Song: “A Question Mark”

Dan gave me all the Elliott Smith I need, as a little bit goes a very long way.

Just a few songs and I’m feeling pretty damn bummed out. All I can picture is this man holding a knife to his chest. Or someone holding a knife to his chest. Whatever happened in those final moments, it must have been intense.

Option A)Elliott decides he can’t take it here anymore. He scribbles out an apology on a Post-It, selects a knife, maybe smokes a last cigarette, and then slams the blade into his chest. Then: it doesn’t work. IT DOESN’T WORK. He has to do it again. Or maybe he did it twice right away. Isn’t that hard to do, to penetrate the chest like that? We all saw Pulp Fiction. I always pictured he found a way to fall onto the blade. But then… twice? After the first time, when it hurt so much, there’s no way you’d want to go through that again, find the strength to do that again.

Could you do that? Could you imagine anyone doing that? There’s a survival instinct that has to kick in at some point, right?

So. Option B)His girlfriend stabbed him. Repeatedly.

I don’t know where I’m going with this, other than I now can’t listen to this man’s songs without imagining his final moments. It’s another case of the art and the artist blending into one experience for me.