deep in the ocean, there lies a wave for you

Today was my last day at Dischord.

When I started there, I was a lost, unemployed puppy. I can’t remember how I filled all of the hours in a day when I had no job. There was lots of Hulu and Netflix and lots of Sticky Fingers and yoga and crying about the loss of two major parts of my identity: my job and Clark.

When I took over the mail order department, I was elated. I communicated daily with people who love the label as much as I do. They were always so excited to have a person on the other end of the phone or email to provide a deeper connection to the music they love so much, and that person was me. They wanted to state their preferences and they wanted to hear mine and I was happy to tell them (The Argument, The Unanimous Hour, 1986, In Mass Mind).

Most importantly, I could be a zombie one day and cry my eyes out the next day and they all understood why. I didn’t have to explain anything to them; they had all witnessed it in some way. On the first anniversary of Clark’s death, I came into work and told Alec about it. He said, “I’ve got a little story for your day.” Clark and the Motorcycle Wars had borrowed Alec’s band’s van ten years or so before, and when they returned it to him, there were pictures of genitalia hidden in EVERYWHERE – under the seats, etc. I loved that story, and he had known that I would.

Over the months, parts of my brain came out of hibernation. I began to try to figure out my post-Clark identity. What am I good at? What do I want to be doing? The tasks at Dischord weren’t occupying my mind anymore. I needed to use the skills I’d worked so hard to develop pre-caretaker.

Monday, I’ll be a journalist again. I’ll make enough money to not have to work a second job as much as I do now. I’ll be able to devote more time to writing my book.

I cried very hard hugging Ian goodbye. I know I’ll see him very soon, probably within the next week or so. “You are so loved by so many people,” he said to me today. Dischord is a house of love, and I have left, and that merited a good pile of tears.