#965 - Close To Me :: The Cure
“I make the shapes come much too close,
I pull my eyes out,
hold my breath,
and wait until I shake.”
I think it was my friend Mike who once proclaimed that it was not a mix tape that I made if it didn’t have at least one song from The Cure on it. And, for a very long time, I’m pretty sure he was spot on with that.
I loved The Cure.
I still love The Cure.
Lyrically, musically and something more about their music has always just gotten to me, sunk in deep, and become part of my inner soundtrack. Their songs, they have memory imprints of parts of me weaved into them, and sometimes I can almost see/hear/touch/smell the time and place of my life the song brings up.
Like this one: I see my old red Honda hatchback. I can smell Marlboro lights and Poison perfume, and Studio One hairspray. I can see Sunset and Highland, or Gower, or the end of Willougby, near where that school was (maybe still is). I can feel crushed velvet and lace against my skin, long boots that curved over my knees, and the tight-skinned feel of all that make-up I used to wear. I see the vinyl booths with rips in spots, colored that horrid beige/orange mix that screamed “we’ve been around since the ‘70’s”, and that matched the waitress’ smocks - late night coffee, fried things, salad with too much dressing - and all that middle of the night conversation.
It reminds me of waiting by the phone until it was time to go out again, back when phones had call waiting and answering machine tapes, and were left behind when you walked out the door. Boys with eyeliner and long, gangly legs, who sometimes kissed just to say hello.
“I’ve waited hours for this…”