nails

My favorite song is Kaki King's "Nails." It is a hidden track on her second album. I mean, this is my absolute favorite song. Ever. It is the most intense piece of music I have ever heard. It is not intense in the way, say, gospel music is, but in the way where I feel like I'm just going to die when I listen to it. It is the most beautiful song, really. It is just painful and sad and beautiful. It is dark and ugly and soothing. It is just amazing. The most amazing thing I have ever heard. I've been obsessed with music my entire life and I've never had a favorite song until now. I listen to it every night. I will literally just sit and listen to it over and over again for hours. I have done this ever since first hearing it and I will probably do it until the moment I die. And when I am not listening to it in stereo, it is reverberating through my body. Always.

I first heard it over the summer. I had had the CD for a while, but never knew of this hidden track. One night in Portland, a few nights before I moved to the east coast, I was listening to the CD in my discman and noticed the CD didn't stop after the last listed track, "My Insect Life," had finished. So I waited a few minutes to hear what the hidden track was going to be like, but didn't get my hopes up; hidden tracks are usually hidden for a reason. But the song began to fade in and I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was so beautiful and painful. It was like those first few moments after you've realized you've fallen in love with someone. Where you feel like the your life will never be the same again.

It was a stressful time. I had quit my job, shipped most of my belongings to my parents in California, and was going to move across the country to be with a girl I had only met once before. It was the craziest thing I had ever done, and I've done a lot of really insane shit. I only had the clothes I was wearing, what clothes I could fit in my suitcase, my discman, and a book full of CDs. More important, I was in love with a beautiful girl and she was in love with me.

My last day in Portland was exciting and sad and tense. My roommates had been out of town for a while, so I had been taking care of the cat and the pet rat and taking care of the house on top of making sure I wasn't forgetting anything for the move. My flight was to leave Portland for SLC at 6:30 pm and I needed to take the bus to the bus station and then board the train to the airport. All of which would take at least an hour-and-a-half. Not to mention schlepping my suitcase to the bus stop, onto the bus, off the bus, onto the train, off the train, etc. So I cleaned my room, cleaned the house, left my roommates a note telling them it was great living with them, let the cat out, made sure the rat had some food in her bowl, obsessively checked drawers and underneath the bed to make sure I wasn't forgetting something, etc. and got myself ready to leave at 3:30. 3:20 rolls around and I'm about to go but before I do I unzip my suitcase, take out my discman, plug it in (rechargeable batteries are worthless) and listen to "Nails" just one more time. I think about what I'm doing. I realize it's crazy. I'm scared. I feel irresponsible. She e-mailed me that morning expressing doubt. She's never lived with anyone before. She says she is sorry for asking me to give up everything for her. She is afraid it won't work out. She is afraid she is fucking my life up. She is sorry for freaking out now, on the day I am flying out. A little while later she sends another e-mail and says she is a horrible person and please just disregard everything she said previously and that she is just afraid because she has never lived with anyone before. She says she is really happy I'm coming and that she can't wait to see me again. These e-mails make me think that everything is over, but what can I do about it now? My roommates are expecting an empty house when they return. I quit my job. I bought a plane ticket weeks ago. It's too late.

The CD stops spinning and I take my headphones off. I unplug my discman and pack it again. I schlep my suitcase through the house and out the front door. I lock the door and put the key in the mailbox. I light a cigarette and drag my suitcase to the bus stop. "Nails" is on repeat in my head. I drown out all ambient noise; I just want this beautiful music.

I leave Portland. I fly to Salt Lake. I fly through the night to Newark, NJ. That morning I fly from Newark to Hartford, CT, where she is waiting for me.