So it appears that I haven't blogged on here in two months -- for those few, faithful friends who read this, I apologize. I have done a minimal amount of blogging on an alternate blog (not sure I am ready to share those musings with the world), which is why I have been neglectful here.
To be honest, I don't even have anything important to blog right now -- I was just listening to Ray LaMontagne yesterday, and I just had to share my revelation about his voice.
His voice sounds like a campfire -- heated, crackly, and fed by woods that have seen seasons and stories. His voices creates shadows, creating a perfect palate for myths of simple heroes and ethereal maidens. His voice makes me crave flannel, romance and profundity. He makes my heart ache for a log-cabin retreat with my forever man, reading Tolkien and snuggling close.
That's some powerful music.
Side note -- In the Wikipedia article on Ray LaMontagne, it says he spent much of his time reading fantasy novels in the forest. I love that. It makes me feel better about singing oldies in the corner of the playground at recess. Maybe awesome adults are the inevitable result of weird children :)
1 comment:
I hope your last statement is true. I ate clover as a child.
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