Keep Art Alive :: Art by Jason Levesque

I knew I was never gonna talk to you tomorrow,
and oh, the birds how they sing.
If you were a bird could you sing me a song of sorrow?
‘Cause all I know from you is grief.”

In the thick haze of early morning Los Angeles traffic, in a messed up truck that’s not even her’s, Jane finds herself feeling sick of just about everything. Especially herself. “Touch, Feel and Lose” comes trickling out of the stereo. She reaches for the sound, turning it up until the crackling speakers begin to shake.

Ryan and his blues. They slip out and swirl around the cab of this messed up truck that’s not even her’s. For a moment Jane feels a little bit saved.

Loving someone who’s still in love with someone else. Good god. How stupid could she be? It’s the stuff of over-wrought tragedies, of tear-jerkers, of teen paperbacks and bad country songs. It’s too ridiculous to ever cry about.

Nevertheless, she starts to cry right as the chorus kicks in.

Strong arms and soulful eyes. You can mistake them for love, she thinks. Wrap yourself all up in a kind smile and broad shoulders. Curl up with a temporary fix. That’s all she’d said he was. Temporary.

So why is shaking like a junkie in week one of rehab?

The sun cuts through the morning muck turning smog into a kind of breathtaking brilliance. Everything ugly turns beautiful under the pink LA sky. In the right light, in the right key, with the window down and the volume up, it’s all so fucking beautiful.

Even this messed up truck that’s not hers.

Even Jane.

Touch, Feel and Lose (live) :: Ryan Adams

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