Two things happened this week: I got a call from someone special, someone that I had not heard from in more than a month, someone that I had once considered having a long-term relationship with.
And I listened to the Manic Street Preachers quite a bit.
The Manics kick isn't unusual; more than ever, more than any other band, I play their songs when I feel a bit vulnerable.
When James sings "Under neon loneliness, everlasting nothingness" in "Motorcycle Emptiness" and his guitar spirals into the heavens seemingly at odds with the dejection of those lyrics, it's a profound thing.
And it makes me feel oddly hopeful despite that "everlasting nothingness" line.
I hear that moment and remain convinced that the Manics are the Anti-U2. U2 strut on stage -- on the world-stage -- like they have some answers to the big questions of life.
They never seem vulnerable, nor do they ever seem genuinely unsure of themselves.
The Manics, despite their intellectualism, despite their sometimes big ideas, remain 3 guys from Wales creating anthems of the self.
"I know I believe in nothing but it is my nothing."
Indeed.
It's a testament to their combined talents that their songs are sometimes such uplifting things.
Which brings us to "You Stole The Sun From My Heart" which is, for me at least, a tremendously joyous affair, never mind that the lyrics seem to be blaming someone.
"You have broken through my armour/And I don't have an answer/I love you all the same"
I think I now understand those words.
Even though talking to her makes me a bit sad -- mainly 'cause I know the relationship was/is doomed -- I'm always a little bit flattered that she calls all the way from Hong Kong, even after I've cooled my jets a bit.
More than anyone else that I met on my HK trips, she's shared something with me, even if it didn't quite turn into the sort of relationship I wanted.
"You have broken through my armour/And I don't have an answer/I love you all the same"
It might be harder for me to let down my guard again, to let someone break through "my armour" and all that.
But no regrets here.
Just a certain wistfulness. And gratitude that I have some special memories.
