a friend told me in may,
that i was mixing up my roots with my web
i agreed without meaning,
or knowing the meaning exactly
she explained it to me, and it made sense
but i didn’t keep the thought,
instead i went out that night
and got drunk with strangers
i asked one of them if she wanted to kiss.
she said no, but took me to her house anyways.
she showed me her guest room
and said i’d have a place to stay if i ever needed one
but it was four in the morning
and she had to work
and i had to get on a train
so i walked back to my air bnb
where i had to be silent
and clean my hair out of the sink
and tip toe through the darkness
they gave me a good rating
i guess i'm still good at hiding
and i got on the train
and watched my city get small
and my head hurt so dull
and i thought of my roots and my web
as i looked at my phone
for twenty seven hours
and tried to sleep
and after my dreams
were too full of screaming
i looked at my phone again
and reread and reread
a note i had left
in october
“don't forget you tried to sleep in the dirt.
what else were you going to do.
you will never forget this time of your life.
never forget that.
kill yourself maybe.
it cant et better, right?
this is what you signed up for.
this is your life.
i don’t feel strong enough to save myself.
but i don’t feel strong enough to kill myself.
i cant imagine going on and on and on,
everything is always bad.”
i tried to remember the person who wrote them
even if she was me
even if she’s not anymore
but i can see where she was coming from.
she just wanted peace
and she still does
and i still do
every time i try to sleep
the only thing i'm allowed to see
is still your wide and wild eyes
as i picked you off the ground
and i could tell you didn't know who i was
and i carried you home
while men yelled at our backs
and i said “its okay”
“hey, its okay”
i did this out of love
even if you had lost it that night
in the shuffle
of getting “just one more”
of staying “a little later”
and i look at myself
and see what i’ve kept of you
and all i have left is the desire
for just one more
of staying a little later
so i look at this box of wine
that says “lush pinot noir”
and i think “well hey”
“they made a pinot for a lush”
and i think about laughing
i imagine the sound
but don’t quite make it myself
and i don't quite miss you
but i still cant sleep
so what do i do with all of this
what do i do when my dreams
tell me i'm late for something
when every logistical nightmare
is soundtracked my you
yelling in my ear
telling me i don't care
that i never did
that i always hated you
i never hated you
i only hated me
for standing there
listening to it
so sure i think of the dirt
and i think of the feel of it
between my fingers
in the cold dirt
in october
and that’s okay
that’s what i have to work with
i don't really miss you
i just want to sleep
so i think of my friend
as i try to explain all of this
and fail
and i watch that failure play in her eyes
and i try to change the subject
to some other dream
and my friend looks in my eyes
and i see that she knows me
and says
i think you’re confusing your roots with your web
“I’m Just Thinking About It,”
a new soft piece from Annie Fish.
I visited Chicago in May of 2021, before I moved back for keeps in December. In May I thought I didn’t need Chicago, that I was okay, that everything was fine inside my little heart, within my little head. While I was there (now here), I tried to explain what I experienced, what I went through, in the years before. I felt like I didn’t get very far in that explaining, but as I unspooled the memories of the conversations I had with deep friends, I realized they understood me better than I could realize. I was trying to explain trauma, I was trying to explain heartbreak. I was trying to explain the will to death. I was trying to explain the soft path out.
Recently I thought to wonder why I’ve been having trouble sleeping. I knew, deep down, exactly why. I knew what exact knot of memory and what exact tangle of experience was leaving me in the mess of exhaustion I find myself in. It’s a complicated place I find myself, trying to undo a mix of care and terror. I can’t sleep because of memories of abuse, and I can’t sleep because of memories of love; and sometimes I find that these memories are the same thing.
“I’m Just Thinking About It” is the unspooling of the wondering why I can’t sleep. It is focused through the lens of the conversations I had with deep friends, as I tried to understand myself and what I have been changed into as a result of being someone who lived through a certain thing. There’s someone else out there, who lived through something else. As I acknowledge their path, I look at my own and find it unrecognizable. I have my own memories, and they are often unbearable. And yet I live, and I wonder how, and I wonder why. This “why,” I think, is why I don’t sleep anymore.
Korean artist Jay Knife uses ukelele, vocal loops, and an iPad to translate her personal experiences into honest, heartfelt pop music. Bandcamp New & Notable Feb 4, 2021
Cermony's Ross John Farrar experiments with synths, bass, & percussion to make music similar to that from the '80s homemade tape scene. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 30, 2023
More sunny melodies and folk-infused indie arrangements from the Canadian trio, exploring themes of intimacy and existentialism. Bandcamp New & Notable Mar 9, 2022
