The song I first wanted to blog last night was the one above. Outside is inside, feeling is nothing, emptiness is guitar strum and Caitlin Cary wailing, the rain that comes down is sound enough to sing enough to dream for or against anything surrounding. The bigger picture matters, but not so much as the end of the thought, the end of the storm. But I couldn’t find any of this to say last night, and I spent an hour or two finding four lines to write about a Faces’ deep cut. I got to learn about the Jeff Beck Group, find out what a plinth was, wonder what Shelley and Trafalgar Square meant decades ago, and take a guess as to why we don’t know anything. Some level of understanding was enough to end the day. People think knowledge is what counts, and that’s not it. Understanding something, anything, seems to be more what it takes to be okay, and if there isn’t someone, you need something. I started work early tonight, on the hustle to Metro. Breathless cold, no good.