May 30, 2019:
All Things Must Pass.
At the time I detested that record. That sound: the Phil Spector bombast. The pompous posturing at wisdom.
In the last few years its atmosphere of bittersweet has found a home in me. Loss plus hope; optimism tempered by the reality of transience. Where saccharine verbal mysticism is balanced by passion and pain in the eloquent guitar.
It speaks to me today after this week's loss. The little relationship that almost was. Blink and you'll miss it. Not so much transient as fleeting.