My life is fully of those kind of somebodies. I have this joke in my head that I will write about The Book of Names, or a more sacrilegious parody on the Lambs Book of Life. In short it would just be a list of the names of all the girls/ women I made monumental mistakes getting emotionally attached to, or romantically involved with. Oh and also those flat out crazy girls who I always kept at arm's length cause I could just tell. And yup, the character traits and names seemed to match up. Some of the stereotypes preceded my meeting the people who were so named, others were defined by that one impressive individual who defined it for me.
But I'm not going to do that. I'm just gonna point out that the song linked in the title is the dopest thing I've heard in a LONG TIME, super feeling it right now, and I wouldn't doubt that my Ex of 4 years should really dig this song, more so because that list of somebodies for her is longer than mine, and the last time we crossed paths she was sorting out how she was going to reconcile her past. She was "kind" enough to reach out and "refriend" me a couple of years ago, after I'd spent the better part of a year after our break-up lowering my self to being a pathetically depressed nuisance each time she was struggling in the relationship with the coworker she left me for. I would reach out to splash around in my pool of self-pity, only to find out that she sought me out as a friend, to confide in about her new relationship and its troubles. I never said I would be her friend. My version of brutal-honesty over powered any moral philosophies I held, cause I KNEW I'd been screwed over, strung along, manipulated, betrayed, guilt-tripped, and leeched from, and I let it happen.
So I was a taciturn prick, who honestly would have rather never heard from the girl again, pretend it never happened, all the while rereading our past messages, watching the profile picture associated with them change now and then, cluing me in on what was happening in her life, allowing me to make up my own version of her reality apart from mine. I gave more than I'd ever given before, for someone who was truly special, and I can honestly say I don't know anyone anywhere near that special to me that I would be willing to give so much of myself to again. It was a one time deal as far as I can tell. Anyone who questions the reality of that just doesn't know the real deal, or me that well. Getting over her, and it, was one thing, getting over myself was/ is something completely different.
When you get burnt out on love, distrustful of romance and relationships, you also develop a strange relationship with your romantic past. You can get detached and take people and what they have to offer at face value and just "do it", whatever that it may be, with whoever might be willing to "do it"with you.
What strikes me as odd about that is that for the loveless and seeking that adopt that perspective, it also seems to downgrade your past flames as people you just "did it", whatever it was, with. The only thing I feel like I did with my ex was make a mistake. I failed with her, better said, we failed in tandem. We ended up in a romantic relationship because I got to the point where I was uncomfortable maintaining a platonic friendship with her. The alternative would have been to cease being friends, and That was my first reaction to the sense that her boundaries were paper thin, and my desires were a flame waiting to burn them away. Burn we did, bright and then out. I mourned our relationship before it began because I felt it was doomed before it even started, and thus it seemed miraculous when it was working. But, with my being nearly 7 years older, and at a different transitional point in my life, in my gut, I knew, once we'd both come out of the unsettled moments in our lives at that time, the chances of us working towards the kind of life we could pursue that would gratify us both were slim to none. I let myself believe otherwise at times, drunk the Kool-Aid of love. I don't even like Kool-Aid.
The spell wore off eventually, for both of us, and the principles we thought we held, powered us though the roller coaster of unmotivated courtship and growth that filled our relationship. I wasn't ready to except that she'd end up just like every other girl I shared my heart with only to see it returned, undisturbed, "refused: return to sender" sans proper acknowledgement or appreciation, response or reciprocation. In the end, that's all she is, and on some level all I imagined she'd ever be, cause I knew her as a friend long before I knew her as a lover.
I can honestly say that I recognize the marrying kind, a proper partner, and I'm not it, and I tend to be attracted to women who aren't either. That is reason enough for me to set romance down like a drink I know I don't really want or need. I can appreciate it for what it is, but I don't need it, don't much like the taste of it, like I don't need any of those entries from my Book of Names, my former Rescinded Fiance's included. But I was the one who said, "You shouldn't need someone, they should be a bonus, that way you can't resent them." The magic happens when you forget that you don't need them. The relief / grief comes if/ when it's over and the illusion fades and you realize They're just somebody that you used to know.
Basically TBR (Toilet Bowl Reading).
Through 2014 each post was named for a song, which is linked in its title. click to listen (preferably launch in a new tab or window though)
2015 onward: I have no clue what will inspire my rambling, as if I needed anything in the first place? The reigns are off, and the rambling truly begins.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
The Inevitability of Death
It'll be really easy to ramble to no end on this subject, but I'm going to keep it short and possibly add to this blog as time goes by. I'm possibly abnormally grave. I ponder my mortality and the mortality of the people I know and love often. It's what I was raised up in. Death hovered over me in youth by the simple absence of maternal Grandparents in my life. My mother lost her mother when she was 9 years old, and her father passed away when I was 8 months old. I have no memories of them, but in life and death they shaped my mother's personality and temperament. My mother lost an elder sister and brother when she was very young, so I can understand her.
I learned about these deaths when I was relatively young, whether I understood the significance of them or not. Her siblings' deaths were tied to other things, her sister's death being a factor in my mother not being accepted into the Police academy, my first born niece being named for my uncle who succumb to cancer near the time my sister was born.
My Father's father passed away when I was in 2nd grade, and it was the 1st death that seemed to register with me, because I think I saw my father cry for the first time. I'm not sure about that memory. What I am sure of is this: The death of your elders, particularly the aged ones, is something we're expected to experience. The nature of my father's professions made me fear for his life everyday. My mother's smoking and what I recall as a cancer scare when I was pretty young made heavy impressions on me as well. Youth and death aren't so common in our day and age, in the "1st" world, but that's not the reality I came to know.
As a preteen and teen one of my first friends I'd made after my parent's divorce resulted in our house being sold and us moving to a town home had a seizure and drowned in the Meramec river. My sophomore year my cousin Martez was killed in an "accidental" shooting. He was one of my heroes growing up, and somehow a rival, he was the closest thing I ever had to a big brother. By my junior year of high school 3 more classmates had died, 2 murdered, one from carbon monoxide poisoning with the majority of his family the year after he graduated. All this time my 2nd born niece was undergoing multiple heart surgeries and immunity issues. Our family was basically left to accept that should would live to be 4 years old according to her Doctors. When she passed away at the onset of my sophomore year of college I was already heartbroken and defeated.
I redirected my grief, and sought to focus on celebrating her memory, and the impact of our love towards her. At the same time popular figures were dying with each passing season, actors, musicians, comedians, mostly young, in some cases self-destructive. Sadly, fellow students at Truman died during my years there, car accidents, health concerns, at times when they were young and vital. By the end of my time there, two classmates and a couple of casual acquaintances had died, my father had been diagnosed with cancer, he mother died, my mother had a health scare, I'd lost several elder family members of generations past, and a mentor of mine had nearly died. Not long after I left Truman, another mentor, Rupert Rinehart, passed away, had friends and family undergo life-threatening circumstances, young and old alike. I also had a few health scares myself. My mentor at Truman who had a health scare passed away, my childhood role model my cousin Joe succumb to cancer at the age of 45, a year later my Uncle Junebug succumb to a similar ailment. My paternal Great Grandmother & Great Uncle would pass away well into their 90s towards the end of the decade that saw a second wave of untimely deaths for actors, comedians, and musicians.
All of that and the knowledge that the most promising and inspiring agents of social and moral change in the history of humanity have been killed, most in the prime of their lives, relatively young, it almost seems delusional to not view life with some measure of gravity. But, as the saying goes, it's like "Beating a dead horse".
One thing I know is, when I embraced my mortality and used that awareness to magnify my value of Life, I was revitalized from my grieving. When my Great Uncle passed and in my heart I felt ready to honor him, how he had been an inspiration and role model in my youngest days, it sparked something in me, but that spark didn't last. Now disassociation seems to be my default reaction. The presence of death, the threat of it, can be overwhelming, at my school, we have a children who have lost parents, siblings, and at least one who has a form of cancer that has effectively numbered his days. It's gotten to me. I've lost those steadfast, seemingly immortal elders in my life, and what's left is my parents, whose mortality I am all too aware of, and been wrestling with for as long as I can literally remember. And I'm not getting any younger. I marvel at my great nieces and nephews, who are carbon copies of my nieces and nephews, who I help in my hands as infants, myself still a child. People fret over a doomsday prediction, when we aren't promised the next breath. For me it's a high wire act finding a well-adjusted perspective to cling to.
I learned about these deaths when I was relatively young, whether I understood the significance of them or not. Her siblings' deaths were tied to other things, her sister's death being a factor in my mother not being accepted into the Police academy, my first born niece being named for my uncle who succumb to cancer near the time my sister was born.
My Father's father passed away when I was in 2nd grade, and it was the 1st death that seemed to register with me, because I think I saw my father cry for the first time. I'm not sure about that memory. What I am sure of is this: The death of your elders, particularly the aged ones, is something we're expected to experience. The nature of my father's professions made me fear for his life everyday. My mother's smoking and what I recall as a cancer scare when I was pretty young made heavy impressions on me as well. Youth and death aren't so common in our day and age, in the "1st" world, but that's not the reality I came to know.
As a preteen and teen one of my first friends I'd made after my parent's divorce resulted in our house being sold and us moving to a town home had a seizure and drowned in the Meramec river. My sophomore year my cousin Martez was killed in an "accidental" shooting. He was one of my heroes growing up, and somehow a rival, he was the closest thing I ever had to a big brother. By my junior year of high school 3 more classmates had died, 2 murdered, one from carbon monoxide poisoning with the majority of his family the year after he graduated. All this time my 2nd born niece was undergoing multiple heart surgeries and immunity issues. Our family was basically left to accept that should would live to be 4 years old according to her Doctors. When she passed away at the onset of my sophomore year of college I was already heartbroken and defeated.
I redirected my grief, and sought to focus on celebrating her memory, and the impact of our love towards her. At the same time popular figures were dying with each passing season, actors, musicians, comedians, mostly young, in some cases self-destructive. Sadly, fellow students at Truman died during my years there, car accidents, health concerns, at times when they were young and vital. By the end of my time there, two classmates and a couple of casual acquaintances had died, my father had been diagnosed with cancer, he mother died, my mother had a health scare, I'd lost several elder family members of generations past, and a mentor of mine had nearly died. Not long after I left Truman, another mentor, Rupert Rinehart, passed away, had friends and family undergo life-threatening circumstances, young and old alike. I also had a few health scares myself. My mentor at Truman who had a health scare passed away, my childhood role model my cousin Joe succumb to cancer at the age of 45, a year later my Uncle Junebug succumb to a similar ailment. My paternal Great Grandmother & Great Uncle would pass away well into their 90s towards the end of the decade that saw a second wave of untimely deaths for actors, comedians, and musicians.
All of that and the knowledge that the most promising and inspiring agents of social and moral change in the history of humanity have been killed, most in the prime of their lives, relatively young, it almost seems delusional to not view life with some measure of gravity. But, as the saying goes, it's like "Beating a dead horse".
One thing I know is, when I embraced my mortality and used that awareness to magnify my value of Life, I was revitalized from my grieving. When my Great Uncle passed and in my heart I felt ready to honor him, how he had been an inspiration and role model in my youngest days, it sparked something in me, but that spark didn't last. Now disassociation seems to be my default reaction. The presence of death, the threat of it, can be overwhelming, at my school, we have a children who have lost parents, siblings, and at least one who has a form of cancer that has effectively numbered his days. It's gotten to me. I've lost those steadfast, seemingly immortal elders in my life, and what's left is my parents, whose mortality I am all too aware of, and been wrestling with for as long as I can literally remember. And I'm not getting any younger. I marvel at my great nieces and nephews, who are carbon copies of my nieces and nephews, who I help in my hands as infants, myself still a child. People fret over a doomsday prediction, when we aren't promised the next breath. For me it's a high wire act finding a well-adjusted perspective to cling to.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Sin !!!WARNING! LINKED SONG HAS EXPLICIT LYRICS!!!
Back in High School when I was wheelchair bound after corrective surgery on both my feet (an absolute failure honestly) I was assigned a student to assist me. She was very zealous non-denominational Christian. We had lots of talks. At one point she told me I would make a good Saint. Their use of that term was not the same of the Catholic Church, it was grounded in an entirely different church culture, one that was probably just as mystically inclined, but less hierarchical in organizational structure. Anyway, I took it as a compliment, and considered what it would require of me to pursue it as a goal, but to quote a classmate I thought highly of, "I Ain't No Nun Willie!" and I knew then I wasn't a Saint. I wanted to be, but I was a sinner moving towards the light.
One of the most troubling things that came out of our talks was Profanity and recordings. She said that every time a recording of someone cursing was played, they sinned again. For me this had staggeringly profound implications. I was an MC, rapper, whatever you want call it, and deeply invested in Hip Hop culture, which wasn't a place for the easily offended. I'd thought about getting rid of all my music with profanity in it, not using profanity when I freestyled (which was probably the easiest thing for me to do given I was in control of what I said), but at that point (early 90s) if you stopped listening to rap with cursing, edited out or not, you would ultimately not be listening to rap as a genre, you would be listening to a handful of rappers. The culture dictated the language, image, and in many cases, acceptable behavior of it's young, impressionable practitioners, and I was one of them. I would reason with myself that I could reach more people to share the positivity in my life if I could relate to them through our shared culture. I also remember my elation when a few "polite" artists got a little break now and then which allowed me to feel a sense of solidarity as part of a semi-vocal minority of Conscious & Courteous Hip Hop Heads. But, given the household and community I was raised in, talking like a sailor was something I still held with a little regard in certain company. Colorful language appealed to me in a direct and undeniable way. It had power, added zest, when used for affect in the right context.
Eventually I got into scripture, and not just the IDEA of being Christian and moral in action, understanding the philosophies behind the faith, and their spiritual origins. One of the more challenging ideas for me was that all sin is the same in the eyes of God. I'd heard of the Seven Deadly Sins, learned what they actually were thanks to a movie. In my mind and heart, they couldn't be judged the same. Then I really tried to wrap my head around the Eden scenario, through scripture, and even Gaiman, who's own use of Eden as a backdrop for some of his Dreaming stories, got me to revisit Genesis. I began to understand that the Original Sin was Self-Mindedness in principle, and Disobedience in action. Death entered the world by way of Sin being introduced to humanity. If you could have paradise, eternal life, companionship, and dominion over your domain, so long as you simply follow one rule, given to you by that which made you, and all you know, why would you risk losing it? Well, the answer was simple: The Belief that you could be like your maker, which creates a scenario where you have no need to adhere to the order that was set forth for you.
The Fruit of the knowledge of good and evil wasn't something that Adam and Eve needed to partake of, they were not starving in the Eden scenario, they were simply tempted. They did not know right from wrong, or what would they gain from the fruit. At best we can say they knew God's Will, and their Sin, the original Sin, was Rejecting it. That said, to go against God is to invite Ultimate Death/ non-existence into your life with open arms. We are born into Sin, perhaps in part because we are aware of such a choice, the gift born of that fruit that each subsequent soul has harvested in the core of their being? We are born putting our perspective before all others, pursuing our own intellectual satisfaction rather than receiving and adhering to the direction of those who know better and preceded us.
Those are just some of my ruminations on the subject of Sin, which I learned means "without" in some languages, which is perfect given that all Sin is to act without/ apart from God, and Hell is described as separation from God. I guess that begs the question. "What is God?"
The source of life
The essence of truth & righteousness
Love incarnate
Infinite & beyond comprehension
One of the most troubling things that came out of our talks was Profanity and recordings. She said that every time a recording of someone cursing was played, they sinned again. For me this had staggeringly profound implications. I was an MC, rapper, whatever you want call it, and deeply invested in Hip Hop culture, which wasn't a place for the easily offended. I'd thought about getting rid of all my music with profanity in it, not using profanity when I freestyled (which was probably the easiest thing for me to do given I was in control of what I said), but at that point (early 90s) if you stopped listening to rap with cursing, edited out or not, you would ultimately not be listening to rap as a genre, you would be listening to a handful of rappers. The culture dictated the language, image, and in many cases, acceptable behavior of it's young, impressionable practitioners, and I was one of them. I would reason with myself that I could reach more people to share the positivity in my life if I could relate to them through our shared culture. I also remember my elation when a few "polite" artists got a little break now and then which allowed me to feel a sense of solidarity as part of a semi-vocal minority of Conscious & Courteous Hip Hop Heads. But, given the household and community I was raised in, talking like a sailor was something I still held with a little regard in certain company. Colorful language appealed to me in a direct and undeniable way. It had power, added zest, when used for affect in the right context.
Eventually I got into scripture, and not just the IDEA of being Christian and moral in action, understanding the philosophies behind the faith, and their spiritual origins. One of the more challenging ideas for me was that all sin is the same in the eyes of God. I'd heard of the Seven Deadly Sins, learned what they actually were thanks to a movie. In my mind and heart, they couldn't be judged the same. Then I really tried to wrap my head around the Eden scenario, through scripture, and even Gaiman, who's own use of Eden as a backdrop for some of his Dreaming stories, got me to revisit Genesis. I began to understand that the Original Sin was Self-Mindedness in principle, and Disobedience in action. Death entered the world by way of Sin being introduced to humanity. If you could have paradise, eternal life, companionship, and dominion over your domain, so long as you simply follow one rule, given to you by that which made you, and all you know, why would you risk losing it? Well, the answer was simple: The Belief that you could be like your maker, which creates a scenario where you have no need to adhere to the order that was set forth for you.
The Fruit of the knowledge of good and evil wasn't something that Adam and Eve needed to partake of, they were not starving in the Eden scenario, they were simply tempted. They did not know right from wrong, or what would they gain from the fruit. At best we can say they knew God's Will, and their Sin, the original Sin, was Rejecting it. That said, to go against God is to invite Ultimate Death/ non-existence into your life with open arms. We are born into Sin, perhaps in part because we are aware of such a choice, the gift born of that fruit that each subsequent soul has harvested in the core of their being? We are born putting our perspective before all others, pursuing our own intellectual satisfaction rather than receiving and adhering to the direction of those who know better and preceded us.
Those are just some of my ruminations on the subject of Sin, which I learned means "without" in some languages, which is perfect given that all Sin is to act without/ apart from God, and Hell is described as separation from God. I guess that begs the question. "What is God?"
The source of life
The essence of truth & righteousness
Love incarnate
Infinite & beyond comprehension
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Servitude
Who of us isn't a cog in the great societal machine, a facet of the all powerful "Market" that corrects itself? Markets can't run without vendors or customers, so aren't any corrections made a collaboration between the actors, not the location/ circumstance they are interacting in?
That's just one kind of alienation I see these days, one of oh so many. The things we invent become the things that shape our lives. The things we own dictating our actions, owning us. The conveniences we embrace begin to feel like necessities, and denial of them produces outrage. People are weird that way.
But of course, the one caveat when trying to predict or describe human behavior is this: once they know you're looking, some people change their behavior, just to manifest their need for control, and desire to determine their own fate. Meanwhile, they let the creations of man steer the course of their lives. But that's old news, people have known all this for years, they just weave a more elaborate web, repeating the same pattern ever wider.
That's just one kind of alienation I see these days, one of oh so many. The things we invent become the things that shape our lives. The things we own dictating our actions, owning us. The conveniences we embrace begin to feel like necessities, and denial of them produces outrage. People are weird that way.
But of course, the one caveat when trying to predict or describe human behavior is this: once they know you're looking, some people change their behavior, just to manifest their need for control, and desire to determine their own fate. Meanwhile, they let the creations of man steer the course of their lives. But that's old news, people have known all this for years, they just weave a more elaborate web, repeating the same pattern ever wider.
Hell Bent
Okay, The song in question is a personal favorite to the Nth degree, the Video as well. What's tricky is the emotional state the song evokes in contrast to the title, at least in me. I think more than I act, even when I'm acting like a manic obsessive compulsive (usually happens when I'm building/ assembling, amassing, or organizing things). That said, whenever I feel Hell Bent on doing something or another, it's a self-conscious effort because I'm so aware that I'm going beyond what would be reasonable in that moment.
Am I one of those people who just gets in moods? Am I persistently melancholy? I can't really say, and yet I tend to relate to people who seem to be the latter. But I have a sardonic sense of humor about that. The older I get, the more truncated my emotional range seems to become, if only because the stuff of life becomes more transparent, and it's harder ( and often naive) to have unfettered reactions. Am I as callous as I or others think myself to be? I don't really know. I probably don't think about it as much as I should, or question it. That sense of humor of mine is a handy dandy coping mechanism that lets me coast through at times where it would be more appropriate to turn to faith or some reserve of conviction and hope. Instead I settle for some low-grade existential resignation in place of genuine humility. It's a cheap substitute, which is appropriate since I've become so miserly with my emotional attachment. I don't think that's going to earn me my wings, and if I'm content to go on like this, I truly am hell bent, and that's a shame.
Am I one of those people who just gets in moods? Am I persistently melancholy? I can't really say, and yet I tend to relate to people who seem to be the latter. But I have a sardonic sense of humor about that. The older I get, the more truncated my emotional range seems to become, if only because the stuff of life becomes more transparent, and it's harder ( and often naive) to have unfettered reactions. Am I as callous as I or others think myself to be? I don't really know. I probably don't think about it as much as I should, or question it. That sense of humor of mine is a handy dandy coping mechanism that lets me coast through at times where it would be more appropriate to turn to faith or some reserve of conviction and hope. Instead I settle for some low-grade existential resignation in place of genuine humility. It's a cheap substitute, which is appropriate since I've become so miserly with my emotional attachment. I don't think that's going to earn me my wings, and if I'm content to go on like this, I truly am hell bent, and that's a shame.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Back to the Future
Things have been getting interesting for me this Winter. I've had time to work on the domestic side of life. Making my house homey, or as homey as my tastes can allow. having the winter break helped. I also had time to watch a few movies, and listen to a lot of music, from artists I'd lost track of over the last 10 or so years, only to find I'm really pleased with their development. It's strange to grow up, and realize just how young I was when I got into a lot of this stuff, and the weight of the things I was into, that the artists I took and interest in spoke on. It seems so foreign now, that person I was. I used to write about how Memory was the cornerstone of Identity. To forget was to lose yourself. In a way, to learn is to augment memory via perspective, and in a way, leave your old self behind. And then like acid reflux that old self resurfaces, and you can totally see it coming.
Today I watched something on http://www.pitchfork.com on their tv channel. Daytripping with GZA & Son. If I did the math right, GZA's kid is 20 or 21! He looks a lot younger than that. GZA hasn't really aged, just a stray gray in his beard. They played tracks from Liquid Swords, and I still get geeked up off those tracks. They played a few tracks off Wu-Tang Forever, and it was right on time, cause for the last month I kept thinking about GZA's Shout-Out in the liner notes of that double CD. I loved it, and of course, and was feeling it during the holiday season. Of course his shout out was coarse & succinct, "F a Shout Out!"
Maybe this is what happens when I don't have to put on my big boy clothes and go to work for 2 & a half weeks, stay up all night, or starve myself all day while I work on music or home improvement projects? Revisiting all those contemplative and angsty artists I vibed with, that are still angsty and testing my comfort zone and ability to justify my convictions may have the effect of reviving those things in myself, or at least reaffirming the choices that compelled me to remove those voices from a position of influence on me. Time will tell, but I can feel the angst. I might just have an Occupy MY Street Protest, where I go work on my yard and rake up all those dead sticky gumballs the wind blew down the other day.
No matter what, one thing that has changed above all is, now I am in a home I control, subject to my debts and whatever ordinances apply to me at any given time. That changes everything. What I do there sticks, until I or some force of nature changes it. It's a surreal feeling to not be transitory any more, to actually settle into my surroundings (i'm notorious for waiting months, if not years, to hang art/ decorate) and know, God willing, I will be there for me, and by the grace of God I won't be moving once I'm done with whatever it is I'm in the process of doing. I'm just living these days, and that's Hella Good.
Today I watched something on http://www.pitchfork.com on their tv channel. Daytripping with GZA & Son. If I did the math right, GZA's kid is 20 or 21! He looks a lot younger than that. GZA hasn't really aged, just a stray gray in his beard. They played tracks from Liquid Swords, and I still get geeked up off those tracks. They played a few tracks off Wu-Tang Forever, and it was right on time, cause for the last month I kept thinking about GZA's Shout-Out in the liner notes of that double CD. I loved it, and of course, and was feeling it during the holiday season. Of course his shout out was coarse & succinct, "F a Shout Out!"
Maybe this is what happens when I don't have to put on my big boy clothes and go to work for 2 & a half weeks, stay up all night, or starve myself all day while I work on music or home improvement projects? Revisiting all those contemplative and angsty artists I vibed with, that are still angsty and testing my comfort zone and ability to justify my convictions may have the effect of reviving those things in myself, or at least reaffirming the choices that compelled me to remove those voices from a position of influence on me. Time will tell, but I can feel the angst. I might just have an Occupy MY Street Protest, where I go work on my yard and rake up all those dead sticky gumballs the wind blew down the other day.
No matter what, one thing that has changed above all is, now I am in a home I control, subject to my debts and whatever ordinances apply to me at any given time. That changes everything. What I do there sticks, until I or some force of nature changes it. It's a surreal feeling to not be transitory any more, to actually settle into my surroundings (i'm notorious for waiting months, if not years, to hang art/ decorate) and know, God willing, I will be there for me, and by the grace of God I won't be moving once I'm done with whatever it is I'm in the process of doing. I'm just living these days, and that's Hella Good.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Flood Gates Are Open
So, the time off has worked wonders for my Domesticity and Musicality. Two new Ideas on the 2nd, and I've got a pretty inspiring waltz I'm sussing out at this very moment. Gotta love Drop D and airy arpeggios. Gonna record it full out after work today. This isn't a music blog, but Lord knows this is a blog about finding perspective, and mine brightens when I can do something creative and evocative, even if it only pleases me and no one else.
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