The day I heard Jason Molina had died I started crying and had to leave my office. I walked down the road to a park and walked through the park into an old closed cemetery. I talked to myself about how much I loved him and his music, how angry I was that he never got the recognition his work deserved, and how sad I was that a life like his had passed that way and (selfishly) that I wouldn’t have the comfort and inspiration of new songs from him to live to.
As I was crying and walking and talking the town clock (which I can’t usually hear from inside my air-conditioned, insulated office) started chiming and as it was midday chimed 12 times. I was already teary but at that moment I completely lost my shit and sobbed… Like always though underneath the sobs and after the pain, was space and in that space was gratitude and joy for the beauty and light that exists in the world, and for me (though Jason spoke often of its inverse) is illustrated and illuminated most resplendently in the songs of Jason Molina.
The day I heard Jason Molina had died I started crying and had to leave my office. I walked down the road to a park and walked through the park into an old closed cemetery. I talked to myself about how much I loved him and his music, how angry I was that he never got the recognition his work deserved, and how sad I was that a life like his had passed that way and (selfishly) that I wouldn’t have the comfort and inspiration of new songs from him to live to. As I was crying and walking and talking the town clock (which I can’t usually hear from inside my air-conditioned, insulated office) started chiming and as it was midday chimed 12 times. I was already teary but at that moment I completely lost my shit and sobbed… Like always though underneath the sobs and after the pain, was space and in that space was gratitude and joy for the beauty and light that exists in the world, and for me (though Jason spoke often of its inverse) is illustrated and illuminated most resplendently in the songs of Jason Molina.