Some Strange Music Draws Me In

by Griffin Hansbury

For some of us, there comes a moment when we realize that the object of our desire lies outside our known world, beyond our towns and families. Out there, we understand, there is another way to want, to have, to be. Sometimes, even when we do not venture out to find it, when we try to want only what we are given, the object comes to us. And the world, without our consent, breaks open and expands.

Young time is slow time, every season a marathon, and then it sprints. People warn you about that, but it’s a surprise when you feel the jolt.

This house is where my anger was born and nurtured. I have little fondness for the place, but don’t want to see it fall. There are too many memories I haven’t yet fit together into a story that makes sense. Too many weeds I still have to pull.

Once the self expands, it cannot be brought back to its original shape.

This is why the leaders of small places are afraid of music and books. And queers. They offer another way. But they don’t convert. They awaken. Sending a signal to dormant cells, they rouse what’s already there. “It’s time,” they say. “Wake up.”