The Chelsea Hotel

There's a song about the Chelsea Hotel
that makes me cry within seconds every
time I hear it. It's a song about long-ago
good-old days and lost loves, loves you
don't even realize you loved until years
later. It reminds me instantly of being a
teenager, of handing out flowers on the
street, of dreaming I would one day be
a rock n' roll star. Every dream I've ever
had in fact comes rushing back to me
as I hear the chorus, "I remember you
well in the Chelsea Hotel." It's as if I
really do remember somebody well
from some fling at the Chelsea. But
I've never stayed at that hotel, and God
knows who it could be that I remember.
Somehow, the song flicks a switch in me
that helps me remember beautiful parts
of my life which could never come again
and never did happen anyway. This
visceral reaction of mine is incredibly
precious to me. I once knew love,
I say to myself; there are, indeed, some
moments in my life I can almost
remember and treasure. There were, in
the end, good times whose memories
will never fail to choke me up.

(2007)