Maybe it was the dimming of the light as I drove east. Maybe the last 48 hours of an anxious, hateful, unpredictable election. But probably it was the Yo La Tengo song I heard, for the first time, wafting out of my radio speakers in the car. The sound of a woman's soft voice, groovy drums, a bass part from an aquatic whale tank.
Sometimes the lighting, the sound and a mood comes forth that breaks the crystalized atmosphere of what is and you see backwards and forwards at the same time, many years with ease. A kind of transcendence that cracks your personal sky open.
I had that this evening. I had the experience of myself in 1995, living a life with Paul Williams; making music, writing a book, enjoying our shared lives together, back in a flash and meeting the me of right now. It was amazing and heartbreaking. I had the cry of a lifetime, I'll call it a Unicorn Cry, that kind that brings back your feeling of wholeness. I wasn't even afraid to continue crying when I saw my friends. I told them, don't be afraid, Im okay, and thank you for letting me share with you my Unicorn.