Creative outbursts that have been buried for months; hybernating, but all this time it’s been there. inspiration out of nowhere, melancholy words pour from my fingertips to the page before me, maybe it’s the raindrops out of my window or the song I’m listening to, just felt like writing this feeling for posterity and maybe i’m not alone. Is this resonating with you at all? Is it even resonating within myself? Who knows but so it is and how it will continue to be..
We show the world a carefully curated version of ourselves, one that beams the best possible version we want others to see, the lights, the red carpet, a star to the rest of the world, our own PR firm. We must always be in the best light, never flawed, always looking good, close up of the smile and a wink to the camera. After the camera fades, so does that smile and it darkens. You’re by yourself with your own thoughts and no you’re not perfect; not even close; you’re you. And the only one that knows is the one you see in the mirror. Perception; a blessing and a curse, isn’t?
There’s something magical about the weirdness, the unknown, the unexplained, the mystery unravels. where did this come from? Who made this? And what do we do with it? I don’t want to know, let it remain mysterious. Art, beautiful art,, from so long ago, such a long time ago. Let me swim in the sea of confusion as I drown in my own thoughts…
Things change too quickly. You want to go back to a time when you were younger, even if it was a few years back. You want to go back to when those around were younger, you had more time with them, you knew to expect but things are different now. We’re all older, life has moved on, that house you knew has been sold, your friends have moved on to different chapters of their life, the places and people you knew have changed beyond recognition and you feel stuck. Just memories remain and the inability to move forward no matter how much you write the same things you replay the same thoughts in your head until you figure it out..
It’s so funny how you can remember conversations you heard from years ago, conversations that aren’t relevant at all, yet they somehow stay in your mind. About 20 years I was in 12 steps and I’d always go to this meeting on Friday night, it was full of young people my age. And sometimes you might see some older people there who usually sponsored some of the young adults. After the meeting, we’d all go out in the parking lot, smoke, and talk. I was sitting by my car, kind of shy and looking for someone to talk to, I had a moment of loneliness, in that group I didn’t have a lot of friends in that and so I’m not sure why I continued to go but that’s a different story. Anyways next to me was this middle age guy in his early 50’s ( who was someone who always talkative with me) who was talking to a young girl in her 20s. She was explaining how she didn’t understand the appeal of Pink Floyd and the older guy was explaining to her how much the music meant to him, especially “Comfortably numb” when he was using during his depression, it helped him make sense of things. I was just listening in and didn’t participate in the conversation. I had this point hadn’t listened to a lot of Pink Floyd’s music but a few weeks later, there was a get together at this other guy’s house who had a band and he was playing “Wish you were here” by Pink Floyd and the music really resonated with me because I had lost my brother a few years back and something just hit me at that moment. So those two experiences with that group collided and so everytime I hear Pink Floyd, I think back to that little conversation between two people in that church parking lot 20 years and proves as a reminder of the power of music and how we can connect that way, even if we have nothing else in common..
Thinking back to places In my mind, people I once knew, parts of town I spent time in. I think about the stories that place could tell. Fun times with friends, long lonely nights under the street lights. Relationships, heartbreak.But time changes whether we want it to or not. Friends we know, drift out of lives and we make new relationships, circumstances change, the places we knew because of just fuzzy memories. Lively shops become abandoned storefronts..They were once full of life, full of people coming and going but they are now nonexistent, lost to time. Finding new faces, new stories. The revolving door of life. Changes. Damn, do they change, they sure do. But we carry on and hope the best as the future unfolds…..
Often recycled thoughts and written memories, rehashed in my head. Memories of long summer nights, dried sweat from the heat, the sound of crickets and the flash of fireflies outside, distant kids swimming, diving, and splashing in the pool but I swim during the day. When it gets dark, I’m home, watching MTV all night, playing Mario Kart with my brother ( the smell of cigarette smoke coming from his army jacket) or alone with my thoughts wondering where he’s at. No one else stops by, so it’s just me but I’m used to it by now. Recycled bittersweet memories, forgive me if I repeat myself, just tape loops as I lay awake tonight..
I stay up late most nights, it’s my nature and sometimes I think alot about the past and events that seem to be stuck in my memory, whether they seem important or not. I was listening to an old trance cover of Bryan Adam’s Heaven and it reminded of the kind of music I heard in the late 90’s and early 2000’s, I was never a fan of that music but I did enjoy it from time time. Whenever I hear that music, I think of the rare times I ever went clubbing, which was only a few times ( Maybe 2 or 3 times) It was always a strange experience. It was this huge place with several dance floors, flashing lights and people from wall to wall, you couldn’t move without bumping into someone. Most people were stoned dancing mindlessly to the thumping music that shook the floor. For me just being there was high enough for me.
I was overwhelmed with sensory overload all I could do was hit the patio, smoke a cigarette and try to find someone to talk to, away from all the noise, one side of my body feeling the heat from the club and the other feeling the cold out of the outdoor patio, a strange sensation. Every so often there’d be some chill people out there, enjoying the music from the outside. Why after drinking do we feel compelled for a nice smoke, kinda weird?
But even though I found the club experience to overwhelming with it’s high energy with its wall to wall people, the loud music, and flashing lights, I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between the warm energic club and the cold outside with its intimidating bouncers, situated in some of the worst areas of the city. And I know that at 2 am, when everyone leaves and the music goes down that this club feel of life will be empty, lights turned off, newspaper rustling in the wind, and a sole dog barking in the distance. Just another empty building until the next night..
Rules are meant to be broken but are words meant to spoken or is silence the only choice, the only optional voice. Is it better to be lost in thought or not, silent battles fought without a sound, you found something inside that you could never find on the outside, a rollercoaster, a bumpy ride, your introversion is pure pride.. David Aguilera
Jim. My introduction to musical poetry on spinning black vinyl. Strange days I can’t get back while I’m waiting for the prodigal son. Circa 1995. You wouldn’t understand..