Blue Bell Knoll

I have fallen in love with the Cocteau Twins record 'Blue Bell Knoll'. I didn't think I liked the Cocteau Twins until a friend recently introduced me to them again; he had a similar experience with them, not really a fan until he heard a track off that record. I can't stop listening to it. Over and over again. I haven't played a record like this since I was 16 years old.
Last night I was walking home looking at the voluminous moon against the evening sky listening to Liz Fraser's voice pull and swirl notes around effortlessly, drenched in reverb, the breeze lightly seeping in through the hole in my hoodie, and it was ecstasy. I was happy.
I came home and cooked dinner, put up my curtains, took out my CD's, sat in my room smelling the fresh paint, and listened to Blue Bell Knoll again. And again. And one more time. I put on some other CD's but the whole time I just wanted Liz to be singing to me, I missed her when she wasn't there. So this morning I put it on again while I was on the T.

I love my new room. I can't stand white walls so I had to paint immediately when I got there. I have new sheets that are the softest things ever made, a new bed perfectly firm and soft, new curtains, everything is really warm, I can feel me wanting to be productive. I set up my keys the other night and they taunt me, 'please play me, please play me', and I want to. So badly. But I'm holding off until the need is so great that I explode. There's so much to do, so many things to set up and unpack, so many places to go, errands to run, friends to see. I can feel the needing buzzing in my ear, and in my heart, and in my soul, and everyday I ignore it the sadder I get. The less I feel like myself. But I have to organize, I have to get all this other stuff done, I have to be ok on the outside before I can venture within.

Until then, I'll hide in the Blue Bell Knoll and pretend Liz's voice is my own. The sweeping soundscapes the siren songs that bring me through the storm and crash me on to my piano bench.