yesterday was the sixth anniversary of the end of truly important singer-songwriters. six years ago yesterday, elliott smith was found dead by his girlfriend, with two stab wounds in his chest. it is unclear whether the death was suicide. some speculate his girlfriend murdered him. i don’t care either way. all that matters to me is that he’s gone and he will never write another song.
after weeks of planning to honor him, i forgot. i didn’t realize it until today, but on top of forgetting, i also had a pretty bad day. i found out i needed glasses, the music room was closed, there was a fire drill during my free period, i started intensely disliking many of the people i am supposed to be friends with, and i tried to talk about it with someone who didn’t, will never, and can never respond. then i came home and was depressed for what felt like practically no reason. it was like the universe was saying "this is the day elliott died. he was one of few who understood the unfathomable infinity and sadness, and therefore, i am not going to try to make today work. those of you who know his music will understand, and i am sorry if your day sucks because of it, but i can’t get out of bed today because i am huddled here with my head under the covers, trying not to cry.”
or maybe that’s just me.