blue songs on a grey day

something about hearing an abba song first thing in the morning makes me inexplicably happy, as does bob dylan following it with it's all over now, baby blue. sometimes the shuffle feature, and a cup of coffee, is enough to get me by. bob is singing tangled up in blue now. this is one of those songs that hits deep beneath the surface, a story that is not mine, but still resonates somehow. i would put it up there with famous blue raincoat as my storytelling musical favorites.

i would love to pen a story about jane. perhaps she met up with bob on the road, or in the topless bar; perhaps he wore a raincoat and gave her a rose before he left her that rainy morning. the rose, she pressed it between the pages of a well-worn copy of on the road, the one she tucked in every bag she took with her everywhere. it has a hole at the bottom, a seam that tore open on a bus up the coast, she patched it up with crimson thread.

now i wonder if there is a blue theme to my day. the sky outside the office window looks grey and overcast, one of those mornings that seem so bleak, but that everyone assures each other will burn off by the afternoon. i just sorted a playlist by the word blue. do you ever do that? pick a word and see what it brings? the blue songs bring to mind blue characters, blue from desert blue, blue from old school and how that became my younger brother's nickname when he went to university because he was older than his roommates. perhaps jane goes by the name azure when she dances at the topless place, a connection back to that blue raincoat, the last glimpse of him that she caught as the bus pulled away.

and this, my friends, is how my mind works.

it's all over now, baby blue ~ bob dylan