Tonight when I couldn’t sleep I was wandering around the virtual world and intermittently taking things out of this puppy’s mouth while she hung out with me in my studio, and I came to visit Sail to the Moon. Maybe because this white dog is so like the moon. Note to self: moon as dog = English bull terrier.
One song. Just play it over an over again. Listen and watch different versions, so many versions! Le Reservoir. Jonny’s, the way he looks when he plays, making me cry. Well, that kind of thing happens at four in the morning. The song has brought me out of myself and into the moment, but not the present moment, the moment that was captured in the video. Not that moment either, of course my mind’s recreation of that moment as if I’d been there. Weird. Here I am at Glastonbury. Not.
Thom’s wearing four wristbands in the unplugged version. I think about wristbands and what’s so cool and so weird about them. They kind of remind me of the tags farmers put in cow’s ears to identify them and yet I still have my own Coachella wristbands on for the past two years because …. Well, because I do. The moon – I mean the puppy – ate most of my Club Amok band when it fell off earlier tonight.
Versions with comments entirely in Spanish. A comment on another version with some guy saying he’s learning piano just to play Radiohead. I understand. Ohmygod there is a version with some chick doing dancy acrobatics in a sheet hanging from the ceiling while a kind of jazz band riffs away. WTF????? Brothers in their underwear playing in their living room, the light coming through yellow curtains is gorgeous and they actually look like a painting that someone ought to do. This actually makes the thing worth watching.
Back to Radiohead. The album version. I want to eat this song. Bite by bite until I am full of the moon. And it gets to be five in the morning. So I listen to one more version. Not Radiohead. Warren Lain. Beautiful.
And I can finally go to sleep.