There is no novelty in the suggestion that we create pegs for our memories. Little hooks on which we hang the vast array of sensations which constitute what we call an experience.
Postcards, pictures, photographs.
For me however, music has always been a more convenient system of labels with which to work with, Most of the important events or emotions in my life have come to be associated with songs and lyrics.
I don’t know how it happened and how it crept up on me, but one day I realized something that gave me a strange sense of contentment.
The hooks had shifted on the pegboard. What I had assumed to have been linear and static had turned out to be dynamic. The notes and words no longer reminded me of faraway frustrations,anxieties and joys. Instead, they now only reminded me of you.
I’ve never been a believer in the One or the Sign and I’ve never asked for them. No Fates or Destinies. No visions of a single world to be.
Yet what I’ve found now is a recalibration that orients towards a new purpose, one of a quality unique, nostalgic but new, cleansing and true.
A reason for sound.
There are probably two reasons why I haven’t been back here in nearly a year.
1.) The whirlwind of life-changing events that has occurred in that span of time and,
2.) quite frankly, complacency in finally having figured everything (or the important things at least) out.
I got my reminder today. A reminder that there’s no real cruise control. Frustration? Futility?. Part and parcel. Helplessness in regression. Anger at the inexorable and inevitable.
Roll out the fuse. Pay it out even when it feels like it’s at the end. There are no real viable alternatives. You can either burn out or blow up and I want neither.
There are ebbs and flows which confer certain trends to the progression of experience. My account here has gone through several thematic and paradigmatic changes but somehow I find myself going back.
Here I am 3 years in. Reconstructing. Still dreaming.
"'Di ko na kayang mabuhay sa kahapon
Kaya mula ngayon"
A medium I once used to dismiss as pretentious is now one that sounds to me like thought in harmony.
The tinkling notes that fall like rain. The color of gray sky memory.
The layered riff that begins the tension. A piecing together. A picture painted.
And then the drone. The textualization, texturization. Rendering.
The thrumming bass. Always a heartbeat, but now also growth. Also the ether of the new. The air after the sky.
And then the beat, the drums. Action. The release.
In speechlessness it speaks to me.
The fade, my amen.
And I don’t feel the same"
Why is it so terrifying to stand up for what you think is right?
We need those heroes and heroines. As preposterous and unrealistic, as over the top as their exploits may be at times, we need them because when we are at our apathetic worst they remind us of the one decent thing we can still do.
The longer we travel these roads the further they seem to be from each other.
how is it every time I think there’s nothing left you take away a little more