What Am I Going To Do With Everything I Know – The Weather Station

Tamara Lindeman returns with a soft-spoken reflection on maturity and on love.

When do we become conscious of the passing of time? The first signs of autumn: the stiffness of cold creeping into the fingertips. Even the most careless passing actions form habits: potential becomes kinetic, dreams become narrative, actions define us, form the lines on our skin and hands.

Lindeman writes with a casual openness, a comfortable intimacy. “What am I going to do with everything I know?” she asks. The firmness of her intonation here is a sharp contrast to the whispered tailings of her singing, the plaintive moan of steel strings longing for simplicity. Even as we tip on this fulcrum we are still more dream than reality.

Indeed, we find depicted here the realization of a fascinating and mature relationship. Lindeman provides a strong and concise character who falls in love with a vulnerable man. The adult-ness of their communication is a refreshing deviation from any more dramatic proclamation of love; the non-speak and mind-read and casual touches of a live-in partner define their relationship. Even the proposal that seals their direction is a casual word from the side of the mouth, a gentle toss to a knowing receiver: soft enough not to bruise, firm enough to be caught.

Endings are the cost of direction, beginnings are the function of maturity. We choose to control our directions or find ourselves adrift. We are all moving.

This is a record to savour and to internalize: stare into its surface until you recognize a reflection.


Argue with us:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s