Music . . .
Safe to say that I have my own soundtrack that fits my life. Safe to say that yes, there are songs and various types of music which depicts or defines my best version of happiness.
And sure, not all tastes are the same. Not all music is the same and yes, I can say that I like different songs for different reasons. I like different music for different reasons too.
I like the way a song can come up out of nowhere and bring me back to a time long ago or forgotten yet a song comes on and just like that, I remember everything.
But more, I can say that I have a compilation of songs that remind me of good times and bad. I have songs that are bittersweet and some, well, some of the songs on my personal playlist are songs that help unlock the emotions to a time or a place.
What I am about to tell you is something that I say often. I say this often because it is true.
I think that kids today missed their chance to hear the great bands or see the greatest shows.
I’m not sure this generation understands what it was like to get lost in a record store for hours and flip through the albums of different bands.
I swear –
Kids today do not know what it is like to buy an album, take it home as fast as you can and play it over and over, just you can remember every word.
And dancing?
Does anybody dance anymore?
Does anyone know what it feels like to be so swept up in the moment?
So crazy.
Does anyone understand what it’s like to be so moved by the rhythm?
The lights are bright and the music is enough to make you forget about everything else in the world.
There was a morning I spent alone while sitting on the hood of my old, beat-up, four-door Chevy. It was summertime. I was facing the ocean in the Hamptons.
Southampton, to be exact.
I remember thinking about the night behind me and the day ahead. I had just finished portraying an act, of some sort. This means I was out with the crowd and thus, I had to act in order to behave for the crowd – or better, I had to pretend to know how to stand or how to lean on the bar. No, seriously.
I used to rehearse this in some, small way.
I’d rehearse how to act like nothing mattered – and whether the girls noticed me or talked to me, who cares, at least that was the act.
But the truth is, I cared.
(A lot)
But not so much anymore.
I remember this.
I was trying hard to pull off my best James Dean because I wanted “to be cool.”
I wanted to be beautiful.
I tried to perfect my outfit. I tried to perfect my stance. I tried to perfect my character and my personality yet there was so much going on. There were so many different things on my mind.
I had far too many questions and too many worries about the life which was ahead of me.
Who was I?
Who did I want to be?
Who did people see me as?
Why was I pretending to be anyone else?
And . . .
If this is life, how long do we have to wait before we realize that bullshit is bullshit, in any language.
When does it come to the point where our understanding comes along to lift us to a better level of awareness?
I don’t think the answer to the questions above are the same for everyone.
Yet, I’m not asking this question for anyone else.
I’m here for me.
In any case:
I sat on the hood of my car on a morning that came after a long night out with the boys. I was fine to be alone, at least at that time I was. I was fine to be away from the bullshit and the egos. I was fine to be away from the sarcasm and the bullshit banter that goes back and forth.
I was fine to be alone because I didn’t have to pretend or pose or try to perfect my posture. I didn’t have to dodge any of the passive/aggressive character assassinations that come with being part of a bullshit clique and spending time with bullshit friends. To be clear, that’s a lot of bullshit.
But that was my youth and young adulthood.
There was a lot of bullshit going around and for me, socially anxious and always on guard, I had to work to keep from being the low-hanging fruit.
You know the ones, right?
I didn’t want to be the easy mark or the fit the role of the low-man in the crowd who took far too much shit because being with someone was better than being alone.
By the way –
I was wrong about that.
I was listening to Pink Floyd, which is music that was far different from the music that they played in the club I had just left just a few hours before.
My ears were still ringing and my head was slightly thumping. But my heart and my mind was elsewhere – and I was elsewhere too – wishing for elsewhere things.
Music has always helped me during moments like this.
The emotional quandaries, I mean.
I was looking for an answer. I was hoping to find a key that would unlock the door so that I could pass through (whole) and be fine on the other side.
I wanted to open that door so that I could live in that next chapter of my life.
And that’s why I am here now.
I am on the verge and close yet, far and here I am still, which is where I should be and where I want to be (waiting).
I tell you music is a key that opens the mind to different memories.
I can say there are songs that I listen to when I am alone.
I choose to listen to this when I am alone because there is something so quiet and so refreshing. There is something to the music and something about the lyrics which I can hear these songs and I can let myself go.
I can lean my head back. I can close my eyes and picture a person, place or thing. .
I can let my emotions go and, if I choose, I can allow the music to unclog the tears – just so I can feel or scream or cry or dance.
To be clear, I have never been much of a dancer, which is not to say that I’ve never danced or that I don’t dance. No, I know how to dance.
I know how to let the lights shine on me. I know how to sweat. I know how to place my arm around a woman and have my hand at the bottom of her back. I love this part because I love when my hand is positioned just right, to feel that curve in her spine – just above her ass and her hips are like a sexual eruption to me while she moves to the music.
I still have this idea and I swear that I will do this one day.
I can say this is a dream. I can say this is a fantasy.
I can call this a night under the Miami moon.
I can think of the places in South Beach which I have heard of, but at the same time, I have never experienced this for myself. So, yes. I have never been there and certainly, I’ve never danced there.
But I want to.
As in – I really want to.
My choice of music and playlist has evolved over the years.
Then again, I have evolved over the years as well. And so have you.
But at the same time, I can come across a song from my youth or hear a song that played during the time of my young adulthood – and just like that, it’s like the time when I worked at 909 3rd Avenue all over again.
I love it when these songs play randomly.
I love it when an old song comes on out of nowhere.
And it’s the intro. You know?
It’s the first few chords.
It’s the opening of the song and, just like that, it’s like it was back before the year 2000 which, if you ask me, it’s hard to believe that was almost 24 years ago – or should I say it like this . . .
At least this was almost 24 years ago at the time of this entry.
Man time sure flies by pretty fast.
I have love songs and songs that define moments of victory. There are songs that I enjoy because hearing them unlocks the inner-rebellion and next, I can let my rage scream from my body.
I can let my soul free and my aggression escape in the wild motion of some heated or sexy dance.
And yes, it is sexy to dance.
In fact, I don’t think there is anything sexier than this – to have your arms wrapped around someone you love and together, the music acts as a binder that seals and solidifies our connection.
Ah, I love this.
So, in this regard . . .
Would you care to dance?
With me, that is.
I remember listening to Hendrix. I remember listening to an album for the first time. There was a song called And the Gods Made Love.
I loved it.
Then there was May This Be Love.
Or then there was Third Stone from The Sun and there are others that I always loved.
There was a song called, The Stars That Play with Laughing Sam’s Dice.
But that was with Hendrix.
And there’s more too.
I remember being young and open to the mind-altering experience of say, Lucy in the sky, which she was – and with diamonds, no less. This was the Beatles reference to a crazy moment in the haze of psychedelic mischief.
I remember hearing music which became the various and influential anthems of my youth.
Better yet, perhaps it is better to say that the anthems of my youth can act as a roadmap to my younger and previous existence.
But then again, I have evolved.
So have you.
So have we . . .
And so has our taste in music.
So yes. I agree with you.
Music can tame the savage beast.
Perhaps, we can say that music can soothe the soul or at the same time, music can incite the riots in our heart or entice us to rage, out-loud, rebellious as ever.
I believe this.
I believe that love needs a love song and me, I have an infinite playlist for this as well.
Van Morrison knows all about this. So does Elton John when he sings about Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters.
I say this because I have trashcan dreams as well. Yes, I’ve stood at the edge, “while people run you through,” and equally, just like the song says:
“I thank the Lord for people out there like you.”
I thank the Lord for people out there like you . . .
I can only say this: I have my heart and my arms and my might and with all of this combined, I agree with Mr. Dylan
(Bob Dylan)
“I know you haven’t made your mind up yet.
But I would never do you wrong.
I’ve known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my heart where you belong.”
And it’s true . . .
“I’d go hungry.
I’d go black and blue.
I’d go crawling down the avenue.
No there’s nothing that I would not do.
To make you feel my love.”
Come to think of it, I remember when Billy Joel song his Lullaby called Goodnight my Angel.
This was to his daughter but for me, this was from me to you.
I remember hearing this and yes, I thought of love.
I thought about the love I have in my heart and I thought about the daringness it would take to share this love.
At the same time, I want to be this way.
In love.
I want to love you so much that I can be strong enough to rock you to sleep at night –
and keep you safe.
There is nothing that I would not do.
Yet, there is so much that I need to do
(to make you feel my love).
Maybe I need a night in Miami like the one I dream about.
Or, maybe I need a night in the city.
Or, maybe I need to build that prom I never went to – and if we could, we could dress up as if we were going to the prom together – and we could get a limo. We could dance. We could dare the edge of our love and feel the sweat from each other’s body.
Or, we could end up at the beach when daybreak comes – because yes, I’ve done this alone before. But this time would be different because this time I would be with you.
I am not so certain that I can always say or do the right things.
In fact, I am often certain that I can frequently say and do the wrong thing.
I can do this quite well which is why I write to you.
I do this because my pen is my truth and my words come out easier this way – like a man with his guitar.
I can’t sing much. I can dance some. And I can’t play an instrument.
I might not write well enough to be on the best seller’s list.
But I can write you a letter and send it with care.
I can pour my heart out on this page and so long as I do –
No one can take away the fact that I’ve put it all out there.
So, to hell with the critics.
Behold the music to soothe the savage beast or feed him, or turn him on like the sound of sexual energy, pulsating through my skin, or behold the peaceful lullabies that drift him to sleep, or – behold the lullabies that cause him to dream and hope that a day will come and all is settled.
Behold the sound of music that surpasses the hours of daylight and in the light of a drowning sun above the horizon over a blue and mystic bay, we can lay on a hammock and smile and say, “ah,” because regardless of what took place “before,” and regardless of whatever happened after – at last, we are where we are supposed to be – together.
I wonder what song we could listen to while swaying in a hammock.
Any thoughts?
Picture it – the sun is up and beyond the hour of dawn.
All is quiet. The world is perfect and me – well, I could use a good song right now.
I could use a nice slow dance. I could use the breathtaking moment of laying beside the true version of love, in a hammock, and the sun has already come along to do its trick.
I think we need a good song for this.
One that would be better than any other.
I want this moment to be so unmatchable and memorable that nothing could ever compare to it.
If ever I am sad or alone, I could play the song that we chose to hear and just like that –
That’s it.
I’d be right there, once again, dancing a slow dance in my mind or swaying in a hammock on a white sand beach. Palm trees behind me and you in my arms –
smiling . . .
The Written Addiction 