My brain went and did that dancing about architecture thing again, this time envisioning one of my favorite albums of 2025 as a musical by stringing the songs together into a narrative. Unlike L Extreme, here the idea was to fill in the spaces between the songs with segues to flesh out a story. The barest outline to let the music do the heaviest lifting, with a few back-catalog easter eggs because why not?
Check out my Twitter song-by song review of the album first, then read on for a completely different take on Thank The Lord… it’s the Pink Stones.
Thank The Lord…
a musical short story by JL Civi, inspired by the album
Oh, my my. I didn’t expect to find a place like this here, but I’m glad I did.
Question: What do you religious types call getting hit with sounds, visions, and complete clarity in one inspirational burst?
Epiphany?
Yeah. I had one of those, on my knees, thank the lord…
Forgive me father, for I have sinned.
Technically others sinned against me first, but I atone for my retaliation.
Never wanted to relive those days, but since this is confession and if you aren’t too busy…
Technically it wasn’t a one night stand since it lasted two nights. Though I suppose if you don’t sleep it’s still the first night, right?
Numbers aside, it was magical. From the bar to the bedroom to work the next day is all a blur. Not wanting things to end, I told my boss a relative died and proposed a spontaneous trip on a big jet plane.
This is starting to sound like a real sad movie…
I still get riled up over her friends laughing at my car when I picked her up for that mid-week getaway. Who’s laughing now? Are they still laughing? Probably, but that’s not my point.
Or maybe it is. Sometimes I feel like an outlier. A stranger in a strange land who’d be better off starting over in another country.
Going overseas was something we talked about at the airport bar, but couldn’t quite figure out how the seasons worked below the equator and whether it’d be warm or cold when leaving…
You never intend to commit adultery, but sometimes you spot someone from afar while already in a relationship. A nod, a wink, averted eyes that aren’t looking until they are. It sorta snowballs from there. Will the snow melt, or solidify into rock hard ice?
Whether something or nothing happened is and isn’t important. What’s wrong with remembering both versions? It’s like the universe split in two, and either way is lose/lose if I can’t win…
It became an addiction. White cushions splattered with red stains. Black/red sharp/blunt objects moving between my hands and the coffee table, numbers counting down the sins I’ve committed.
Is a broken heart a sin? For the breaker, it might be lust or wrath. For the broken, pride or greed or envy. Both people may fall into gluttony and sloth as they work their way out of the bottomless pit of pain.
It was the first time I’d been alone in my life, so I knew it was best to be movin’ on. Fresh start in another place. Maybe take that international trip on my own.
We never did figure out when the seasons down under were summer or winter…
Traveling abroad is like being in another dimension or traveling in time. Simultaneously two opposite seasons. A chilly wind after sunset transforms a lovely day into something more sinister. The same, but different. The whole thing gave me a sense of uneasiness that’s hard to kill…
I wasn’t the only one to take this overseas trip on my own. Funny how something we were supposed to do together became something we still did separately but at the same time. Or it’d be funny if it weren’t such a drag.
D-R-A-G. Those letters describe my life. I might win a spelling bee, but what good does that do me if the acronym is a loser?
Devious. Resentful. Apathetic. Gluttonous. Four out of seven ain’t bad, eh? Was I supposed to acknowledge her? Ignore her? Use nicotine and alcohol and other substances to counteract the pain? I think the right answer is to let it go, but her presence across the room across the sea was such a sight…
I really thought we’d get married. Yes, we only had that one night stand that lasted a few continuous day/nights, but a feeling is a feeling. Should she be another in the parade of ones or twos that got away, or could one or both of us have the sense to stay? No need to revisit the your place or mine game. Pick a neutral site to try again where it’s safe and warm like a hometown hotel…
Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Bar was closing. Take our time? Too busy for that. We had a third and or fourth night to stand up to. Maybe I fudged the counting, but I remembered your number—all seven digits.
Once I mustered up the guts to dial is where it got interesting. It wasn’t my first time, but most folks know when you answer the phone you start with your name…
She said she’d call me back, but the phone never rang. I could’ve called again, but that’s not how this works. Anyways, it doesn’t matter since my phone doesn’t work on the sailboat. At least not for telephonics. Your eyes look so much clearer in the photo on my phone, buried in a pile of memories…
And that, Father, concludes my confession. Seven sins and psalm 127 led me to take penance here in your island chapel as a way of introducing my new life on the great blue sea, courtesy of you know who.
I’ve gotta get back to my boat. Thank the lord for sitting down with me.
Oh, and tell Jesus that Jimmy said hi.