A thing and its corresponding lesson

There are those indie rock songs you hear and it's love at first listen, right? Like if there was a soundtrack to your life, that would be playing during the scene where you're driving, plaintively, with a sunset in the background. Last early Saturday morning, driving back from the airport with the benefit of XMU (please don't make me say SiriusXMU), Bon Iver's soon-to-be-released "Blood Bank" comes on, and whammo. I'm hooked. I listened to the 30 seconds on Amazon for awhile and then forgot until yesterday, when I went to CD Alley (cutest Ryan was working) and got my hands on the EP.

It's a good, mournful, repetetive, reverb-y indie rock story song, plaintive guitars, Justin Vernon's falsetto voice dubbed in many echo-y, harmonious parts . . . in other words, the exact formula that makes me fall madly in love. I had heard that he recorded the album almost exclusively in a remote cabin in the Wisconsin woods in the middle of winter, which, despite being just so hipster artist as a story goes, still produced this result, so I can't hold on to that too long. Then there's a little note in the liner that it was partially recorded somewhere in Raleigh, so that seemed good - maybe he's a North Carolina boy? Bonus.

I'm late to the Bon Iver worship service, because now he's been in the New Yorker and on Rolling Stone's list of whatever, but no matter. It's still nice to know some things, such as he is not a North Carolina boy, but an Eau Claire, Wisconsin boy, and was in Raleigh for awhile experimenting in other bands, getting his heart broken, and getting mono that did something to his liver.

When I first saw Bon Iver on the artist name display, I had the following thought process: 1) Either he spelled the French hiver wrong, or it's a similar word in another language who also has bon as good; 2) Man, that reminds me of the fabulous Northern Exposure episode when the Cicelians wish each other "Bon Hiver!" (Good Winter!) at the first snow, which I don't happen to agree with; 3) Man, it really bugs me that it's spelled wrong; 4) This is a really great song.

Turns out that Justin Vernon also watched Northern Exposure because of the liver thing, and changed the hiver spelling because it reminded him of liver. Which . . . you're that kind of dude, but whatever, I forgive you. I'm sure it was a bad time for you. There's more to know about Justin Vernon, and it's worth knowing, but I am trying to get around to my point, which is this: I really wanted to tell someone this story. I've told the internet, now, in the guise of making a point, so that's kind of cheating the lesson, but what I mean to say is that I had this weird revelation that this right here is why people partner up in life. This pretty flimsy and boring story of silly connections (" . . . and then I thought this, and it reminded me of this") is a lot how I see the world; I like it when things remind me of other things, especially things I remember with fondness. I like when people look like other people I've known in other places, I like it when short stories remind me of movies or scenes from a car window remind me of home. But even your best people don't want to hear about that junk all the time. I had this vision that if you have a spouse who is more or less interested in how your mind works, you could call him whenever and tell this story and he would care. Or at least, he would know that it's the kind of thing you would be dumping in his lap from time to time, for the rest of his life, and he was fine with it.