In Sadness

I came across this tonight, little sweetheart. Radiohead wasn't the main band in our shared life but it they definitely had resonance. 

"In Rainbows" came out in the months that we first first met and fell in love. Because Big Famous Rock Bands (c.) only release albums every three years, their next one, "The King of Limbs" didn't come out until early 2011. I was on their email list and got an alert. You could purchase/download the entire album a month before the CD came out. I read the email on my laptop sitting on the couch in your apartment in the Inner Sunset. You were down in Santa Cruz in rehearsals for "On The Waterfront" but heading home in your famously battered to hell blue Prius. I texted you from the couch as I waited for the download and ran out to get you dinner from Crepevine, so we could eat together when you arrived. You were so excited. We listened together that night and I think three more times.

This track, "Codex" was our initial favorite I think, mostly for its sound. We hadn't had enough of a chance to fully digest the album and its lyrical content. I'm not sure what day it was. I came out on Feb 12 because the screening of our short film based on my play "Two From the Line" was the next day, Valentines was the day after and I was there to see your opening in "Waterfront". We were supposed to return to NYC before my birthday to see Low in Philly and to record your vocals for the Flag Day EP in Brooklyn and to do a workshop of my play My Before & After at EST with you in the lead.

We never got to do any of that. Tragically. 

Instead, on my birthday, was your memorial. It was a Monday, so that may be have been why the theatre was free.

At one point I found myself outside and saw your dad in his car. I knocked on the passenger side door and he let me in. He had the stereo on. He said he was listening to the saddest song he could think of. I gave him this one on my phone, little sweetheart and we listened together, he and I. I had been listening to this album everyday. It was killing me but there it was. I'd been in the car with our friend Chris Smith in the days after when I had nowhere else to go. And he, knowing, had out put it on another time. This night I played it for your dad and he said "Yeah, this is sadder".

Sometimes I look at this world thinking how unfair everything is, how lawless, how untrue. I ache for you and always will. It's so fucking unfair. But I know how near you are. And that is something, more than something. It's the only thing. Love you forever.