It’s painful sometimes, to listen to this music.
It’s painful sometimes, to think of what I left behind. Lazy, arrogant, insecure and unmotivated. It’s a devastating combination. No wonder so few people read my words these days. I’d like to walk home through a drizzle at three in the morning, bone-tired but so happy because I managed to create something of value, something that increases the value of (my) life. Isolated but aware. I’d like to ski through snow angels. Friendly and convinced. The garage door rises. The garage door falls. There is no other sound here. The garage door rises. The garage door falls. Outside, it’s the remnants of another insultingly humid day. Outside, stasis pretends to reign. (It never does because that’s the biggest secret of the status quo. That nothing remains the same even as it insists it does.) Music is noise is silence is stasis is the sound of people enjoying themselves because they don’t need to think about enjoying themselves.
Fireworks explode, but fail to form trees in my mind.
In a certain mood, everything reminds me of ‘Prince Alone In The Studio’. This is great. This is beautiful. This is solemn not despair. Reflection. Sadly, it still feels painful to hear, to remind myself of what I’ve rejected.
I don’t necessarily miss Everett True but I sure as Fitzgerald miss The Legend! sometimes.
Maybe it’s time to move.