Love the Interstice (Hey, Blondie!)

Because an interstice is all it is. I was going to call it Love the transition, except that's long and strenuous and often implies a set point A and B. I don't think there's a case of that here. Life isn't moving from A to B, is it? It's moving from A to A.1 to A.1.1. and passing through Z when it doesn't even make alphabetical sense. But then, what is an alphabet but a made-up string of ascribed meaning?

Look at me. Talking all this nonsense just to say I've changed. Again. Or have I, at all? I... I've been struggling a little with the tightrope between order and chaos, lately. I don't let on, but I can get really very terrified of chaos, which is about two seconds before my inner tyrant takes over. I would give anything to be saved from the chaos, sometimes, so I get it in my head how it's going to be and find it hard to derail.

This was just going to be a phase. A transitory stage. You have to go bleachy-blondey if you want to dye your hair other colors. I was aiming for blue. I am, still, but the way this was gonna play out in my head was we strip and then we dye. This was supposed to only be a transitory stage.

Except, who else but me knows? To the people who passed me by earlier, I was just blonde. They didn't know it was a transition. That I was, inside myself, really quite scared of chaos. They didn't know. So I agreed not to tell them.

The people I saw today, none of them knew. Men smiled at me like I was pretty. Except how can I be pretty in this state of undress? In this closeted phase that's not supposed to be open to the public, even? Does any of this make sense to you? Does it make sense when people say "oh that looks lovely on you"? Do they see all there is to know in my box-dye rebellion? That this is me standing up to the inner voice that has, for better or worse, kept me safe for a quarter of a century? Can they see how scary that is, behind that happy-smiley grin?

This is not to complain. This is to say. It's not always easy or natural for me to stop from where I think I'm supposed to be going. Even if it's a weird mish-mash of a goal that only you're aware of.

This is to say, today I'm loving the interstice because I've gotten to realizing how short it is. All these minute costume-changes between who you were, who you're supposed to be. I'm learning to soften before I blow out.

It did not go as planned. And what a trite disaster to be writing about - that my dye-job got derailed. That I decided I like blonde enough to stay in it a while longer. You don't care, do you? Why should you? But it's interesting to me, and it's a paper-house of things I don't quite dare say. The battle for order is on many levels, starting from the crack-back of my stapled heel, all the way to my warm climate-change roots.

And what is writing if not talking about chaos in easily digestible bite-sized bits?

I'm blonde. Er. I'm blonder than I was a couple of days ago. And I didn't think I'd like it, and I didn't think I could be pretty. And that was half the problem really, wasn't it?

I can't begin to tell you what a shock it was to me that I can lead a life enjoyable, and moreover that I can keep my life on the right path still without listening to my inner order-warden. Who knew.

Who knew.

Well, I don't know how that got all pensive and gloomy. I dyed my hair. It is, allegedly, reason #711 why life's worth living. Dyeing your hair. Hey-ho. And I like it. I love me in this weird warm blonde. Love the guy who passed then turned to look at us. I love it when that happens, when you find something that makes you go look and smile and stop being in your head and looking away.

I think I'll stay here a little while, in this transitional phase. And I wanted to show you this, my little moment in the sun before they break down the door and riddle us all with lead.

And since it's Tuesday, I also wanted to show you some tunes. Because it's. You know. What am I listening to? Well, only blonde-girl music.

Like this. The song came out a while back, but the video's more recent and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. There's something so eerie and transcendental about her voice. It got me writing some mighty creepy shit the other day that I was then really proud of. Someone told me it was too sad, someone else that it's hopeful. I'm (as ever) somewhere in between. Usually oscillating between those two extremities like a hyper-excitable squirrel.

I love Clutch. Saw them in Madrid a couple years ago, still one of the most fun concerts I've been to. Mind you, that might've been the rum coupled with the sheer exhaustion of trying to cover a wide-ass city on foot on very little sleep. But what a freaking voice Neil Fallon has. Fortunately, I hear they're coming back to Europe at the end of 2025, so who knows. Might be time for an encore. If you have the chance, you should definitely go see them.

Nick Cave is one of those very rare few that make you wanna go dancing with them but also have a long, deep, quiet conversation about the meaning of the world. Even when he says stuff you couldn't possibly agree with or condone, he's still so fascinating. What a guy.

Also, bonus track. Had to come back and edit this, because this is just so freaking cool:

So much my kind of jam.

Anyway. That's my blondie music for today, @ablaze. No actual Blondie, but I'm sure you'll forgive me :) Cheers for making things nice, and to you (the rest, if anyone is out there) for reading.