“When there’s nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire.”
This ever-quotable line was written, as far as I can tell, by Torquil Campbell, lead vocalist of the pseudo-indie menage, Stars. Every hipster and soundtrack-loving music fan has heard the graciousness of those words uttered with distinguished authority at the very opening of arguably their best-known song, “Your Ex-Lover Is Dead” – a windy-ballad about the conclusions we make and the stories we tell ourselves when we reflect back on a past relationship.
Clearly, it has to do with the exhumation of old, sticky feelings when confronted with someone you once kissed and called your own, and the subsequent self-immolation that happens during the memorial period…that is, until you realize that holding the torch is making your arm ache and you aren’t any kind of martyr for doing this.
..when you realize that you would be better return to your life, return to the centre of your universe, or less be reduced to ashes.
I’m kinda Jungian, so it’s all synchronistic to me…these are the lessons we face following any of life’s disappointments and jilted shocks, not just relationships. The loss of a parent, a quarter-life crisis, a haunting return of childhood trauma, the diagnosis of a chronic illness, etc., etc. All the aforementioned have been experienced by people I know.
The first half of 2010 hasn’t been kind to a good chunk of us, really….
I want to wrestle this song to the ground – I want to pull out a metaphor, pluck out a plum lesson from its jaws and summarize that there is more to that line than just a Purple Heart anthem for lost love. There’s even more to it – you can burn away a hang-up, a compulsion, a narrative, an idea. You can embrace a new norm, and then realize it’s dysfunction, and like a ’67b bra-burning post-grad student, turn your face away as you burn that silky, once-appealing concept up in your hands.
I think I went a good two months where I completely forgot I even had this blog.
It was a shitty few months there between winter and spring 2010; I discovered, as a writer and somewhat creative person, that I’ll never really be like Byron or Poe or Shelley or (Insert Dramatically-Deep Writer’s Name Here). Fuck, I won’t even be a Marilyn Manson or Eminem, penning out my self-indulgent anger in vulgar quasi-lyricism. Nope – when I am in the throes of woe, I sulk into my everyday routines and become lazy, lazy, lazy. My spark has bit the dust. The artsy-worded side of my brain has left the building.
So yes, part of it was having to concede that a romantic relationship I wanted was dead and I was making like Tom Petty in his “Last Dance for Mary Jane” video, trying to slow dance with the corpse of something lovely and now expired (Admittedly, I was the executioner. I couldn’t take the heat of postmodern relationship structures…).
But it wasn’t just the dead relationship that had me blue. My friendships skidded through the dirt for a while. Tensions rose between myself and my parents. My job as a social worker – which had long been a saving grace, a point of context, a seat in which I knew I had a place and a purpose – felt mundane and uninspiring. I was getting tired of it all. Really fucking tired. Kensington Market, Little Italy and Annex became skeletal beds of where I breathed and slept – the charm and character was gone. I didn’t care about writing a review anymore. I didn’t care about the new Indian takeaway on Augusta, the dessert-discovery on Harbord, the several gelaterias all clamouring for attention on College. I went on a diet and called it a day.
At some point, you gotta get over yourself. I’d like to tell you (and myself) that I did. Sorta….well, trying to anyway..
The point is, I’m back to the blogosphere. I need to write. I need to review, to rehash, to rewind and finally,to respond to this hive of life that surrounds me. Emotions hang in the balance, burn to the ground, or flourish into well-adjusted good will…but life goes on.
I go on.
The true constant is that there is a good life to live, good things to do, good people to carry us on the days and nights when we feel alone, good places to be in the heart and down the street. Best of all, good things to eat and write about.
Burn, Baby, Burn....
Amazing! So inspiring Emily!