There's a lot that still needs working out.
We hear that in everything that Jocelyn Noir sings.
ALAK songs are her ways of proving this to everyone. Nothing's at all figured out. It's nebulous and floating. It can grind into you, twisting your outer layer of durable skin with the end of the bit that's trying to break through. It can hurt or it can just feel like normal shit. One can settle into a numbness, or a pain that's gotten to be white hot, turning everything red and then has no other intensity to inflict.
The woman from Placerville, California, lets the drags hang off of her like fringe, as if she wants it there, as if it causes her amusement. The lives that she chronicles seem bewitched and a little fucked. It's funny how they still seem as if they've not rotted completely through though. They still exist. There's still a belief that hearts might prevail. There's confidence in the love that she has and the love that she's capable of giving out. It's only bleak, but it's not wasted. There's still a chance out there for better times. There's still a chance for tiny celebrations turning into more. There's a chance that some of these things are overblown, as Noir sings, "That's just how shit goes in my mind."