got my feet, got my toes, got my liver…

I’ve always loved Nina. Even when I was nine years old and had never heard her name or saw her face and thought she was a man. So, it was always gonna be awesome, because it’s Nina. About halfway through I started thinking, because that’s what I do, “So, what does it say about Flynn and her life right now, that this brings her to tears?” Trying to be all psychoanalytical and unfeeling because it wasn’t moving me to anything other than the norm. Then it kicked in. The tears. And the happy dance. The pure gratitude and joy.

Yeah.
Yeah.

I watched this on DVD earlier and was awestruck, and tried to describe it to myself in my head. I think she understood pain, and she didn’t give a shit about making it pretty, because suffering isn’t pretty. Thinking of what she sang about makes me think of something Cormac McCarthy said to the effect of ‘any writer who doesn’t write about death is just kidding themselves.’

I guess
Or think

She defies description.