Lovers Without Love

It's funny how the music I'm listening to tends to take on the color of the moment in time that I'm passing through. The title of this post, Lovers Without Love, comes from a song by Joshua James. Lyrics:

This road has over taught me lessons 
About my lonely soul
I am young and getting wiser,
soon I will grow old
Strip my heart from misconceptions 
Fill my eyes with grief
Let me make my own connections 
In this endless sea. 

Oh muscle, cars, and endless bars, and shopping centers for the teens.
High price propane and crack cocaine,
And lovers without love like me. 

I see so much my vision's blurry, 
In the world i live
If we're to change them we must hurry, 
The devil's moving in. 
Love and hate can not see colors, 
Like the human eyes, 
So priests and preachers, parents teachers, 
Don't act so damn surprised

Its the world we've made and living in
Of greed lust and poverty, 
Of war and pride, teen suicide,
And lovers without love like me
From topless dances to Marilyn Manson,
And lovers without love like me. 

There's kids in gangs 
We have coveted fame 
We have sweat shops across the sea
We have abortive mothers, 
We hate each other

There's lovers without love
There's lovers without love
There's lovers without love
Like me



This song really struck me the first time I listened to the album, which is The Sun is Always Brighter (and that's not an affiliate link, btw, this is just plain old me saying "you can get it from Amazon if you want.) It's the last song on an emotive album that I've discovered at an emotionally stormy time in my life, and I am already quite attached to the music. It's been a long time since I adopted a new musical artist or purchased music on someone else's recommendation.

I was introduced to the music of Joshua James last weekend, when I was fortunate enought to spend some time in company with Joshua Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, the two writers of The Minimalists. They both highly recommended his music, particularly a powerfully moving live performance they'd seen. It's now on my list of things to do: see Joshua James in concert.

But my attachment to the music also relates to the timing of this week. All of this year has been tough, right since January first, heading through some of the strangest and most poignant months of my life, to now, June. The last few weeks have been the darkest. I haven't lost my sense of humor, nor my optimism, nor my determination. But I am shaken. I'm doubtful. I'm stuck. Several things ended in May. I guess I'll be starting over, many times over. I'm getting comfortable with failure. I just wish I could handle it differently.

So I was running from all of that, and yet we have a way of finding what we are looking for. I'm hanging on to a couple of moments of joy from last weekend. There were many, but at one point, it was dark in San Francisco, and we were on the bus, which was warm after the cold of the street. And Joshua was finding the directions for where to get off the bus, so that was alright, and Ryan was off his broken ankle and sitting down, so that was alright. Nobody needed my attention for anything in particular. And I had these two really great people, one on either side, that I'd been hanging out with and talking to, and laughing with, and we were in motion, and I've mentioned how I feel right now about movement. I love the feeling of moving, anywhere really. So all of these great things. And Ryan turned on Joshua James, which I was hearing for the first time. We shared a set of headphones, one each, and I just remember listening to this music, and the feeling of being completely, totally, relaxed, happy, content.

I don't know what any of it means. Just that it was meaningful to me, and somehow it's part of the million piece jigsaw puzzle. I still believe that somehow if I keep following my heart, the picture will come together. I know it.