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Based on the big deal surrounding the whole fiasco, these three syllables have the power to bind you to your beloved until the rest of time.Couples these days seem to think that saying “I love you” means that your souls will be forever intertwined as they travel through the afterlife together as a single being.Despite this common denominator, the things that I want to do with them are radically different. Everyone can love other people and other things differently, and the way that they express this varying feeling differs as well.
It’s not that difficult, so take a page from Nike’s handbook and Just Do It.
Below a powerful narrative about a Sikh woman (who uses the pen name “Chardi Kala Kaur”) who experienced domestic violence in her marriage.
They care about who says it first and when it’s said and what it means as a milestone in a relationship. I don’t need to consult my best friend and everyone else I know about how to share my feelings about writing 14-page essays.
People pour ungodly amounts of thought behind the whole thing, all to simply state a fact of feeling. “But I love them differently,” people whine when they are forced to face the hypocrisy of how easy it is to say that they love burritos but how difficult it is to tell someone they love them.
I read this week that those with anxious attachment styles (“clingy” types) and those with avoidant attachment styles (“distant” types) tend to be drawn to one another, because each type confirms the other’s beliefs about reality, each type validates the other’s worst fears, and Out of the many shows I attended in the month of May, these two bands’ were the ones I looked forward to the most, and justifiably so, as it turned out.
Mothers delivered the kind of big sound that you feel through your whole body, with Leschper’s voice nonetheless standing out in its brash vulnerability, baring wounds with blunt, brutal lines like “I hate my body” and “I don’t like myself when I’m awake” as well as the more subtle ones that keep you wondering — “I’ve imagined you one hundred pennies underneath my tongue” — her lyrics are poetry, and I don’t say that lightly.
We had been following each other on Twitter for a few months, and I knew she was going through a break-up, that she was wanting to learn to be comfortable alone, to self-soothe, to hold her own hand at shows, as she put it, referencing the first track of the aforementioned record, which the first sentence of this essay also references; nonetheless I went ahead and got in the way of that goal, held her hand in crowds, for a short time.
“i’m never not listening to adult mom in the shower,” I tweeted recently, and indeed the album feels much like getting clean, like a hot bath, or tea when you’re sick and just got out of the rain.
Mothers’ fantastic I’ve been letting both records, well, mother me these past couple of months, as I struggle to stand on my own, let others do the same, and not think so much about the girl whose number I got in January.
Though sonically quite different — Adult Mom tempts one to use the word “twee” and recalls acts like Frankie Cosmos and Eskimeaux, while Mothers’ sound ranges from the sparse quiet of early Joanna Newsom to a full-band folk-rock rollick, frontwoman Kristine Leschper’s voice just as dynamic as the songs themselves — these two albums are strikingly similar in their shape and subject matter.