Everything feels a bit too uncomfortably comfortable of late. In the meantime we hold on to the edges as our fingers sizzle under volcanic heat. My one friend calls it the “comfort zone bunnies”, this comfortably uncomfortable state we are all living in. Everyone hiding in their corners. Slowly and silently loosing their shit.
Dance Lovelies Dance, but be careful now , I hear the invisible people shouting, as they point to feet dangerously dangling, sometimes touching the small chair, as the noose grips skin and lips turn blue. And still… the music and heat gets turned up to drown the sounds of death approaching, choke by choke.
Where is the miraculous, I ask myself? Where are the giants and mythical beings, the hero questing? I am flatlining and I know where my mind turns to in dark times like now. It crawls back into a lost fold in time and throws one of my most expensive thoughts at me. A thought that sings…I’d rather be a hammer than a nail. Yes I would, if I could.
So I end up writing music… to write music. Like fucking to fuck. Forget making love while the sun glows golden on your skin. Nah, bruvs, sometimes a fuck is just a fuck. A cathartic release. This is what music feels like now. Deep house music that ain’t deep at all. More one night stand music with “insightful” lyrics to give the evening a veneer of respectability.
And so my one expensive thought returns. Only this time I freeze it in place. You shall not pass, I shout into the void with Gandalf like authority. And then I remember the laughter and dusk., despite myself. Now I have more answers in search of questions along with raging desire that howls, ” Why am I here if not to make music? What the hell is the point of it all?”
Ah, now I get it…. That’s why the expensive thought returned. To remind me of the clicking into place feeling. The “this is where I feel safe” knowing. A knowing I forgot as my lips turned blue and I choked. A click I forgot about as I busied myself with other things. As I ignored what matters most. It wasnt so much a click as the sound of my heart unfurling and a remembrance of my days worshipping the sun. Love and Music share the same frequency.
This is the way of it. Pandemic or not. Every minute is a balancing act. We loose our shit and find our way. We cling to thoughts and memories that offer some kind of reprieve. Or those memories surface unbidden and surprise the hell out of one. Fuck. Or maybe I just miss hearing that song as the light leaves the sky. Nah, bruvs. That thought is too expensive to entertain.
Love and Music share a frequency, that’s all I need to remember. At least I know what I am low on. Music makes lying about anything impossible. But…yes, I would if I could…. Click. Click. Bang