Five years ago I was living in a one bedroom apartment. Staying up far too late, past the hour where most would have woken. Where I dare to say I was not careful with my body. With my mind. My money. My car. Just about anything. My friends and I would sit around and talk about nothing which of course felt like everything. One of my most poignant yet blurry memories of this time was when a friend and I thought it was a beyond brilliant idea to paint my bathroom… with our whole bodies. With acrylics. It was quite extraordinary until like all good artwork we over did it. We got carried away and scribbled words all over the walls and the tub. We smeared all the colors until it was a black greasy mess. Every door nob, every carpet, and every chair (oh wait I didn’t have any of those) was covered in paint.
Me and these people I was so lucky to call mine, use to arrive at the restaurant we all worked at early in the morning (you know like ten) and rejoice at another day working near a juke box. We would unload our pockets and play whatever we felt like, which was very commonly Fiona Apple or somehow that song that went, “I’m in love with a stripper”. Setting up those tables, amidst a smoke-filled room, with thoughts of last nights shenanigans fresh in our mind was not so much of a chore after all, not with our girl serenading us the whole time. Not one bit.
Five years ago at this very moment only a few things truly remain the same in my life; my coffee intake and a new Fiona apple album just came out. And once again, it god damn rocks. That woman. If I were more of a romantic I would think she was speaking directly to me. Her voice is incapable of sounding bad, even when it’s all gargled and snarly. Her confidence and lack of it mix up to this amazingly uncomfortable and awkward personality that I very much can relate to. Some things never change.