Song for a Crappy Tuesday Evening: February Covers Edition (EVEN MORE SPECIAL BIRTHDAY EDITION)

Man. I'm not sure it could get more special than today. February Covers AND a Birthday? What's interesting is how many of those dear to me have birthdays on Tuesdays this year. Makes for some fun and somewhat painful birthday wishes. God, what if my song is totally meaningless to them? What if they listen to it and don't feel the same tremors I do?

This is worse than a mix tape.

Nevertheless, I need to hurl myself forward.

Today is CP's birthday.

CP is among the women of the West Coast contingent with Tina and Jan.

The first memory I have talking to CP is from my first year of college. My recollection might be a touch cinematic - She waltzed into the foggy coffee shop Kava Kane (where we spent most of our afternoons drinking grotesque amounts of coffee and smoking cigarettes...how the good people who owned Kava Kane ever tolerated us is beyond me), in a flurry of purple scarf and long black coat, was formally introduced and then made the brash announcement that she had never met anyone from the South who was intelligent. To this, I trumpeted my offense. (We were all given to blazing - if not a little uninformed- opinions in those days. The scene seems something akin to Sachs Cafe without all the Socialism and pamphlets.)

I had seen CP before around campus and she scared the living shit out of me - a gorgeous and and intense goth dream come true. Truth be told, I kinda hated her a little (Sorry, CP, it's true.) Who did she think she was, horning in on my friends, hanging out until all hours of the night? I'll show her.

It wasn't until several months later that she and I were left to our own devices when, hopped up on about three pots of coffee, we stayed up all night developing our own language. (I don't remember any of it, except that it was some combination of French, English, and Spanish, like Esperanto's cousin no one is allowed to talk about.)

Since then, CP has been, in many ways, the love of my life.

How do you tell someone who knows the very core of you just much they mean? How proud you are to know them, How you are better because of them, How you miss them so terribly, but still feel comforted to know that they exist somewhere on the planet.

With The Brunettes cover of "Love Song" by The Cure.

Say what you will about the Cure, this song celebrates and bemoans the ecstasy/agony of love. The Brunettes version caries with it the same tension of warmth and alienation...and with two voices. Lovely.

(I would just like to mention that it is genetically impossible for Robert Smith to sound happy. "Friday I'm in Love", The Cure's upbeat pop tune - while not entirely happy - sounds totally awkward to me. Like he's pretending to be okay so they'll let him out of the psych ward. Like a woman at the verge of tears on a blind date.)

Happy Birthday, Darling CP.

I can't find an embeddable video for Love Song from the Cure, but you can watch it here.



And Tina and Jan...I love you, too...I am better because of you...Thanks.