Hello! It's gonna storm. There will be a great release of energy. I need to release some. I need to take it a day at a time. I need to unwind.
Last night I came home feeling accomplished and shellshocked and reached for my guitar. I played aimlessly and tunelessly for a couple of minutes. I felt torn in several directions, tired and jumpy and hopeful and miserable, but nothing came out in my music. I then grabbed the capo and changed keys and realized that I was in standard tuning and could play my harmonicas along and then I just released. I have a new set of steel on my Epiphone that hurts my fingers, but I didn't care. I played for so long (apparently my parents don't live with me anymore, so no one was home :)). I don't know if it sounded miraculous or hideous and I don't care. I let it all out, what a great release, what a necessary catharsis. Music is my love, one of my few true loves, and it just felt good to play for no one except maybe my cat and a few curious spirits who may have been floating by, wondering what the hell was making all that noise. I learned from Neil Young that if you soak your harmonicas in water you get a clearer, sharper sound. It was fun just to wail a ghostly wail, sing my uplifting songs of woe. I have either bruised a bone in my left middle finger or have a welt there from playing, so it is hard to type, but I feel a resurgance, a remergance, a forlorn hope. Break it down! Love and only love can break it down!!!
I bought "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty and found real solace in the words. It's sort of the traveling companion of the loner. It moved me very deeply in the car last night, after I'd finished my paper, after I'd finished my high school observation. I turned the radio loud, "too alone to be proud." Wow. "I'm not afraid anymore/ It's only a broken heart."
The best, however, is the bit Adam e-mailed me yesterday: "It's time to move on, time to get goin'/ What lies ahead I have no way of knowin'/ But under my feet, baby, the grass is growin'/ It's time to move on, It's time to get goin.'" Thanks, man. Our's was a trip of renewal. Thanks to Herbie, too. It means a lot to have you guys there, even if you are stupid. :):):)
I had vowed never to post when I felt bad (and I really don't now) but I'm not gonna adhere to that anymore. If anyone reads this, you're gonna get the gamut. No frills, no collar, just the faded and ripped t-shirt of my subconscious.
Release me.
Last night I came home feeling accomplished and shellshocked and reached for my guitar. I played aimlessly and tunelessly for a couple of minutes. I felt torn in several directions, tired and jumpy and hopeful and miserable, but nothing came out in my music. I then grabbed the capo and changed keys and realized that I was in standard tuning and could play my harmonicas along and then I just released. I have a new set of steel on my Epiphone that hurts my fingers, but I didn't care. I played for so long (apparently my parents don't live with me anymore, so no one was home :)). I don't know if it sounded miraculous or hideous and I don't care. I let it all out, what a great release, what a necessary catharsis. Music is my love, one of my few true loves, and it just felt good to play for no one except maybe my cat and a few curious spirits who may have been floating by, wondering what the hell was making all that noise. I learned from Neil Young that if you soak your harmonicas in water you get a clearer, sharper sound. It was fun just to wail a ghostly wail, sing my uplifting songs of woe. I have either bruised a bone in my left middle finger or have a welt there from playing, so it is hard to type, but I feel a resurgance, a remergance, a forlorn hope. Break it down! Love and only love can break it down!!!
I bought "Wildflowers" by Tom Petty and found real solace in the words. It's sort of the traveling companion of the loner. It moved me very deeply in the car last night, after I'd finished my paper, after I'd finished my high school observation. I turned the radio loud, "too alone to be proud." Wow. "I'm not afraid anymore/ It's only a broken heart."
The best, however, is the bit Adam e-mailed me yesterday: "It's time to move on, time to get goin'/ What lies ahead I have no way of knowin'/ But under my feet, baby, the grass is growin'/ It's time to move on, It's time to get goin.'" Thanks, man. Our's was a trip of renewal. Thanks to Herbie, too. It means a lot to have you guys there, even if you are stupid. :):):)
I had vowed never to post when I felt bad (and I really don't now) but I'm not gonna adhere to that anymore. If anyone reads this, you're gonna get the gamut. No frills, no collar, just the faded and ripped t-shirt of my subconscious.
Release me.
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