10.21

Worthy of telling is this story, to me anyway.

In an earlier post I told of my friend that shared desk space with me at a job I had several years back, pre-Anguilla days. He turned me on to a lot of new music that has since become some of my favorite artists and tunes. We, luckily, were able to listen to music throughout the entire work day and the channel remained on Dave FM for the most part. I would ask him constantly "Who is this?" when I heard a song I liked and he without exception knew the answer. I guess this is how he sized up my musical preferences. Before I resorted to interrupting him continuously as he tried to work, I attempted to climb on a chair and stand on my tippy toes to see the artist listed on the radio that was perched oh-so high up in the corner. Maybe he saw the struggle and began telling me the answer to my questions because he feared an eventual crash. But, I'm a climber. A flipper and a climber. You should see me in my kitchen. No worries, I clean the countertops, but I do have to walk them like a beam because Nick isn't always available to reach up high for me. Anyway, my desk buddy and I engaged in many in depth and really interesting conversations, ranging from politics and cultures to ambitions and the arts. Musicians came up often.

Once upon a work day, there was an especially intriguing song playing on the perched radio. A distinct tone in the song struck me as a mood mover- in other words, my body felt immediate feelings disconnected with my reality based solely on the voice and music I was hearing. Discussion followed regarding the artist and that artist was, drum roll... Elliott Smith. My friend told me of the way this artist's life tragically ended, a story I hadn't heard before. He had been stabbed to death, and many presumed the one who did this was Elliott Smith himself. I couldn't wrap my head around the state of mind required to conduct such an act. Thankfully most of us don't understand how that could ever happen. So, after some investigation, song lyrics were found and discussed through email. The lyrics were in fact very beautiful to me. I am always suspicious about how a person with such insight into the beauty of life and a possessor of a valued gift can also find the tragedy and ugliness so readily available to immerse themselves in completely. Completely as in the irreversible action of inflicting death upon one's self. Mind blowing. After thinking about this at different times, and studying how many comedians are depressed, I have come upon a conclusion that satisfies me enough for now. I call it 'the spectrum of happiness'. For every elated feeling one is capable of, they are also capable of the reciprocal value, which would be the same intensity of devastation. So, a calm person who is rarely excitable would be less often upset or sad. A very emotional person that is full of extreme joy can be consumed with extreme gloom. This, to me, explains how the funniest, seemingly happiest people in the world can fall into a deep depression so often and easily. This is how artists that see such radiance and beauty in the world can also see the devastation and darkness. It's an equal value positive and negative. This is my reasoning anyway.

So, two years and a little memory loss later, I email my friend this message on October 21st, 2008:

weird.
I just heard an Elliott Smith song. I somehow recalled who was singing and the story you told me of a musician that stabbed himself. I wondered if this was the musician and looked him up on Wiki. It is him, and the kicker... It is the anniversary of his death TODAY. He died five years ago today and the way he died was weird. It wasn't conclusive suicide. His girlfriend was there and actually pulled the kitchen knife from his chest.

how are you by the way?

(* note to reader- Elliott Smith died from 2 stab wounds to the chest. He was home with (and arguing with) his girlfriend who was said to have been taking a shower when she heard a scream, ran out of the bathroom and found him standing with a knife in his chest. She pulled it out, he collapsed, she called 911, he was taken to a hospital where he died in the mid afternoon. He was planning on recording a second album, which was posthumously released. A sort-of suicide note was found on a Post-It saying "I'm so sorry- love, Elliott. God forgive me." Investigation never continued, police were satisfied. Coroner's reports found no illegal substances or alcohol in his system, but mild dosages of ADD and Anti depressants. Suicide was never declared official.)

Just a fun little dose of coincidence. Until....

The next year, 2009, I sent this email:

Hey there. This is going to come across as completely random, because well, it is. But I was just now thinking of this song and the lyrics were really cool. It was a male singer and he sang of the soles of his shoes being worn thin. I guess it was relatively depressing, but I know we emailed them back and forth to each other once, talking about the lyrics.

Any chance that you know what I'm talking about? I know its a stretch.

How are you doing lately?.......... (it goes on.)

I know it seems I have a poor memory by these emails, but in my defense a year has passed between them.

His response to me was this:

Beth,
you really freak me out sometimes.
below is the note you sent me a year ago TODAY.
also, the lyrics that you sent me.

(* note to reader- The email he attached is the one I posted above from 2008... just in case that was confusing. And the lyrics and email continued.)

Aaaah! I find that so fun and awesome and beyond a dose of coincidence. Don't you? Don't you love when stuff like that happens and you think you have just had a glimpse of the spider web that is life? Two years in a row?! Is Elliot Smith tapping me on the shoulder? Is he in the air suggesting he should be thought of on this day and that I should email my friend about it promptly? I'm laughing a little as I write this. I doubt it's the case, I'm sure Elliott Smith has much better things to do wherever he is, who knows, but it's fun to think about.

This year's 10/21 was less spectacular. But, it is now a holiday of sorts and my friend sent me a 'happy' elliott smith day text. To which I responded the sentiment. The only sort of cool thing that happened was that I happened to text him back at 10:21 am. Which is of course similar to October 21st.

There you have it. This is my October shout out, as promised, to Mr. Music Man, and to Mr. Smith.