

Kate

Writers Need Thinking Space

Recently, it’s come to my attention, most writers don’t spend as much of their time writing as they do thinking. Though I already know this about myself, I have only just given it some thought. Although it is crucial that the keys on a typewriter are being pounded out, thinking is important. I was watching a marvelous documentary, California Typewriter; if you love typewriters you need to watch it. In the film, writer David McCullough is showcased as one who uses a typewriter. He was talking about how he goes out to his writing shed, and many times people could walk by the window and wonder what he’s working on, considering he sits there thinking. Not typing, Not writing. Thinking. But to a writer, thinking is writing.

I read an essay by Naeem Murr about his poet wife, Averill Curdy.  For those interested in a poet romantically, read this article.—> My Poet.  How as a poet, she spends a lot of time reading or not writing. Staring out a window thinking. Spending a morning madly scribbling ten ‘hopeful’ lines of poetry. I can completely relate. I am a fairly prolific writer, or so my friends and writer colleagues tell me. This last week I wrote 4 good poems, though I swear it was five. Even Lucifer was impressed at the amount since he says he gets out about a quarter of that. It might have actually been a quarter of a poem, but I can’t remember. This is actually unusual for me. One poem a week is grand; two extraordinary. Most of my time I’m dabbling in random lines. A journal entry. Reading. While I don’t have as much time to read, nor the patience, there is almost always a book in my hand. Be it poetry or, hopefully, some fiction. I spend most of my time working out things in my head. Days later I’ll come back to paper and jot it down. I could easily sit out in the sun with a scrap of paper, just in case, and think for ages.

This is why writers need their own writing space. Where they can’t be judged for not pounding out the words. Where, if they spend an hour shooting a rubber band at the ceiling and catching it, no one will say a thing. (I’ve never done it for an hour, but I have done it.)

This last Thursday, I spent the entire day working on a 43 line poem. The whole day to not even fill up an entire page. I’d work on it for a bit, get stuck, go wash the dishes, work again, fix lunch, back and forth. There was a lot of time not writing. A lot of time staring at the page, or pages of ideas, flipping things around until they worked. At one point I asked the family to give me a synonym for a word. The thought was expressed that the reason writer’s needed their own space was so they didn’t have to ask such questions of non-writers. They can go out to their own space and be far away from the ordinary person. I could take the mocking the other day because the thought of my own writing place over a projected garage, sounds ideal.

While I like being around people, and I need it, I also need far away. Or like on Saturdays, a place where other writers gather and are quiet. There is something about being with writers that is calming, even when chatting. It always goes back to quite and writing.

This is ideal…

Lucifer mentioned recently that he loves to go fishing and for the most part, I could do without that pastime. However, I’m going to have to see if he’ll let me tag along once the weather is conducive. He can fish and I can write. Or read. Or, gasp, that glorious feeling of being in nature with the sun, sky, water, and trees around, and think. Now that sounds divine. Granted, when I get with Lucifer, I don’t shut up much, unless he shuts me up. (He’s actually good at it) But I’d like to have some space and peace and quiet. No distractions. . . .Okay, that’s actually conditional as nature distracts me constantly. As well as Lucifer, but it’s the kind of distractions that all us writers need. The power to think. And some distractions are better than others.

…. and this is a bit of an exaggeration, but still….

Non-writers, (there should be a word like ‘muggles’ for non-writers) will never understand the not writing to write ratio. I can’t even fully explain it, but without it, I know I would never write very good things. It’s just one of those factors you can’t explain. This was something I tried to explain to my Chef when I said I needed more time to write. Working over 40 hours a week does not leave time to write, and by write, I mean thinking as well! That was before my crash, but still. Even my family doesn’t quite get it. It’s okay. So long as I have space, and the time to get away here and there, it works for the most part. I could use my butler, Sven, but since he’s constantly not working, well, I guess I’ll have to tackle house work on my own.

Now I need to get my writing place! And it needs to be comfy! Preferably one with a table for my typewriter (and the other one I want to get), my laptop, windows, and lots of bookshelves. A couple nice chairs and a love seat or couch… I’m really dreaming here. Oh, and a good sound system. So I can blast the jazz. Picture it. A hot summer night, windows open and the light is on in the garret as the sounds of trumpets float out of the open windows…. Don’t forget the crickets and the sweet smell of hot summer sun baked pine trees.

Kate

The Romance of Writing Love Poems

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash
…wishing I could fly. Excerpt from the poetry collection “This Is For The Women Who Don’t Give A F*ck” by Janne Robinson. Published by Thought Catalog Books | ShopCatalog.com

I wrote the other day about how I was delving back into Foolsgold and I might find myself writing love poems.  I can’t say as I am a very good writer of those types of poems. I have to actually be in a state to write them. I did write a form of a love poem, and  I am prone to sharing those poems with the person they are for. Actually, if I write something for someone, I give it to them. What I mean by writing for someone, is that I will give the person a poem they inspired.   Lil, my coworker, got a poem that was about this brave wildflower pirate girl. Lucifer was given a poem that was to him. Mrs. Austen was given a poem years ago about tiny letters. (I think that is somewhere on this blog).

I guess you could look at poems to friends as a form of a love poem. One of the ladies in my writing group has two poems in my rejected manuscript. Actually, they aren’t so much as love poems, but inspired poems. That lady can inspire poems that are super incredible. At least to me.

Going back to reading Foolsgold, the heading for a chapter had a part of a Hafiz poem that just hit me hard.  The line was:

Tired of Speaking Sweetly
 
Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.
Isn’t that so incredible?  I love the manhandle part. I’ll post the rest of the poem at the bottom, but the thought of how love grabs a hold of us and rattles us to the core… Oooh, wait, I needed that line right there for the poem it inspired. Hold on. I’ll be back………..
Okay, I’m back.
So we’ve been wrecked and grabbed, rattled, thrust away, pulled back. Sometimes love has that ability to turn us black and blue and breaking things. I love finding poetry that hits me so hard that I have to start writing myself. The feelings contained inside are too much and I just wish I could hug the poet and say ‘thank you’ for saying what I’m feeling. Or what I needed to feel.

Galway Kinnell

Last week…. no wait almost two weeks ago, I was at a used book store and found a Galway Kinnell poetry book. I believe, though I can’t remember, I first heard his poetry on an episode of Poetry Off the Shelf podcast, but either way, oh does his poetry hit hard. It hits you right in the gut; right in the heart and mind. While I can only read small doses of his poems, I am in love. It’s beautiful.

 I don’t often find poems that are really good love poems in my readings. I’m very selective, as I don’t want just a lovey-dovey type poem. I want something that destroys you inside. Leaves you raw and trembling because you totally understand it. That is how I feel about this Hafiz poem.

Tired of Speaking Sweetly

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,
Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and
Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,
He would just drag you around the room
By your hair,
Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world
That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly
And wants to rip to shreds
All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,
And with others,

Causing the world to weep
On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,
Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself
And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants
To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down
And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear
He is in such a “playful drunken mood”
Most everyone I know
Quickly packs their bags and hightails it
Out of town.

From: ‘The Gift’
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

Currently I have the complete works of e.e. cummings headed my direction via the library. He had the ability to write some of the most provocative, erotic love poems. They have the ability to make you want to grab someone and kiss them desperately, they are that raw. I actually want to print them off, type them up, and hand them to people to make their heart race. To feel.

Even Shakespeare had that ability to thrust you into love wow. Oberon’s love of Titania is in my opinion, epic. Though currently I can’t find what I’m looking for in the darn play to post it here.

Love poems come in many forms. Sometimes, we even need to write love poems to ourselves. One I wrote this last Saturday, titled “You Can Be A Good Girl and Wear A Black Lace Bra” is a love poem to myself about how sometimes what you see isn’t what’s hiding beneath the surface, but it’s all intermingling with the outside to make you (or in this case, me) who I am. Thanks again goes to Mel for the title, though I added the ‘lace’ part because I want to emphasize the fact that there is total girly girl lace going on here.

So, how about anyone else. Do you write and share love poems? Have you read any good ones lately? I’d love to know about both, yours and other poet’s love poems.

Kate

The 70s Are My Favorite Era In Music History – Day 13

I feel I should write about spooky songs, beings that today is a Friday the 13th, but honestly, I don’t know that many spooky songs.

I was a child of the 80s, meaning I was born then, a GenY child, grew up in the 90s and was exposed to all kinds of music through my childhood. Without meaning to, I learned about the music of the 70s by accident. I used to listen to this light rock station when I lived in the Central Valley of California in my early formative years of music. I was given a small boombox with tapedeck, an extra blank tape and there you have it. I think it even came with a microphone to hold. I used to record and make my own things, my sister and I would talk; it was a lot of fun.  But where I had my most fun was I would turn on this nice station. I was monitored when it came to how noisy the music I listened to was, not being allowed rock, but this station was okay.

I thought because it was a station that played current things, that everything on it was current. Turns out, it wasn’t. A lot of the light rock stuff played in 1987 was music from the mid 70s, so without even knowing it, I was getting an education on music my parents listened to. My parents did have some music I would play on the record player, but honestly, when you are 5, the only thing you really want to play is kids music on the record player. Except for the classical composition of Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker Suite, but that’s another story.

Flash forward 13+ years when suddenly I had great access to a music catalogue from my now current library. My parents and I started ordering cdsto listen to and I was suddenly thrust into the wide world of music from the 70s. It was incredible. And the other thing was, suddenly I was hearing music I knew as well! I really remember the one I thought was a ‘my era’ song that was not, was Dan Fogleberg’s “Longer”. So 70s. So good.

I have listened to a wide range of music, so wide that I really have a hard time picking out favorite artists, though I have a couple. The music from the 70s was a lot of one hit wonders that were marvelous, but there were others that have entire albums. The 70s mix cds that our family made, our one of the most played sets of music in this house. There was a great collection of music called Super Hits of the ’70s: Have a Nice Day, and it was filled with a lot of the one hit wonder songs. But then I got exposed to the Guess Who, Three Dog Night, Olivia Newton John (which my dad had two of her records and now that I was old enough to get it, listened to her music), Neil DiamondBill Withers, Sam Cook, Simon and Garfunkel, James Taylor, Carole King, Joni Mitchel, Chicago, and probably so many more that I can’t list them.

I can tell you the song more than the artist a lot of the times, and if I had my druthers, I would play more of that era. It’s a good era. The music is fun, sometimes naughty, but mostly clean, told a story and just has a good beat.  I love talking music with people, especially people in my parents or older generation because they get surprised when I know that style of music. I know who they are talking about, a lot of the time, and I know what they mean. (this is why I say I get along with baby boomers. I have spent enough time around people in that age I get them way better than my own generation)

And not only do I know music, I like talking about it. It’s one of my favorite subjects.

So, what era of music is your favorite? Or do you have one, and why?

Kate

James Taylor Is One Of My Fall Jams – Day 12

James Taylor. 1969 . Henry Diltz Photography (via pinterest)

I wrote about James Taylor years ago on this blog, James Taylor is in the House , and how James was my autumn music listening choice. It’s still very similar, though this year, I can’t find my cd (I have yet to mp3 it) and I just haven’t had the time to put it on.

I think there are just some artists that have a propensity for certain times of th eyear. Why is Carole King’s “Tapestry” a hot summer album? Maybe it’s only to me that I feel that. Simon and Garfunkel are definitely fall. Melancholy? Maybe that’s why. Some of the songs of Simon and Garfunkel, James Taylor, and defintely Celtic music, tend to be much more melancholy and that apeals to a more autumnal listening soundtrack.

I haven’t turned on Art Garfunkel’s Breakaway album either and that is fall to me. But as time goes on, and my listening tastes change or are added to, I find that folk music and jazz fill up my more seasonal listening style. Right now is more of a time for Gregory Allen Isokov and Mumford & Sons. Maybe throw in the Lumineers. Bob Dylan. They all have a lyricism that is more poetry and autum inclined. Maybe it’s just my tastes have changed.

That being said, I think I ought to find James Taylor’s Greatest Hits and put it on. Some Walking Man needs to be in my life. Or the song below because well, it speaks to me.

Kate

Spanish Tunes That Are Totally Americanized – Day 11

Away (Enrique Iglesias song)

Away (Enrique Iglesias song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I like listening to music in other languages. French is a huge one, but Spanish runs a close second. Probably all due to Enrique Iglesias. But there are other artists that I like two, Fonsi being a new one. I can’t say I have a lot of Spanish tracks in my database, but I have enough.

The thing is, most of what I listen to has a much more American flair than true Spanish songs. Maybe because I like to still semi-understand what I’m listening to, considering I never took that language in school, preferring French, and when you have some English in there, you can sing it.  The thing about this type of music I listen to is that I can dance to it. (my kind of dancing which should never be seen in public) It’s got groove to it. And like any other kind of non-English song, it sounds way sexier in a foreign language. I have no clue what is being said, but it just sounds better, so it’s more fun. Non-Comprehensable = Sexy. Go figure.

I look for random songs that are fun to groove to and attempt to sing. Fonsi’s “Despacito” is sung way too fast for me to have a clue, even with lyrics, what is going on. It’s like they put it on fastplay to sing the song out, but it’s still fun.

Culturally, it’s probably not correct, but hey, I’m a white girl from NorCal. Sue me. It doesn’t hurt that Enrique is gorgeous. And has been. And probably always will be. And hey, he’s like Pitbull’s best bro, right?

Kate

Country Music Was Killed By ‘Bros’ As In Brocountry – Day 10

FGL

Country music was great up until about 5 years ago, though honestly, the best for me was the stuff of the 80s. Back when I really learned to like country music. You know, when the Judds were like everywhere.

But then this whole shift in country, thanks to the likes of Luke Bryan, FGL (Florida Georgia Line), Dierks Bently, and oh, Blake Shelton, kind of killed classic country. I mean, it was already starting to go the likes of more pop songs. Oh heck, country has been much more poppy for several years, but it was still doable. Now, well now it’s all about tight jeans, drinking, girls in said tight jeans drinking, summer nights, flatbeds of the truck and various other weird non country references.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the so-called ‘brocountry’. It’s a sexy genre that your daddy doesn’t like and you can feel a little bit sexy listening to, because honestly when a guy is crooning to shake your thang, it’s kind of fun. Besides, FGL inspired a whole novel of mine that I’ve been working on about a country (brocountry) singer. Hey, a girl has to take an idea and run with it, and if it happens to look like Tyler Hubbard, well so much the better.

I have a nice selection of Brocountry music to listen to, and yeah, while I love what I was grown on; Tricia Yearwood, Garth Brooks, Clint Black, Brooks and Dunn, and like I said, the Judds, I still have a semi-guilty pleasure of semi-bad country.

So, where do you stand on ‘brocountry’? Listen to it? Hate it? Secretly enjoy it? Psst, I won’t tell.  Share the details in the comments.

Kate

Don’t Judge My Pitbull – Day 9

Give Me Everything (Pitbull song)

Give Me Everything (Pitbull song) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

People are always wondering what other’s have as a guilty pleasure. I can honestly say I have very few guilty pleasures as most of what I like I will share with you. Be it crazy dating shows or dancing shows, cartoons, cheesy films, etc. I don’t have guilt with any of them. But there is one guilty pleasure I have that I don’t mention much, especially to my family.

I love Pitbull. Not the dog, though I do love Cooper, a pitbull mix my friends have. (the dogs are adorable.) I’m talking the rapper. The crazy, arrogant, kind of sexy blue-eyed Cuban American rapper. I love his music, the sexy, overtly sexy music, the rhythm. So far, there hasn’t been a Pitbull song I don’t like. I have him on all my running playlists, I have sole playlists devoted to his music.

I first heard him on an Enrique Iglesias song several years ago, and from then on, I was hooked. I don’t get some of his constant lyrics in a song…. what the heck does ‘dale’ mean? And thank you, Daniel, over on Daniel Is Funny blog, for referencing all the weird things Pitbull sings about. Yes, that would be an amazing drinking game, though I would be soused in two songs…. It’s that bad.  For those interested here is the Pitbull Song Bingo/Drinking Game

All joking aside, which is hard to do because I roll my eyes a lot when I listen to him, I still find myself sucked down into his world of rap that is so much more explicit than I would ever let a younger person listen to. I mean, just recently I fell in love with his “Greenlight” song and it’s gorgeous, in my opinion, but the lyrics make me cringe knowing I wouldn’t let my father know I love the song. Seriously, how much more explicit can you be about sex? But the beat makes me want to get up and dance and go dancing and salsa and cha-cha my way down the street.

Anyways, explicit lyrics are probably the reason I don’t tell people this guilty pleasure. Maddie…. knowing you are going to read this, possibly, don’t judge. Lol, (we are in the same writing group so I see her)  Anyways, does anyone else have a musical guilty pleasure?  Are you willing to share? Oh, I should add that Flo Rida is a bit of a guilty pleasure as well.

Kate

 

Favorite Songs Part 1 – Day 8

Bruce Springsteen, Drammenshallen, Norway

Bruce Springsteen, Drammenshallen, Norway (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“I’m On Fire” by Bruce Springsteen has to be one of my all time favorite songs. I cannot explain  how much I like it, but when I hear it, there is like this little piece of me that calms down and suddenly I’m okay.

Recently, Mumford and Sons did a cover of it, a live version, that is beautifully done. Raw, gritty, Mumford-y.  Then I heard the cover by Olaf Arnalds on an episode of Lethal Weapon. Now I’m not one to begrudge a cover, nor am I one to say the original was best, but in this case, no one has it quite like The Boss.

No, I think I will stick with something that truly shouldn’t ever be played around with and changed. Now to only find more Bruce Springsteen songs that are like ‘I’m On Fire’.  Does anyone know? I’ve yet to find one quite like that song of his.

Kate