Music

Alive.

This year has been a tough one. I lost one of my best friends, and don’t know if we’ll ever mend. I watched people hurt each other intentionally, and I’ve gone through waves of emotion rendering me an idiot, or at least for that which I can recall. Oh, but I’m still alive.

Garden State

Andrew Largeman: Fuck, this hurts so much.

Sam: I know it hurts. That’s life. If nothing else, It’s life. It’s real, and sometimes it fuckin’ hurts, but it’s sort of all we have.

But you know, I’m not looking for consolation. Maybe a day or two to mourn my idiocy, grieve at its cost, and then get on with life. You know why? Because I’m alive. I’m living. Sometimes you bleed to know you’re alive.

The Doors

Jim: What turns you on?

Pam: I don’t know. Experience. Freedom. Love… Now. Peyote’s like love. When it’s given it’s blessed. When it’s sold it’s damned. I like peyote. I like acid, it’s easier to get. I like the spiritual voyage. The first time I did acid I saw God. I did. I had a friend who was Christ. And he was Judas too. I suddenly knew the secret of everything — that we’re all one, the universe is one. And that everything is beautiful.

Jim: Is it? I don’t know. I think you’re alive by confronting death — by experiencing pain.

Pam: I think you’re alive by recognizing beauty — seeing truth because when you discover truth you discover what love is… we’re all saying the same thing. It’s “love me and I’ll love you.”

Jim: It’s only through death that you know life. Jesus, medicine men heal people by sacrificing their own life.

Pam: Do you love death?

Jim: I think life hurts a lot more than death. When you die the pain is over.

I’m lead to The Doors Alive, She Cried. The name of the album is a line from When the Music’s Over (which isn’t even on the album)… “Can’t sell my subscription to the resurrection… I’ve got some friends inside. A feast of friends, alive, she cried… waiting for me, outside. … We’re gettin’ tired of hanging around…” There’s a few of you that know the undertone that these lyrics carry into the depths of my personal philosophy (sorry, the link won’t help… what you don’t know, you don’t know).

As one of the “walking dead”, the difference between life and death, living and being alive play just a prominent role in your psyche and authenticity becomes more precious than most anything you can imagine.

You Make Me Real, you make me feel, you make me throw away mistaken misery, make me free.” Lyrics whose fingers touch the most intimate spots, and then there’s the sultry blues… Can you imagine The Doors with Willie Dixon on Little Red Rooster?!

And for my momma who taught me about how the melody can move me, and made the thought that if I’m ever lonely I just have to go to the record store to visit my friends (my momma was a hippie)…

… Not only can I tell, I know who it is. It’s Darryl.

Daughter: It’s unfair that we can’t listen to our music!

Mother: That’s because it’s music about drugs and promiscuous sex.

Daughter: Simon and Garfunkel is poetry!

Mother: Yes it’s poetry. It’s poetry of drugs and promiscuous sex. Honey, they’re on pot.

Daughter: FECK YOU!

Mother: HEY!

Daughter: This is a house of lies!

Mother: Well there it is, your sister used the “F” word.

Little Brother: I think she said “feck.”

Mother: What’s the difference?

Little Brother: The letter “u.”

Momma, I’ll gladly trade the “f” word for my music. What’s the difference?

In my life, it’s you.

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