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Anais Vionet  Nov 2023
playlists
Anais Vionet Nov 2023
I’ve always loved music. As a little girl, I could spend hours going through peoples CD collections, sampling them with my little battery-operated CD player. If you showed me a stack, rack or box of CDs, I was in heaven.

When I was 8 (2011), I got my first iPod for Christmas, an iPod Touch with 32GB of memory! The sticker said it was from Santa, but ‘Step’ got a package in the mail from Apple three weeks earlier, so I knew who it was really from. Upon opening it, I rushed upstairs to my older brother’s computer, plugged it in, carefully copied the username and password for the family iTunes account (from a wrinkled post-it note), and the world was never the same.

It never occurred to me that my parents could see all of my playlists and that they were automatically downloaded to their devices - like my break-up playlist, inspired by Antoine, my French-boy fifth grade crush. It didn’t work out because he didn’t have an email account and our recess times didn’t line up, but my playlist helped me through it.

I could burn playlists to CDs and exchange them with friends - or gift them to middle school boys who I hoped to amaze with my awesome musical tastes. There’s an art to the playlist that involves controlling pace and mood - every playlist was both a gift and a seduction.

Today we have Spotify with its unlimited streaming of every song ever made - on demand. Exchanging playlists, these days, is as easy as pressing "Share" and typing the first few letters of a friend’s or lover's username.

Like most of my girlfriends, I consider myself a playlist queen and as I continue to work this career path I’ve chosen, regardless of what's weighing me down, I know I can turn to my playlists to push me through. The band ‘The Narcissist Cookbook ’ assures me that my shocking honesty is fun with ‘Broken People.’ ‘K. Flay’ allows me to dance-out my rage with ‘Blood in the cut’ and ‘New Move’ motivates me to keep-at-it with ‘When did we stop.’

I’ve countless Spotify playlists: one for waking up, one for writing papers, one for doing problem sets, others for walking to class, doing the laundry, for nostalgic reflection, and for embracing the astounding depth of human pain.

Of course, as time passes, I find new favorite songs and older playlists are replaced with updated ones; but thanks to the archival nature of Spotify playlist collections, all my old lists remain intact. I’ve never deleted one. Search my archives and you’d see playlists from my freshie year, when I was new here, feeling insecure and alone, or from my sophomore year when I first fell in love.

This piece is a playlist love story, about how music reflects our identities and allows us to share ourselves through the vibes, melodies and beats that move us. I think playlists have a lot in common with poetry, which uses words, phrases, metaphors and imagery for similar purposes.
samasati  Nov 2012
I believe
samasati Nov 2012
I believe in smiling at strangers. I believe in saying hello. I believe in shyness. I believe in fear of rejection. I believe in the need of affection. I believe in the need of reminders. I believe in candles, especially those that smell of vanilla or christmas. I believe in wearing small crystals around my neck. I believe in energetic vibrations. I believe in colours - I think each person has their own colour. I believe every feeling is valid. I believe in chapstick and I believe in mascara that doesn’t clump. I believe in nail polish - every colour of nail polish. I believe that the only reason we lie is because we fear something. I believe in poetry. I believe in bluntness. I believe in the intention behind words, but I don’t necessarily believe in words. I believe in travel. I believe in travelling solo. In fact, I believe in travelling so much that it is pretty much all I want to do. I believe in music. Boy, do I believe in music. I believe any kind of musical composition can change a person. I believe music can cure depression. I also believe music can feed depression. I believe a melody can say more than lyrics and I believe that lyrics can be what someone couldn’t put together themselves to explain exactly how they are feeling. I believe anyone can create a song, even though they believe they cannot. I believe a single note can sound like the most beautiful sound in the world. I believe if someone records a song when they’re in an ugly mood, the ugliness emits to its listeners and can drain them. I believe in art. Of course I do. I believe in acrylic paint. I believe in oil paint and watercolours, but not as much as I believe in acrylic. I believe in fingerprinting. I even believe in painting with your toes. And I believe in dancing; even if it looks weird. I believe in flailing your arms even, as long as it feels good and right. I believe in dancing ‘til you sweat, though I don’t like that icky feeling too much. I believe that a babe can be a very ugly person and a physically unattractive person can be a very beautiful person. I believe that people who smile are beautiful. I believe that people who frown are beautiful too, just in a different way. I believe that there are sincere smiles and there are manipulative smiles. I believe that some people just know how to use their eyes well. I believe in eye contact. I believe in engaging. I believe in listening and dropping everything else that is going on in your mind just to listen to what a person is trying to share with you. I believe in sharing - sharing cookies and sharing love. I believe in the frosty cold. I believe that it doesn’t have to feel as cold as it really is. I believe that people complain a lot. I believe that people often have too much pride to be happy. I believe that we should embrace our discomforts and shames, that we should welcome them wholeheartedly so that we can be happy. I believe in honesty. I believe in empathy. I believe in tea. I believe in jelly donuts but only on certain occasions. I believe in quirky bow ties. I believe in knit toques and mittens and scarves. I believe in dresses. I believe in flirting. I believe in coffee in the morning. I believe in big comfy beds. I believe in walking around your empty house in your underwear or birthday suit, singing loudly. I believe in singing in the shower. I believe in singing on the street. I believe in stage fright. I believe in meditation, though I don’t really strictly set times to do it anymore. I believe mundane activities can be done in a meditative state of mind. I believe in clarity. I believe in not judging people because everyone is human. I believe every human has something very interesting about them. I believe in boring people too. I believe in christmas music - not the radio kind, the choral kind. I believe in cheap sweet wine. I believe in Billy Joel and I believe in The Beatles. I believe in Regina and Sufjan too. I believe that the ukulele is a very overrated instrument. I believe in having healthy hair. I believe in moisturizer. I believe in getting to pick a coloured toothbrush at the dentist. I believe in thick wool socks. I believe in baggy sweaters. I believe in yoga gear but I do not believe in sweatpants. I believe that yoga is one of the healthiest things for a person - ever. I believe in buying a friend drinks or dinner once in awhile. I believe in collecting shoes and scarves and rings. I believe in chords but I don’t really believe in jeans. I believe in hot chocolate with whip cream but not with marshmallows. I believe in dorky Christmas sweaters. I believe in baking cookies instead of cake. I believe in eating disorders - I do not support them, but I do believe they are much more severe and various than most people think and I believe there should be better/proper help for those who suffer instead of the usual cruel inpatient/outpatient care. I believe in trichotillomania and I believe in dermatillomania and the severity and impact it can have on its sufferers. I believe in gardens. I believe in every single flower. I believe that everyone is always doing their best. I believe that most people love to struggle. I believe in hope. I believe in having faith in yourself. I believe in iPod playlists. I believe in gym memberships in the winter, not the summer unless it’s to swim. I believe in matching underwear every day. I believe in Value Village. I believe in singing in bus shelters when you’re waiting for the bus. I believe in dressing up according to holidays. I believe in Grey’s Anatomy and I believe in Community. I believe in skirts and dresses that twirl like the ‘ol days. I believe in longboards more than skateboards. I believe in plaid like most young people do. I believe in bows in my hair, but not as much as I used to. I believe in foot massages and hand massages. I believe in reflexology and reiki and essential oils and chakras and crystals and holistic nutrition. I believe in anxiety; even crippling anxiety. I believe in awkward romances. I do not believe in flip flops. I do not believe in Beatles covers unless they are really insanely good; then my mind is blown. I believe in having long enough nails to scratch someone’s back appropriately. I also believe in biting nails. I do not believe in telephone calls unless I am extremely comfortable with the person. I believe in blogs. I believe in journals. I believe in naming special inanimate objects like journals, instruments, technology and furniture. I believe in the idea of cats more than I believe in cats. I believe in sharpies or thin pointed permanent markers. I believe in temporary tattoos. I believe in streaming movies online. I believe in royal gala apples. I believe in avocados. I believe in rice cakes. I believe in popcorn. I believe in airports but I hate the LA airport. I believe in openly talking about *** but I don’t believe in making it seem shameful and gross. I believe there should be no shame regarding sexuality. I believe in reading some great books more than once. I believe in laying on the couch under cozy blankets, watching a great suspenseful tv show or movie. I only believe in having a couple bites of cheesecake. I don’t really believe in lulu lemon. I don’t believe many people can pull off the colour yellow. I believe in buttons over zippers even though zippers are easier, they just look kind of dumb and cheap. I believe in the sun and the moon equally. I believe in closets over dressers. I believe in staring out the window for a good hour or so.
Anonymous  Jul 2014
Coffee shops
Anonymous Jul 2014
The elegance of sitting in a coffee shop alone,
With a coffee to your right,
And a biscuit to your left,
Listing to the slow songs on your playlists,
No one to talk to,
Not the lonely kind of no one,
The comforting kind,
Everyone minding their own conversations,
Meanwhile you're all alone,
In the coffee shop,
Gemma Sep 2010
I am using my red headphones
to block out the sounds coming from the bunk
above me

I can still hear the word
like
over
and over
again


I shared a bench with a stranger
waiting for a train
why did she get up before
the doors opened?
Was I moving
or were the windows passing by?


Whose life did rock n roll save again?


I was walking on the same street
as I walked on the day before

I have begun to recognize the cracks
and the blue house with the wicker chairs
and the corner where someone is always laughing

There are some words
in some lines
in some songs
that I want to drink
till I'm thirsty again

I met someone today
he was like the someone
I met the day before

How many times can you make the same conversation?

I don't want to lie
but the truth is strange and
unfashionable

I don't want to make
a lucid argument
words can drift and find each other
whenever they get lonely


I really just want
to taste silence for a while.
Two almost done, just ten more to go.
Caosín Mar 2022
I have, on my youtube, playlists of men.
kissing.

allow me to excuse myself, but it's not for fun and pleasure
it's quite the opposite, it's for my displeasure
but that's not entirely true.

I have them there
to remind me
that those men
will never be
me. I will never
Kiss someone
Hold someone
Love someone
like they do for eachother.

It's a feeling deep within my bones, a longing not to be ignored, a longing to hold and to be held. To kiss and be kissed.
to love
and be loved...
in a certain kinda way.
hahaha gay funee amirite
astrid  Nov 2018
past tense
astrid Nov 2018
once I've been told,
'til these roses turn old
and my earrings tarnish their gold
my hands are what you will hold

since then, gazes went fiery
my palms weren't as sweaty
heart beating like crazy
my eyes were never teary

my poems have seen happiness
oh, dear God, I know I've been blessed
playlists were still sad, but less
calmed my waves with your caress

and in every relationship I've had
I've always anticipated for the bad
but you never made me go mad
and luckily, I was never sad

happiness with you in sight
you made me shine so bright
you embodied every winning fight
still smitten, never something so right

my words cherished you deeply
you might looked perfect, seemingly
my thoughts have suffered politely
made me look dumb intimately

have you realized
that I make zero sense?
because all of these
are written in past tense.
claire Jun 2019
i can't believe i have to ******* leave you
i wanna cancel all my plans and stick to you like a fly on the wall
listening for words that mean you'll miss me as much as i know i'll miss you
so i make private playlists and cry on sundays and just hope that i make you fall in love with me before september comes
Robdejong Nov 2013
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storm siren  Sep 2016
Psychopath
storm siren Sep 2016
Here it goes again,
Here it comes again,
The articles about
Psychopaths
And the accusatory tone
Twisting behaviors
Twisting actions
To sound toxic
To sound dangerous
To stamp a big red label on my skin,
Screaming
"AVOID THIS ONE AT ALL COSTS"

While I sit and weep.

But these articles
Blog posts
People fleeing from me
Left and right
Are lies, right?

Tell me, please,
Tell me,
Someone?

My anxiety and need to be reassured
Roots from my PTSD,
And my neediness and wants for attention
Is normal for my upbringing,
Right?

And writing poem after poem
About how much I care for you,
And making playlists
With songs in it
That make me think of you,
Is just a sign that I care,
Right?

I don't want to be
A psychopath.
I don't  want to be
A toxic person,
I don't understand
How telling someone you love them,
Is bad?

But these articles say that showering someone
In constant attention and praise
Means you're a psychopath.

And these blog posts
Are telling me that poems and gifts and music,
All means you're selfish and unfeeling.

But I don't want to be,
I care so much, I love you so much.

I'm afraid
Of who I am.
Tell me why it has to be this way. I don’t want to hold on to one side of this conversation and have the other person falling off a ladder. Yeah, down there on the ground. Get up and look at me!
      I wasn’t sleeping, I swear—he said hastily.
Yeah, whatever, buddy. Tell me what you’re doing in my head?
      Repainting. Repainting over the old spots, the worn out spots.
But those are the best spots, the only ones with character. Can you tell me who sent you?
      No sir, I cannot.
Then it is ok. I suppose I’ll have to watch as you put varnish on top of every dream and aspiration I have ever had. Do you know who the girl was that I first loved in the springtime of youth’s blossom?
    It was Ashley, sir.
I believe I did not love her, guest worker. What are you wearing there?
    A pair of overalls, a cape. What’s the difference?
I’m the one who speaks to you first, and don’t be short with me. I don’t like you standing there in an open room with no windows. How is that possible?
    I’m sorry, boss. It’s just, I finished painting over that memory but the paint’s still wet. You loved her very much, I’m afraid.
    Ashley? I never gave her a second thought. Perhaps you are right. I only remember kissing her shyly and asking permission to see her *******. They were the biggest of all.
      Yes sir, I thought so too. She was a sweet girl though.
Sweet? I’ll tell you Mr. Painter; Ashley was the first girl I kissed. I kissed her in my first love’s house, a different girl. I loved Ashley more than that first love and I’m serious. No one can ever make me forget the day we lay on her mother’s sofa in the basement.
      --I’m sorry, sir.
No, say it is impossible. Say you have some form of soap that can make up for your treachery!
     No, I’m only wearing orange overalls and marching on the word from above.
But who sent you!!!? I have to know. I’m crying.
    Justin, it’s ok. It’s Ashley. She said you need to stop crying. She has a family now.
Well, alright. That house. That basement. That unconscious.
    We are worms, sir. Worms, slithering and boundless. Please accept my apologies.
No, it’s quite alright. If you must take every memory of my second love, take my third. And take my fourth and every other woman who crosses my path. It’s not my choice to keep them captive in the imagination of what could have been. You know, it’s been years since I truly cared about someone—
    Since Ashley?
Who’s that?
    Ashley.
Goodbye forever, harlot.
    Sir, you’re being brash.
No, I don’t remember that name and I hold you at an arm’s length in my mind. Please, finish what you’re doing and allow me to rest. What color are you painting the room?
    Green, I’m afraid.
Then so it is. Goodbye, good friend. Goodbye sweet love. Forever, in the spring. Temporal boundaries and endless playlists. Be the verve, be the melody. I love you!
     So it is. Sleep well, sir.
SZ Oct 2016
Do you also wake up in the middle of the night and almost reach for me
because you forgot that I'm not there anymore?
I slept next to someone else last night,
But I had a dream that I was next to you,
And I have never felt more disappointed in my life than in that moment when I woke up.
I can't tell which is worse, the disappointment or
Trying to sleep while holding myself together because it feels like everything is about to spill out of me.

According to everyone I should just go meet someone else,
but it's not that easy.
I have no interest in talking to anyone when I'm sober,
When I'm drunk I just end up telling everyone about you.
I can't tell if I'm waiting for someone to confirm that you're never coming back
Or for someone to lie to me so I can feel better for the night.

Can I ***** out all my feelings too, along with the *****?
I almost thought I had, the night I was dry heaving into the morning.
That was the night I got so drunk I couldn't stop asking everyone I saw
Why
Didn't
You
Love
Me?
I'm sure all the strangers in the room thought I was crazy.
I have dreams about you all the time and even in my dreams,
You still don't love me.

If I stare at your Facebook chat bubble long enough,
Will I see the three dots of you beginning to type a message?
If I stare out my window long enough,
Will I see you walking towards my front door?
I still want to punch a hole through the wall whenever I hear a song that you used to sing to me.
That's become particularly annoying
since the Chainsmokers got popular.
Apparently I can't get over you
while still listening to your SoundCloud playlists
But I'm not sure what else is worth listening to.

The other day, my friend commented on how fast I walk.
I told him it was because I had gotten used to your speed
since you're much taller than me.
In reality, I think it's just to make up for the parts of my life
that haven't been moving at all.
Leah Nov 2015
no more june songs
it's november now and
I celebrated daylight savings
with two days in bed
thinking of you
and reading poems
I would've been better off
never writing.

no more june songs
it's november now
it gets dark at five
and one of these nights
I'll delete every poem
that you inspired.

no more june songs
it's november now and
they'll never be able to prove
that I loved you.
11/4/15

— The End —