Late Night Maudlin Street :: Recylced

I wrote this during the move from Honolulu to Seattle, little over a year ago. All of the below still rings true, and I sit, beer in hand, in my packed apartment, listening to the track in question. This song has broken my heart from the age of 15 on, and I can't imagine eulogizing a home, a life, left behind without it. Now, though while I move onward from Seattle to Los Angeles --even for the time being -- many of the same emotions come into play. The loss, the longing, the hope, and the expectation. Everything has changed, even if, on the surface, very little has.

Tonight, well, last night if we’re to be totally honest, I was to start packing. As has been expressed in a previous post, I am in the middle of Tremendous Life Change. I am moving as much as I can afford of my current life in Hawaii back to what could be said to be my old life, but is really my new life, in Seattle.

Yesterday, I turned thirty two. Thirty was spent in the middle of a hectic move to Hawaii, a move that was even more hectic because I allowed my then partner to shoulder all of the responsibility in getting us here. Sure, I helped, but not as much as I could or should have. Part of it was that I was resistant to change, and, even at the cusp of thirty, acting the part of a spoiled child. This time is different. This time I have only myself to answer to (because who wants to be in a relationship with a spoiled child? Exactly.), and must handle things differently.

Jamie suggested that I take some time out of the packing to do a post about Music for Packing, which, really, truth be told, is Music For Leaving. Because I am. I am leaving; I am leaving my partner of more than four years (who, in the spirit of our new found honesty left me), I am leaving friends, I am leaving an established career; I am choosing not to live my life for other people.

We could be clever. We could bluster about how we moved neighborhoods in Seattle in a Darvocet and Percocet haze to Les Savy Fav serenading us with “We’ve Got Boxes”. We could laugh when we remember the move from Kansas to Seattle, marking the miles with Modest Mouse and “A Life Of Arctic Sounds”, because, don’t you know, five hundred miles is a long way to go inside a car? (And don’t you know, once we got there, we pined away the nights with “Busby Berkely Dreams” by the Magnetic Fields?) But let’s not. Let’s share a beer and continue to be honest. Lets talk about “Late Night Maudlin Street” by Morrissey.

This song, oh, this song. This song, off Morrissey’s first solo effort Viva Hate, all the way back in 1988, is the song that for years has eulogized our passing from one physical space to the next. There has not been a move in recent memory that has not entailed sitting in the middle of the floor with a beer and Morrissey’s sad, sad lament about changing house drifting through speakers. I am moving house, a half life disappears today... It captures the ache and promise of new beginnings so perfectly. It is the ache of lost love, of a life that you’ve left behind; it was, is, and will always be, to me, perfect.

The rain pours down at the back of the Nu’uanu valley, where I currently live -- teasing me with the promise of a dark and potentially lonely winter in the Northwest. I’m drinking a beer, sitting at my computer, and listening to “Late Night Maudlin Street”, over and over, so many times that it’s embarrassing. It is, however, like a friend’s arm around your shoulder, fingers pressed into your bicep, and promising that everything really will be okay.

Oh, truly I do love you...