Top Five Tuesday :: Mazzy Star
The inclusion of Mazzy Star’s song Into Dust in this past Sunday’s 666 Park Avenue had me spinning around a Mazzy Star frenzy, pushing play on each album, and repeat on my favorite songs of theirs. It did not take much of this to decide that this week’s Top Five Tuesday would be dedicated to Mazzy Star. So, without further ado, here are my five Mazzy Star favorites of all-time, at least so far:
5. Flowers in December
A cool room, mid-October with the shades drawn, but the window cracked ever so slightly, we lay entwined together, wordless, breathless. We were not making any promises to each other, we were just there in the moment, together, in each other’s arms. Thinking back, I am sure I loved you, though I would never say those words. Looking back through the memory recall that this song brings, I think you probably loved me, too. By December you would no longer look my way. The smell of jasmine and vanilla would have me back in that room, with you, but I would try to push the thought up and out of me.
Sometimes I wonder what became of you, and in those times I find myself wondering whether you ever got brave enough to stay with what, and who, you truly wanted. Perhaps you wonder the same about me.
Back then, we were led by our desires, but chased away by our fears. What would it have been like if even one of us had been brave?
4. Five String Serenade
On the night that you gave me the silver ring you asked me to dance with you. We were at this small restaurant on the top floor overlooking city lights, some place you had read about in a half-torn LA Weekly. It was dark inside, candle lit tables, with a band playing in the corner. They were something out of a David Lynch film, as was the look of the place with the red leather booths and the black and red tiled floors. I said yes to the dance, and to your proposal.
That night, in that dark little place, you spun me around the room. We were the only two on the dance floor, though an older couple eventually joined us. This is the only time I ever remember feeling so at home in your arms.
You asked me to leave the ring behind. I left it folded up in the note you had propped up by the door. Funny, you were the one who did the physical leaving, though you would forever pin the finality to me. By then we had forgotten what we ever had seen in the two of us together, all that was left was crinkled papers, bitter words, and a returned ring. You would tell all our friends that I had led you astray and then left you in the ruins to run off with someone else, but it was you who grabbed my hand and ran us straight into an oncoming train. I had warned you that my heart would not be able to withstand the impact, but you chose not to believe me. You thought my heart was made of icicles, but I have always been of softer stuff.
2. Fade Into You
Maybe you remember that trip up the coast and the tiny motel room we stayed at right around the corner from that rundown carnival. I felt sick after the spinning tilt-a-whirl ride, not aware yet that I held our baby inside me. You held my hand as we walked back to our room, leaving me only briefly to run and get something from the vending machine to settle my stomach. You kissed me ligthly on the forehead and told me you loved me, as I fell asleep with my head in your lap, the sound of calliope music in the distance.
I wonder if you remember that night with me at all.
1. Into Dust
The car ride away from what was once our place was the longest I could remember. I watched it all fade into nothing from the rear view mirror like some kind of movie, tears streaming down my face. There were regrets, how could there not be, but mostly there was this overwhelming feeling of being finally free. The last thing I saw before turning the corner was the porch light’s flicker, the bulb just about ready to die, and then there was nothing but the road in front of me; nothing but life in front of me.