Today, I’m having a Leonard Cohen day kinda, shuffling my feet under my desk and letting his ole tattered ribbon of tune take me where it may.
I remember the first time I heard a Leonard Cohen song, on a road trip into the High Sierras with one miss Annie Fast. She had that compilation I'm Your Fan, all of our favorite indie bands doing cool Cohen covers. The Pixies playing "I Can't Forget"—well I never do forget how good it is. Anyway, this moment, on this trip, was a tiny pinhole turning point. When I got home, I started unraveling his discography like a thread—like you did back then, buying records, one by one until you had a big stack. His songs are like paintings, they capture the light. The more I listened, the more I got the witchy sense that this old gypsy poet was my spirit guide. More accurately, I (a lost and lonesome little girl)—well I wished he was my spirit guide.
Here's to Leonard. To Mr. Cohen. What an amazing mind. Thank you for always illuminating the biggest mysteries, which are really just the simplest mysteries—the ones we're faced with every single day.