Nothing is really the same anymore. The old town is still the old town and the exit off the parkway still takes me down the same road. A lot of the neighborhood has changed though. Different landmarks have had a facelift and some are just gone. Some of the stores have closed. New ones have opened. The streets are the same but most of everyone I knew has either grown older or moved away. Some of us lost touch and some have grown so distant that we would be unrecognizable to each other now.Continue reading
I’d have sworn it would always be this way, our youth, the summer, the waterfront and the early mornings after the long nights, driving home into the sunrise and then finding my way through the door to crash for a few hours. I’d have sworn I could always do things like this. I thought I would always be able to run forever, as fast as I could, and I could live my life on the edge.
I’d have sworn this was the truth and that age was only something that happened to old people. And me, I swore that I would never grow old. I would never let that happen. Not on my watch.
I would never lose the rush or the need for adrenaline. I swore I would always have the feeling of life at the sunset and the bars down by the waterfront. The lights were bright. The music played and I was an entirely different version of myself.Continue reading
There comes a time in life where age happens. We grow older and then we look back. This happens in the different stages and in phases, which begin from childhood and grow with us until our final days. Old chapters close so new ones can begin.
Sometimes I am touched with a hint of nostalgia. Maybe it’s something in the air. Maybe it’s the change in the season and the cool winds that represent the mornings of early fall are a trigger for me. And then there are October sunsets, which appear golden as ever — or maybe it’s the way my thoughts narrate in my mind; as if to tell a story of me, reliving the old days, back when we were young and free to be crazy.Continue reading
Nothing is ever the same as it was. Nothing is the same as when we grew up. The kids from the town were the kids from the town and the friends we had are the friends we’d swore we’d have forever.
The places have all changed since then. So have the dress codes and the fashion statements. It seems the whole world went out to get a face lift.
I look back and I think man, I’ve come so far and yet, I wonder to myself, “Where the hell have I been?
I think about the times and the days and nights and the paths I took to get me where I am now. I think about the pain and the glory and the glory and the pain, which I flip-flop because reality has a way of doing this to us. I think about the misrepresentations of life and the ideas that somehow; life has to be a certain way.
Everyone knew when the lights came on it was time to go home. These nights were nothing like anything we would ever see again. We were living in the best moments of our lives and at the beginning chapters of what comes after young adulthood.
I remember these days both fondly and introspectively. I say fondly because yes, these were great times. There was always something going on; however, I say introspectively because I regard these moments as a timeline of travel. This is when life took on a new shape and speed. I swore I knew it all but then again, who doesn’t know it all when they’re young, resilient, and out of control.Continue reading
I was deep into my time at the farm. I had nearly forgotten what it was like to wake up in my own room or sleep late. I was living a dorm life in a farmhouse. The rules and regulations were never my favorite. Neither was the showering times or the bathrooms.
I have to admit it, like it or not, the replacement of time was me, away from my regular home in a quasi-institution.
It was just another morning before noon in my town. I was walking towards home after a crazy night and trying to piece together the events from the day before. Randy pulled up in a white van. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail with a blue bandanna wrapped around his forehead.
Randy’s eyes were bloodshot and red. He was already fueled up after drinking from a bottle of 80 proof cheap whiskey. He was ready for trouble. This was for sure. But then again, so was I.
The music was blaring from the radio. There was a lit Marlboro cigarette hanging from his teeth with a long ash that was slightly bent and curved downward. As Randy pulled up, a cloud of smoke poured from the passenger window. The smell from the smoke proved the end of an obvious smoking session that Randy just finished.
There was a roomful of people. All of them were artists in their own way. I was there with Pete. The only problem is Pete was a wise ass and he always had something to say. I had never been to a showcase before.
This is where actors do little skits. This was almost like a play, but not exactly. Each performance was extremely different. Some of the performers were talented. Others were a bit more abstract or bizarre.
I say this has to be necessary to live. I say the festivals and the concerts and the times in the park when someone had music to liven the mood, or the times when youth was most alive is, was, and will always be enhanced by the sound of the music we played.
I know this is true. It has to be.
I say this is necessary. I say the music is partly how we live and breathe, partly how we feel, partly how we unwind and partly how we remember the crazy episodes of our life. Music gives depth to our senses and livens the pictures in our memory with color.
Please believe me on this one.Continue reading