Music – 3

The music in this one is, for the most part, forgettable to me, and fades into the background. There is a kind of funny ‘Psycho-esque’ sound of violins that he uses in the background, and in between the verses. I find it strange, but like how it works in the song. I’d put it in my top ten Billy Joel song sound effects, potentially even adding it to a soundboard. He’s reclaiming the scary violin haha.

His singing in this one is bang-on as far as I’m concerned. His singing is unique enough that it distinctly sounds like him, he’s using his range, he’s expressive, he’s passionate, he sounds like he’s having a good time. So overall I’m happy with his vocals on this.

I find the chorus catchy, and was singing it to myself this week. This is always a huge plus for me, and most of the points in this category are from that, because overall the song is pretty forgettable musically, for me. I also hate the guitar solo.

So overall, three points for having good singing and for being catchy, but it’s losing points for being boring.

Poetry – 2

Okay so half the lyrics are great. The title for example, ‘blonde over blue’ is a three word phrase, but is memorable, unique, and evocative. I was really moved by “your hands are cold / your eyes are fire / … / they shine as though you’re burning inside” and “one word from you is all I need to be inspired / … / I need your inspiration tonight”. I think both of those are great and beautiful, and played a large role in inspiring the way I wrote this weeks story.

Then we get to the other half of the lyrics. And let’s just say I’m not a fan. I hate when he sounds like a curmudgeon, or someone waving their fist at the world. It’s always so shallow in the way he writes it, and I always wonder, who’s being convinced by this? Oh? No one? Yeah, just as I guessed. The worst offenders of course being songs like “It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me” or the song that I shall not mention (WDStF).

So what should the score be? Well, I’m not moved enough by the chorus that it overcomes the verses, so it’s going to be a two from me.

Change – 1

This song is the same throughout.

Insight – 1

Well there’s a part where he gets kind of preachy, which I’ve always hated. I think he can be incredibly insightful when it comes to people, relationships, living life, but I think he fails at cultural commentary almost all the time.

I don’t consider this an insightful song, I think it just has some beautiful lyricism. He’s commenting on “you” and “us”, aka the most commonly covered theme in music, so no points there either.

Good – 2

Well, this is a tough one. I have to go with a two. I like the song a lot, in fact look at how early in the Blog it shows up. But I like almost all of his songs ‘a lot’, so that’s not saying much when it comes to the scoring system. I wouldn’t play this for someone who doesn’t already like Billy Joel, and I wouldn’t include it on a deep cuts playlist. I do have nostalgia for it, and I sing it to myself. But that’s why it’s getting a two and not a one.

“Welcome. Just a reminder that check out is at 5 p.m., and there is no late check out because the hotel is going to be demolished at 6 p.m.. There will also be no maid service for that reason. Enjoy your stay, you’re going to be in room 432.”

In the elevator ride up you reach over and hold my hand. I can barely contain my excitement. It’s been over fourteen years since we’ve seen each other, and I’ve spent every single one of them dreaming of this moment with you. 

“Which floor do I press?”

“Four.”

“I didn’t hear a word she said.”

“Me neither to be honest.” 

We lock eyes. I forget to press the elevator button. We don’t notice, having fallen deeply into a stare that is telling a very long story. You start leaning down to me, and I break our eye contact to bashfully look down at the floor. It’s all so much. I try to busy myself with the buttons. 

“Wait, sorry, which floor?”

“Four.”

“Right. Haha got distracted.”

“Me too.” 

Before you and I ever had to use words to talk, I saw sugar cubes on your mother’s tray and I thought that tea with you would never need more sweetness. The smell of the fresh wood in the house and the summer heat made it impossible to sleep under our wool blankets. Our bodies were wet and covered in sand laying on the shore of the lake as dragonflies flew above us. One flew into my mouth and laid a permanent memory of this moment for me and I thanked it. You told me you missed me when I was gone, and invited me to the sauna with you to be hot and sweaty. The steam rested on your chest while your father chopped logs in the yard. We had been drinking the summer sun and bicycle rides when the sun would set over the woods around us. The birch trees kept my secret smiles and glances to themselves, and trust radiated from the wet soil. 

We walk down the hotel hallway, and I can see at the end that they have already started demolishing the building. The hotel sits alone in the middle of a field. Pulling up I saw a wrecking ball swinging at it, and your car, the only one in the parking lot. I felt butterflies knowing you were already so close. I walked into the lobby as construction crews were taking apart the entrance. 

“It’s funny that they’re demolishing the hotel,” I say. 

“Yes, I thought the same thing.”

“And it’s nice to see you again.”

“I’ve never been happier. I missed you.”

My heart jumps into my throat and I cough, caught off guard by your willingness to be so vulnerable with me. 

My feet anxiously dug up the sand in front of me on the shore as I avoided your eyes. I could tell how often you were looking over at my face, but I didn’t have anything to say. Well, I had many things to say, all the time, but I had none of them available to me at this moment. Your presence causing me to lose all train of thought. So I pretended to be very invested in staring at the lake. Although it was a picturesque summer day, we were the only ones on the lake, and I had almost nothing to reasonably stare at. 

You were both too close, and too far from me.  

We enter our room, which despite the chaos of the hotel, is completely indistinguishable from a normal room. The distant sound of a drill seems to be the only thing giving away the outside world. 

“Should we change rooms? Will the sound bother you?”

“We’re not here that long. Plus, it’s not like we’re going to be trying to sleep.” 

You laugh at this. The sound causes me to turn and face you. I hadn’t realized how much I had missed it. We once again fall into each other’s eyes. 

The lake shone bright under the sun, straight into my eyes, but I didn’t look away. Your hand rested gently on the log next to me. I always thought you had the most beautiful hands I had ever seen. I considered if I could somehow play off brushing against them, but my face got hot with just the embarrassment of the thought. 

“What did you just think about? Your face went weird.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?” you tease playfully. 

I push your shoulder with mine. 

Your hand reaches out to take my jacket from me and hang it up, and even after all these years you have the most perfect hands I’ve ever seen. I brush my fingers against them as I pass you my hat and scarf, you continue to stare intently at my face. 

You lean back on the log, kick your feet up, your legs long and sunburnt. I can tell you are still trying to make eye contact with me. 

“Do you want to see something?” you ask.

“Depends. What is it?” 

You jump up and run off into the woods. I follow, yelling at you to slow down because I can’t run as fast. 

You continue to gain speed, increasing the distance between us. I’m running after you, breathing heavily. I step on branches and rocks, but can’t stop in case I lose sight of you completely. You’re weaving in between the birch trees. Finally, in my clumsiness, I trip, and fall, landing on my back, but somehow you’re right next to me only a couple seconds later. The excitement on your face makes me not want to complain about how much that fall had hurt. I also try to hide my panting from the run.  

“Look. Look at what I found.”

You gently lift my head off the ground to show me a bed sitting in the middle of a field. 

We sit on the miniature hotel couch, talking. Your hand rests next to mine. The bed sits directly in front of us, and I’m trying to avoid glancing at it. 

You ask me what I want, a perpetually torturous question in my life. 

“I want this. I want you. I’ve waited a very long time for you.”

I’m avoiding making eye contact again, considering how it keeps going. I’m certain if I meet your eyes it will be a point of no return. 

“Do you know how I feel about you?” I ask. 

“Yes.”

“Is it crazy?”

“No.”

“Do you feel the same?”

“Yes.”

We run over to the bed, confused by its fully made up appearance. The white sheets are fresh, and tucked in neatly, as though made up by a hotel staff ten minutes before we got here. I climb up on top and start jumping on it. You join me, grabbing a pillow and trying to knock me off. I swing back, and for a moment we struggle in this way to see who is going to win. 

“Say it. Say it to me. Now.” 

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” you turn my face to meet yours, and I tell you:

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That you don’t feel the same.”

“That’s easy. I do. Now say it.”

I climb under the blanket, and you follow. We are laying on our sides, facing each other, breathing heavily from earlier. The sun is shining through the comforter with a warm yellow glow. Your face is only an inch or two from mine. I look into your eyes, and you look into mine. Our breath syncs up and I’m smiling at you. I seem to be unable to stop smiling.  

And there you are again, and it is like no time has passed at all. 

The bed in the field, us hiding under the sheet, looking into each other’s eyes. 

“I love you,” 

and without waiting for me to finish, you say:

“I love you too.”

By the time we manage to look away from each other’s faces, and stick our heads out from under the blanket, the hotel is completely gone, having been fully demolished, and all that is left is you and me, the bed, and the field.