Darkness
Strange things have happened with the music. So I'm playing around with a progression from one of my developing songs. And a new song begins to come out. It's all stream of consciousness, just a simple turnaround over and over. And then words start coming. Literally singing the song as I am writing it. This has never happened to me before. It's usually a hook or just one or two lines that seem to fit just right. And then I'll go back later and work on the rest of the lyrics, give it a theme, a name, a personality. I know that may sound rather rigid and mechanical, but believe me, it isn't. Yet it is structured. But this came out of nowhere. And I find myself scrambling to open up Word before I forget them.
And here I have a song about leaving home - the dark side of leaving home. Not about running away and starting a new life, escaping, overcoming, and taking over the world (as I have always viewed leaving my homestate). But a song about the ones who never made it, the dead, the hopeless, the fallen, drug addicts, single moms, and AIDS cases.........the people whom I grew up with. My friends.
And it hits me.
I am alone. This is the price if being the one who makes it out. You have no tangible past. And after all the victories and exhuberation of running far far away and creating something wonderful for my life, I have no old friends to turn to, no funny reminiscence of the past. No history that I can see or touch or taste.
I have always found sentimentality to be depressing. Why live in the past when there is a future of endless possibility.
But even still.
I am alone up here. And after a year and a half of struggle and success, I feel my first tinge of loss. Loss of the things I left behind and the people I estranged. The loss that comes with leaving your home behind.
Leaving everything behind
Absolutely everything.
I thought the dreaded question. "If I could go back, would I have done the same thing?'
I never liked that question. Because I was so certain it was the right choice. "Never look back". But having finally asked it of myself, I had the answer.
Yes. I would have done the same thing. Because I hated that life. Because I was never really a part of that world. Because goddammit, I survived. And now I have a future.
But that doesn't make it any easier.
Strange things have happened with the music. So I'm playing around with a progression from one of my developing songs. And a new song begins to come out. It's all stream of consciousness, just a simple turnaround over and over. And then words start coming. Literally singing the song as I am writing it. This has never happened to me before. It's usually a hook or just one or two lines that seem to fit just right. And then I'll go back later and work on the rest of the lyrics, give it a theme, a name, a personality. I know that may sound rather rigid and mechanical, but believe me, it isn't. Yet it is structured. But this came out of nowhere. And I find myself scrambling to open up Word before I forget them.
And here I have a song about leaving home - the dark side of leaving home. Not about running away and starting a new life, escaping, overcoming, and taking over the world (as I have always viewed leaving my homestate). But a song about the ones who never made it, the dead, the hopeless, the fallen, drug addicts, single moms, and AIDS cases.........the people whom I grew up with. My friends.
And it hits me.
I am alone. This is the price if being the one who makes it out. You have no tangible past. And after all the victories and exhuberation of running far far away and creating something wonderful for my life, I have no old friends to turn to, no funny reminiscence of the past. No history that I can see or touch or taste.
I have always found sentimentality to be depressing. Why live in the past when there is a future of endless possibility.
But even still.
I am alone up here. And after a year and a half of struggle and success, I feel my first tinge of loss. Loss of the things I left behind and the people I estranged. The loss that comes with leaving your home behind.
Leaving everything behind
Absolutely everything.
I thought the dreaded question. "If I could go back, would I have done the same thing?'
I never liked that question. Because I was so certain it was the right choice. "Never look back". But having finally asked it of myself, I had the answer.
Yes. I would have done the same thing. Because I hated that life. Because I was never really a part of that world. Because goddammit, I survived. And now I have a future.
But that doesn't make it any easier.