"A part of me, Apart from me"

Ah, Bon Iver, you say it well. I love your music, too, but partly because one line sums up the sentiments of my "fan" state for the Wall-rus... I recently had the joy of some mental meanderings with a fellow lover/inspiree/committed researcher who shares a similar interest in deconstructing the nature of what Wally does with his music, and the reflections it casts upon his interpersonal truths (although he retains a certain level of ambiguity and privacy, which I can respect.) My 'conversations' with my fellow devotee bring about further introspection from the lens of the 'fan.' As a function of creating this blog, and my commitment as a follower of the art, I stumble upon other pieces of the grand puzzle through that good/evil wonder called the internet. My reaction to some pieces is pleasant and agreeable, to some I find myself unsettled. I especially find bother in the seemingly endless commentaries on Wally's sex appeal and unusual good looks. There's a shocking rash of downright rude comments regarding his looks. I won't disagree with the general sentiment-he has a certain angle about him-I think it's his "smiling eyes" and sheepish expressions that swiftly disarm and fascinate. However, the litany of commentary on the carnal interests of some fans begins to irritate a bit; what about the work? What about the music? Is there not a greater segment of the soul that has been colonized by his beautiful art? I know that is my feeling-that a part of my "spirit, soul, heart" (whatever you wish to call it) has been forever annexed by Wally's work. And yes, undoubtedly a part of the artist themselves comes with that-I cannot deny a love for him as the brilliant brain-factory behind my favorite music. But I cannot "love" him, nor do I feel the right to profess such a deeply intimate sentiment. I cannot love "him," I don't really know him. My direct contact to him has been brief and transient. I haven't the honor of real "knowing." I have that honor with others in my life, one person specifically, and it is a gift that is only given to very few in one's life. My fact-heavy 'fan' brain makes an educated guess about who shares such "knowing" with Wally (Tash, hold onto that man, he's a treasure.)

The counselor in me wonders about the nature of transference, a phenomenon that is all to real when people make deep emotional connections to others. At first, my insatiable interest in Wally's music and life worried me a bit, from the therapeutic perspective. Was I placing on this person some intimacy I was missing in my own life? Since some deeper reflections on those questions, I have come to a more stable foundation of self-awareness on the matter. I am experiencing the unique shift of being truly touched by art-to be shaken to the core. It happens, and I think if one never feels that way about anything in their life, they have been bereft of true passion. I have stumbled across other great muses, although Wally serves as one of the most durable and complex-sortof' a personal paradigm shift, I suppose. I digress. What I mean to convey with these thoughts-to my fellow fans and perhaps to myself-is that there are boundaries, indeed. But inspiration must not be caged, lest the product of it be denied to the world. if you are inspired, let it be a part of you, but remember that it is also "apart from you."