Hera Be Dragons

Over the edge, Over again.

Darkness envelops physicality, while sentience wanders free and unhindered.

The curse of the left lifted.

These beautiful molecular genii…

A friend of mine is recording me singing on one of his tunes tonight.

AAArrrrggghh! I hate you.

I will give ’til it’s all gone and you’ll turn round and spit in my face.

Sold my phone to keep my job. Lost my job. Still got no phone.

Apostrophes dance in a good sentence.

Take a good look. You’re no big deal. You’re so petty. It’s a lie! Naaaaaaahhhhh…

They still feel justified in their use of “retaliatory” force. From the mother of “turn the other cheek.” From the father of GREED.

Get me another fucking Lattæ.

God, I still owe him money and when he reads this, I’m sorry! Speak to you tomorrow.

Various Fawlty Towers/Monty Python references.

I wish I’d gone to Henley College and studied Classics. I told a girl I did the other day. Turns out I’ve read enough to blag it!

Zeus’s thunderbolts shake the sky – John Hurt in I, Claudius. Now “Little Boots” was a free man. Branded “Tyrant” by the S.P.Q.R. Tyrannical Taranis, the same in Gaul. No Homer for the Gauls though. And the New Romans? A bumbling, fat, drunk, father of the year.

When you hear/read a real line of poetry that makes you feel alive – “Let my armies be the rocks, and the trees, and the birds in the sky.” – Sean Connery quotes Charlemagne.

I wish my father could read this and be proud.

Wonder if I should get a blonde streak? Or a silver one?

This is the result of 25 minutes of writing down things that came to my head. I think this disproves the myth that men think about sex every 7 seconds. I confess I thought about heroin three or four times but it so distracted me I neglected to write it down. No Kubla Khan’s were lost though. Tonight I shall sing out the frequencies of Pi. Bring back to me, Isis, what I need to make my life complete.

Perhaps my problem is very few women compare to Goddesses. I met only one. Lay and loved with only one. She was Calliope, Aphrodite, Persephone, Pandora. Now she’s just another scar on my heart.

No doubt the next one I fall in love with will be the same. Mortals outshine the Gods by virtue of their fleeting brevity. Ugh! I’ve been alive too long already!

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Single minded

If single-mindedness were an art form, I’d be rich. But it isnt, and I’m not. Thinking I would write a new blog I discovered the only thing I could think of to write about was music. Having just spent three satisfying hours playing it, two hours walking back home thinking about the music I’d play next rehearsal, and the rest of the evening writing lyrics, one could be forgiven for thinking an alternate subject might present itself.
No dice!
Even the time spent writing this has yielded the absence of a pork cylinder. Could it be that I’m possessed? Oh, no, that’s the wrong word; incest? I remember… Obsessed.
Most likely.
It’s consuming though, you see. Lyrics for songs, arrangements for songs in development, melodies, harmonies, rhythms, riffs, constantly running round n round my head. It never stops. People wonder why I get so agitated by “shit” music (i.e. music I don’t like). Because I, and in my experience, any one else schooled in Musick can’t not listen to, analyse, and generally focus on music playing in a given situation. And while that may be just annoying to some, for me, it interrupts the flow of composition and creative fermentation. It touches a core of me, a place that shouldn’t be sullied. I feel as disgusted and ill when I hear such things as I do elated and alive when I hear the music I love, that sustains me through life. Melodramatic it may sound, but I think I would die without music, and my life would have very little meaning had I never discovered it or if it didn’t even exist.