Where is my album "O"?

Stumbled across "The Blower's Daughter" on tv today while watching a drama series (case in point that I'm addicted to all drama series that have good music, but will leave that to another blog) and within the first chords of the song, "And so it is...", the one single underlying thought in my head was, "I have that song... what album is it in my iPod?" I'd managed to isolate it down to Damien Rice (classic voice you gotta love the man for his voice, not his looks), but somehow, my iPod houses only "9" and the song came from "O".

So now. That is one of my favourite albums of all time. And I just can't find it. Together with the other albums that I've lost - Tori Amos's From the Choirgirl Hotel (my favourite Tori album of all time also) and Tori Amos's To Venus and Back Disc 1 (following on with a close second of favourite Tori albums and strangely enough I have Disc 2, the one I don't like). It's missing. Together with "O".

I definitely own them. Originals too (in case you wonder), because they are my all time favourite albums and I won't compromise having anything but the originals.

But they are missing. As in they are nowhere to be found in all my collection of CDs that have survived my fifth house move now. Well, considering their vanished nature, I'm not about to say they have survived now - but instinct tells me I must have taken all my favourite albums and put them in a CD case. And it is that very precious CD case that comprised all the music I wouldn't want to live without if there were no CDs left on earth that is now missing.

Missing.

The horrid truth is that I couldn't find them since I've moved here. Which makes me suspect that I may not have moved with them in the first place. The thought that the CD case of music could have been left at some relocation movers warehouse to be collecting dust for all eternity while I'm sitting here having "Can't take my eyes off of you..." playing repeat in my head is quite horrifying.

Imagine for a moment my distress.

And what did I do? To tide my sorry heart over, I went to YouTube and promptly looked for the stupid song that prompted this all.

It's right here.



So this is love/Just when I've lost my CD/And I'm lost and sorry.../Now, at this time/And so it is/I've lost that one thing.../I've cared for.../More than your voice./Can't take my eyes off.../Shouldn't take my eyes off...

Should have put it together with the passport and the intricate little obsessions we carry around with us every day.

Tokens, trinkets, sentimentalities.

The song reminds me of so much that I cannot find. So it's not really about The Blower's Daughter really, that is now occupying my fast flowing, random, path of least resistance stream of consciousness.

Ever played a song and all that came to mind were old photographs, faded memories, snatches of moments where you stole a glance at someone you shouldn't have? That's "The Blower's Daughter".

It's what you think of when you're staring into a vastness of ocean that looks like seemingly nothing.

It's what you say when she comes up to you and asks, "What are you thinking?" And you smile and say, "Nothing, sweetheart." She turns away and you hum a song, "And so it is..."

How do we live our lives in our sleeping, soft, silent, subtle, dreaming moments, when they shatter as we wake? How do we explain our lives to the people that fill it in our waking moments, when they don't touch us where we sleep?

And so it is, the colder water, the blower's daughter, the pupil in denial. I'll be waiting at that ocean's edge, hair in the wind, salt water in my eyes.