just my kind of hope

Had a crazy day, a whole range of emotions and feelings thrown in today. Some edited highlights included hanging out with the jet setter since 6am, trying to fix stereo cable that was chewed off by little ol’ Pluto the hamster. Finishing off a brilliant political spy thriller by John Le Carre, drinking coffee. Driving around counting the circus posters, and getting all sad reading the Daily Mail (don’t ask) and watching part of a football match I don’t understand. Trains to Germany. Flights to Spain. Our Children French film. Intensity. Fragments of a day I can’t keep.

But that’s not why you’re here. You’re here to listen to this super rad song by the always inspiring, always brilliant Kathleen Hanna. It’s a little love song to her husband, and it might just melt your heart. I’m putting it up because of course it’s cooooool, but also because Ms Hanna is suffering a relapse from the Lyme Disease that crippled le tigre a few years ago, and she’s had to cancel her European tour. I spent a blissful childhood in a kind of wild forest, I was always out – hours every day – running around and exploring the forest with my dogs, and ticks were part of life but I never thought a tick bite could really destroy your life. I hope she’s better soon.

“The punk singer” a documentary about Bikini Kill, Le Tigre, Kathleen Hanna is out on dvd on 23 June, and I’ve already reserved my copy.

Talking of “rock” dvds, I saw Mark Kozelek’s the other day rich which was full of subtle, beautiful, intoxicating sadness and hopeful daydreams of lost memories and the passing of time. Perfect for days like these.

xo

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