It's possible (however improbable) that some of you were expecting Mount Everest's five year anniversary extravaganza this week. You'll note that this post is not really an extravaganza at all, which is proper because this week isn't Mount Everest's five year anniversary at all. Why would somebody be expecting an anniversary extravaganza when this isn't the anniversary? Because I've been counting Mount Everest's anniversaries all wrong since I started this project. I've been marking each anniversary every time I reach a week that is a multiple of 52 (like this week), which is wrong because there aren't precisely 52 weeks per year. Over the past five years this has caused the anniversary to drift backward on the calendar, an old error spotted by my wife. Thank you wife! To that end, if you're disappointed that there isn't an extravaganza to be found this week, be here two weeks from now for Mount Everest's real five year anniversary!
This song picks up from the past couple of weeks' exploration of slow music. Last week I accounted for my recent interest in slowness by citing an affinity for the quiet sections of film scores. This week I'm chalking it up to feeling a little down. This is a sad autumn song for a sad autumn day. It takes its pace from the world winding down for the year. We're entering the patient part of the calendar. It's time to take our time.
lyrics
Write it down
And never read it
Never ever look
Just know that it's there
I could lie
And you'd believe me
And for that
I love to tell you the truth
Shake the limb
And all the branches
All at once let go
Of that which they held