Hozier kick, Part II. Also Delta Rae.

“The way she shows me I’m hers and she is mine
Open hand or closed fist would be fine
Blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.”

This boy…Now that I know what this song is about, and have seen the video, I can barely get through it.

It is so powerful it hurts.

I don’t mean to diminish physical abuse.  Ever.  But, if I could…join in…this is also me — and thousands like me — who suffer(ed) from emotional abuse.

“And it’s worth it, it’s divine
I have this some of the time.”

The beautiful part of that kind of a relationship is what it makes the swing of the pendulum to the opposite side so heartrending.  So tragically disappointing.  So easily deniable.  There is never the rare beauty of the one side without the bitter rage of the other.   And if you decide to leave, you are the cause of the rare, sweet wine’s death.  It is collateral damage to the death of the hot, smarting physical and/or emotional wounds.  That’s just the way it has to be.

If you don’t know that, well my friend, I hope you will soon.

The beauty of Cherry Wine’s perfection hurts just as much, and just like, Delta Rae’s Dance in the Graveyards hurt when my father passed away:

“And while I’m alive,
I don’t want to be alone mourning the ones who came before
I want to dance with them some more”

Listening to this artistry hurts like…like something I haven’t been able to describe yet.  Maybe like fucking waxing your whole body.

But a truth, exposed in a way many of us can share, helps us heal, no matter how close to the bone it is.

Long live songwriters and other artists who heal.

 

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Babe, there’s something tragic about you. Something so magic about you. Don’t you agree?

Image result for hozier

Yes.  And “yes” no matter who we’re talking about.

Obsessed with Hozier, especially the song, From Eden, that starts that way.

Not obsessed like a screaming fan,

more like in awe of the poetic brilliance of his lyrics.

Not to say his voice and looks aren’t…unique accompaniments.  Thank you for choosing a ponytail and not a man-bun.

I’m trying to think of this post from the eyes of my daughter, who is more in the vein of a screaming fan.

I creep me out, then, but an older woman should be able to express her admiration for a younger talented man.

What seems to make it creepier is that I want to know EVERYTHING about him.  She doesn’t.  She says it ruins her enjoyment if she knows too much about an artist.

Just so you know:  He’s Irish (turn of phrase goes to you guys), child of a blues musician, given name is Andrew Hozier-Byrne, very tall, and seems very sweet to fans.  So far.

Go listen if you haven’t yet…

My daughter has my permission to pursue a relationship with him.

See?  Yep, still creepy.  Sorry!