ani difranco

i found it.

it was a dreamy summer's day in 2006, the lush greenness of which i haven't known since. in googling my then obsession regina spektor, i came across one ani difranco. this clip is what smote me, the alpha and omega of my ani difranco. it was on youtube. bitches removed it soon after - to my fidgeting, cussing and forever unappeased dread, as the album versions don't hold a candle to these. last night a failed embedding of it sent my precious sidebar briefly but distressfully amiss - my most gleeful, warmest thanks to vidivodo regardless.

around 21 i realized three things. one: i'll never play guitar that well - therefore will never be that prolific - and that's good. two: i can no longer stand making my lyrics so damn obvious it's embarrassing - and why, when there is metaphor *mind-shattering orgasm* - and that's also good. always is. [note: i do not compromise my poetry. they were just embarrassing.] three: so much of ani, from the do-it-yourself mojo to being bi to being so american, just isn't in me - so maybe she's not it - and that's... that.

but she was once my god of all songs [see, i've a thing for deification]. the one who really got me - not my method, my fucking feelings. not my neurotic hairsplitter feelings [for which i already had fiona apple], my human being feelings. all of life's facets and the more there is to it. quite possibly the most balanced ratio of intellectual, perceptive and poetic vs. heartfelt, intimate and direct; so too, of big words vs. fucks and shits.

oh, and ani:

i just write about what i should have done
i just sing what i wish i could say
and hope somewhere some woman hears my music
and it helps her through her day

nicely put. and don't we all. and yes it does.