once upon a time there was a little girl whose dad brought her to kindergarten every morning because mama was tired with the baby. at the coffeeshop he always let her eat the streusel off the top of the coffeecake muffin & in the car he always played chet baker songs. when she asked about them he said that they were the songs he had listened to when he was first in love with her mother. it was not until she was twenty three and listening to them stoned with her third boyfriend that the incongruity of this was pressed upon her attention. “dude, like what was your mom doing to this poor guy when they met?” but by that point, she had already gotten used to doing what made others want to listen to sad songs.
This is so weird, I have the opposite association for similar reasons: my uncle, with whom i spent some of my most pleasant and stepfather-free moments, used to like him a lot and for me it always felts serene/comforting more than sad/melancholy/painful.
(it was mostly the "Chet Baker Sings" and the bossa one with Getz, but now even the last live in Rome feels cosy)
This is so weird, I have the opposite association for similar reasons: my uncle, with whom i spent some of my most pleasant and stepfather-free moments, used to like him a lot and for me it always felts serene/comforting more than sad/melancholy/painful.
(it was mostly the "Chet Baker Sings" and the bossa one with Getz, but now even the last live in Rome feels cosy)
❤️