I don’t know what life would be like without music. Then again, I don’t know what my memories would be like without the songs or the anthems of my youth.
I just don’t know.
I used to love my early morning drives. I still do.
I love driving off when the sun comes up and the music from the radio in my car is not too loud, but loud enough to let my mind slip into different rhythms.
The sun is coming up behind me and I am off and gone, just driving in my own mindless way, carefree and disconnected, if that makes any sense.
My mind is elsewhere as I drive down the empty parkways at sunrise.
My body is operating in autopilot, which means my surface thinking can be free to dream while my body takes over to do the rest.
I am thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.
Come to think of it, I am told the average male thinks about sex 97% of his day.
I wonder if this makes me above average.
You think?
I am sure that you will agree that different music fits different moods. I can remember back when it was cool to have a big stereo in your bedroom. I can remember the mood lighting in my room, which were all flashing and psychedelic for sure.
I remember the first memory when I spent time with a girl.
Well, not my “first time” but this was a different kind of first for me.
This was in my new room or should I say my adult room.
I was only a kid but a young man too.
We listened to the song, And The Gods Made Love, from Jimi Hendrix. Coincidentally so, we made love too. Or if not love, we did our best and lustful representation of making love.
It’s strange and funny. Yes, I shake my head at my youthfulness. I wonder what I was thinking.
I laugh at my unaware heartless nature because, in all fairness, I had no idea how valuable times like this are supposed to be.
I can say that even if the love gods were to bless me fortunately, I will never waste my time, or my breath, or my love again by moving too quickly and missing an opportunity to enjoy or savor the moment.
Safe to say I was too young or too ignorant or too inexperienced. I didn’t understand the beauty of this or the imperative need to slow down to a most beautiful crawl, as if to edge myself up to the explosion; or as if to bring myself back down and keep the orgasmic relief at reach.
No rushing, not fully exploding, and making this last (of course) longer than the quick, youthful thrusts, which was me (back then).
Just get it in and feel the quick satisfaction of a premature finish.
If I am being honest, that’s just not enough for me anymore.
I want more.
I want it all and I want this forever.
Why would anyone want to feel such great things and only endure them for a quick few seconds.
Make this last, I say.
Then again, youth was on my side and my time to reload was quicker than the way my body works now. I am alive and well in my post 50’s. While I am obviously decades beyond my prime, I am still capable of love and lust and the Zen of beautiful intimacy.
From wild to mild.
Blind, crippled or crazy.
I want to be this way forever.
But not randomly or on command.
I want this to be meaningful now and more wild than any dream my mind can conceive.
I can say, however, I remember listening to a song called In The Light by Led Zeppelin and, too, this is another song or sexual anthem that seems to triggers my memory.
“Just when I needed you” is another song.
and this one holds a special section of my heart.
But this entry is not intended to be sappy or soft.
No, I have a harder truth which is more celebratory and joyful.
I can save the sappiness for another time.
I promise.
I enjoy music. I enjoy this more than for reasons of a recollection that comes with sexual victories. If I am going to be truthful, I can also call them sexual tragedies, or losses.
In fairness, I can count my best sexual moments on one hand. I can remember the music I listened to at the time or how different songs were able to speak for me or explain my thoughts, feelings, or the emotions I had at the time.
I am not young at all. Or if I am still young, then I am not young as far as youth is concerned. I am young enough to still know the sound of music. I am young enough to understand the thrill and the adrenaline of a great dance.
Bright lights. Heat.
Sound. And yes. It’s on!
The beat of the drum and the sound of the bass.
The feeling of something hypnotic or entrancing.
Think about the anthems of your best memories.
Think about the way music gives our memories substance and depth.
Think about how these anthems outline your love or detail the beautiful tragic moments in your life. Or think about how a song comes on, out of nowhere, and triggers your heart like a sign that tells you your true love still loves you.
I have different songs that mean different things to me.
I assume you do too.
I assume most people have songs that trigger different memories or touch the receptors and trigger the adrenaline in our soul.
I know I do.
This chapter is new to me.
Life has changed. However, my experience has shown proof that I can use what I have learned from my past. I can learn from this. If I use my lessons properly, I can redirect my future to a happier sense of enjoyment.
And that’s what I want to do.
Enjoy my life.
I enjoy the soundtrack of my past, which I am going to remember.
I need to do this so I am able to allow myself a new depth and brightness for my future soul
(or soulmate).
No matter how old I am or become, I will always appreciate the late nights, and the feel of the hot lights in a smoky atmosphere. I will always appreciate the need to dance and sway or to see a pretty girl with her pretty smile. I love the thought of her wild eyes, crazy and sexy, unhinged and uninhibited, dancing with her “dance with me” stare.
I love the idea of her looking at me as if no one else in the world exists, or needs to.
Why would anyone hold themselves back or be so reserved in moments like this?
Why would anyone refuse themselves the freedom of a late-night dance session?
I think of this, sweaty and tempting. I think of how this hints with the sexual overtones that serve to get us home or back to a hotel and get between the sheets, just to dance and sway once more.
Dirty, you say?
I disagree.
Then again, maybe dirty to me is perfect.
No holds barred. No limits.
Kiss everything.
I don’t care how hot it was or how sweaty we became.
I love it!
No fears or insecurities; just a connection that causes us to want someone more than we want air to breathe, water to drink, or food to eat.
That’s all . . .
I am far from innocent and far from prude.
I am not inexperienced or a stranger to quick, or random and anonymous moments.
I understand the rules or the engagements of one-night stands.
But like I say, I can count the greatest moments of my intimate life both easily and heartily.
And I may be alone for now.
But this does not make me ungrateful.
I mean, hey, sure.
Beds are great!
But at the same time, doing it on the floor in someplace inappropriate and unacceptable is pretty hot.
All I ask is you grow old with me.
At the same time, you have to promise me this
blind, crippled, or crazy . . .
We will never get old
(together).
Oh and by the way, don’t forget to press “play.”
I think we all need some good music to give depth to our memory.
Don’t you?
The Written Addiction 