Sandra gave me a quick scan, and I felt that thing that women can do to you with just a glance. It is like having an emotional x-ray. Women can pass some kind of energy through a man's body using no high-tech, state-of-the-art gamma scanner but only their eyes.Ah, women. They're wonderful creatures. You'll note that I'm looking to get a few quotes from the book I recently finished thrown up. I like them, is why. They're fun to read and often they describe things perfectly. Right now, I'm thinking about women and the strange things they do.-A Salty Piece of Land, p. 249
I was listening in the car a few weeks ago (at this point. . . I'm slow at updating) to a song called "Something Like That" by Tim McGraw. A particular line stuck out at me:
And the lyric enlivened me.
I think, on some level, I remembered how hard I've worked for so many kisses I never managed to get. I go back and forth on an almost hourly basis about women right now. It's interesting to sit inside my head and listen to what I'm doing, and realize that I have no idea.
Nothing was working. It is simply not in the genes of a heterosexual man in the tropics during spring break to throw two beautiful, barely dressed, very forward women in the posession of a joint of killer weed out of his life.While I'll let anyone with weed walk out of my life without too much complaint, speaking generally, I identified well with Tully Mars throughout the entire book, A Salty Piece of Land. The guy had real girl troubles. Poor kid.-A Salty Piece of Land, p. 259
One girl left him for another man because he didn't and couldn't say what he needed to say at the time. Another girl sailed into his life and sailed out with him. One girl used him to fulfill his fantasies and then turned him over to some thugs. Another girl was there to lead him to lighthouses and worlds of adventure.
I couldn't believe how much I identified my life with Tully's for several chapters. Don't bother trying to match up women in my life with the ones in the book: there's not a 1:1 comparison, though some do exist in such a parallel that I couldn't think otherwise.
Also recently, I was listening to the song, "Settle for a Slow Down" by Dierks Bentley. I got into a discussion about whether the song was a sad one, or a happy one. Go ahead and read the lyrics (or listen to the song, if you have taste and like this artist enough to own a CD of his). I'll wait.
In the discussion, there were two opposing views: One focused on the hope (we'll call this the "Hope" argument) and the other focused on the fact that the girl doesn't slow down (we'll call this the "Damnit" argument).
Neither is technically incorrect, but when I hear the song, I don't hear the damnit argument. I don't hear the fact that the girl isn't slowing down. I don't hear the fact that she's gone so far away.
What I hear is the expression of love, the expression of hope, and the depth of feeling. It's not a sad song to me: he's let her go, accepted that out of love. He knows he'll never see her again, and he also knows that she won't actually slow down. Sure, he wants her to, he wants to see that brakelight, but he wants to see it because it will validate the love he still so deeply feels.
I think that part of the reason that I see this song as "hopeful" instead of the alternate "damnit" argument is because I see songs as stories, not as poetry or music. When I listen to a song, I hear a story. I don't hear the words alone, I don't hear the music.
In my mind, I understand the background of the story. I know how the story got to this point, where it goes from here. I know what is unsaid in the song.
Finally, today I received two Dove chocolates. They come with little sayings in the wrappers: the first was, "Write a Love Letter." The second was, "Naughty can be Nice."
I believe I now have an assignment.