One of the more positive developments in my life this year has been my discovery of Queens of the Stone Age. I was able to see them perform (with another favorite of mine, Royal Blood) in August. They were awesome. Queens is a more eclectic Foo Fighters, heavy in moments, tender in others, but also distinct.
Josh Homme’s lyrics can be particularly powerful, and of late I am dwelling on a few lines from “The Way You Used To Do”:
Is love mental disease or lucky fever dream?
Fine with either
Yeah, that about sums it up.
I did not expect, upon entering 2017, that’d I find the love of my life, but here we are. I so clearly identify with Homme’s point — what the hell is this? Love is ridiculous, it’s like a roller coaster that doesn’t end, full of inescapable fear and untouchable highs. It’s the most glorious thing.
I didn’t know what I was missing. But even if I have to be insane to fall in love, and even if this is all but a dream that shall fade, I’m happily here, and I’m happily hers.
If the world exploded behind us
I never noticed if it done
Let nobody dare confine us
I’ll bury anyone who does
Yep. It seems like love has this unique way of focusing you, burning off the dross and solidifying your concerns.
My heart, a ding-a-ling
A puppet on a string
C’est la vie
So lay your hands across my beating heart, love
There’s an eager vulnerability with all this, a willingness to accept unmanageable risk because the payoff is extraordinary. We’ve both had to reconcile that, and it doesn’t come easily. But, some of our more special moments have come upon the acceptance. Yes, she can break my heart, and yes, I can break hers, but accepting that risk is fundamental to the experience. That isn’t to say someone is getting hurt here — you think I’d be writing this if I was riddled with doubts? — but rather to acknowledge the reality because the entire portrait must be taken into account.
Love is like driving on the highway in the dark, and it’s raining, and the wipers aren’t working. It’s dangerous, it’s scary, you’ll probably be scarred a little in the best-case, and worst-case you fly off the road. As someone who’s already flown off the road, I’m weary but also experienced. I lived. I have scars — I see them all the time — but I lived.
The darkness has passed. Now, I see this opportunity for what it is, a chance at something special, and so I drive on, eager to see what happens.