and all of your ways, a little bit stronger than the past
and your light, found my bottle in the night
kept me in this fight, gave me second life
and i won’t back down i won’t turn around and around
and i won’t back down
doesn’t matter what comes crashing down
i’m still gonna stand my solid ground
you found me once and for all
i laid it down in the sinking ground
the hopeless undertow
singing out the gentle sound
rattling through my smoking screens
my broken dreams last night
hallelujah ripped through my veins
i heard the hammer drop
my blood in the rain
hallelujah came like a train
when all is lost
all is left to gain
My Baby & Me, We Been So Far
The events of the past few weeks have been.. well.. frantic, hurried and more than a little frustrating. It’s that time of the year when my creative self rules over everything else and my head is caught up in Big Ideas, leaving very little time for anything else.
But Anything Else made time for itself at the end of last week, when a young woman drove her heavy European hatchback into the back of my very plastic-fantastic stationwagon. $9500 worth of damage later and I’m still waiting to hear back from insurance companies .. but it’s unlikely to be fixed – especially considering the state of her nose as well! 55km in the rear end can push you a long way up the road.
As Stephen so eloquently said – we were “rooted from behind on a sunny thursday”. More painful than anything else is the jarring to my lower back – I have an official ‘lumbar sprain’ and officially, it’s definitely making it’s presence felt.
Yup, one hundred and forty six thousand kilometres I’ve travelled in that trusty Ford stationwagon. Certainly a few deep late night conversations with friends, workmates and God have transpired in that wagon. 5 trips to Wellington, at least 10 to Whangarei and the surrounding districts, and countless trips to Hamilton & Mystery Creek. We’ve endured parking fines and all sorts together, and for the most part – she’s been a faithful workhouse – exactly what she was intended to be. Although I love the feel of slick polish under my hands and a seriously powerful motor begging to be let loose low to the road and with road-hugging power – that Ford was meant to work hard – and she sure has in the short four years we’ve been together.
So I shed a few tears when I handed over the keys at the panelbeater the other day.
Speaking of them, I was thinking about my guitar the other day. I love my Gretsch – it’s solid weight and bright presence. I like it’s confidence in itself.
The Maton though, is infinitely closer to my heart I’ve discovered. Something about the warmth of the tone, and the sweetness of the action – I just seem to be able to write better melodies and sing more honest songs with my fingers holding the Maton. Is it really possible to have a ‘relationship’ with material possesions?