MattCarney::FictionWriter

Emi­lie Simon

She’s appeared–admittedly pol­y­se­mous and ethereal–in my writ­ing more than once. And I’m cer­tain that in the future, oth­ers will be equally inspired by her work. If not, the future world will be def­i­nitely as deaf to the muses as I just fear they are today.

I heard The Big Machine for the first time in the park at Pasadena for free, then two days later at a tiny club with unfin­ished wooden walls and a sky­light. I’d only been so shocked two other time in my life through music; the fist time I lis­tened to The Frag­ile on its release date; the first time I lis­tened to “Heroes,” by myself in the dark. It is rare for artists to truly cap­ture the ache of our con­di­tion so acutely. It is more amaz­ing for read­ers to be lucky enough to rec­og­nize it emo­tion­ally, and even more sub­lime still for a reader to notice it for the first time in a work dur­ing a solo per­for­mance four feet away. I am con­fi­dent; when I met her after­ward, I could scarcely form words. Much of what you’ll read from me any time soon was writ­ten in the haze of inspi­ra­tion fol­low­ing these two shows.

All I can say, still, is thank you.