Saturday, May 4, 2013

If I Could Only Become My Songs

Most people measure their lives by judging their lowest valleys and their highest peaks, but lately I've come to the conclusion that any measure of my being is not indicative of these periods. Instead, I believe my understanding of who I am and who I have been reveals itself when my soul is at rest. During those times, I most understand then the core of my personage.

When I am doing things, I am usually so wrapped up in whatever is happening that I lose track of my feelings, and, sadly, sometimes, I am quick to display my emotions. I have been apt to do this even more as I traverse my so-called "golden years." Not only do I release my feelings and my emotions, but I have also become prone to lose track of my most significant intentions.

And, sometimes all this produces Good, Spontaneous Frank and sometimes it produces Bad, Rash Frank. Anyone who knows me well is familiar with my fickle temperament and probably judges me, and fairly so, by the jumbled, often contradictory things they witness me saying and doing during these times. I want to be more pleasing to everyone, yet like Popeye, "I yam who I yam."

I am never satisfied with the mixed impression I know I convey to others, yet, over a past filled with tons of personal fuckups and highlights, I have become somewhat numb to my own public self. I understand this egotistical behavior is not good. It is a very imperfect coping mechanism that has become a lousy habit.

But, I believe (at least I have convinced myself to believe) that when I am alone or in private settings with another, and my keel is even, then I am free to put my unbalanced, restless soul at ease. So, I relax and become the "me" I intend to be -- crusing speed engaged and direction straight ahead.

Although all this sounds pretty fantastic and appears to be just maddening ranting, I have given this subject much, much thought.

I invoke what I consider to be the most soulful bliss at home through recorded music. When I do this, I do not just play recordings to "hear" music, but I play recordings to "listen" to them and ingest them in all their exciting forms. The greater the dynamics of the experience, the more contented I become. I play music with volume because I want to waves to caress me diminuendo and arouse me in crescendo.

I believe I feel the Muses of art. I am not sure whether listening to music beckons Calliope, Terpischore, or any of the other notable Greek godesses; however, when I ignite the switch that feeds the medium, the electricity releases powerful forces that inspire me to become one with music, lyric, and dance. In my case, muses do not lend themselves to create form, but, instead, to appreciate form as it feeds my ravenous ears.

Hearing great recordings on good sound equipment thrills me, no matter whether the music is a song I am hearing for the first time or a song I have heard for the millionth time. When the atmosphere and the emotion and the vibration are righteous, the inviting muse seduces me for hour upon hour. Sorry for the strong sensual, provocative connotations, but often my musical experiences do become spiritually orgasmic.

Oh shit, I see now that I have just confessed to equating the meaning of my old, lonely life to sitting around and bonking imaginary goddesses with my fully cocked, horny ears...

OK, I'm guilty. I do it all the time, and damn it, I live for getting me some of that great sonic love. Sue me, arrest me, ridicule me, put me in a freaky reality tv show, or just hang me by my ears in the public square. I know I am willing to die for my music. It moves me; it drives me; it inspires me.

All I ask of you is to please, not ruin the magic I experience by pulling my fantasty existence toward the reality that CDs are "4.8 inch manufactured, injection-molded pieces of 4.8 inch diameter, clear polycarbonate plastic that can store a total of 74 minutes of digital musical data impressed with microscopic bumps arranged as a single, continuous, extremely long spiral track of data sputtered with a thin, reflective aluminum layer and oversprayed with a thin, protective acrylic layer."

Instead, let it play and let it do its magic. Let all the mojo out to be enjoyed -- the classic rock, the rhythm and blues, the soul, the blues, the Americana, the folk, the pop, the middle-of-the road, the standards, the jazz, the country, the gospel, the bluegrass, the resistable to classification.

If you are wise and appreciate the spice of variety, you will allow your ears to listen to all genres, find soulmates in each, and then allow your soul to open to the unique love offered by each. I believe satisfaction is guaranteed.

I can measure my life in my love for music. My torrid love affair with sound began when I was a toddler and it has never waned. To me, my musical sirens are just as beautiful today as the day I first met them, and they still consistently ignite my passion, my imagination, and my dreams. My music and I have learned to come together, to release the bounds of our real world, and to rise to ecstatic states.

If only my musical soul could live and love in reality, I would surely feel transparent and free. That is so far beyond my expectations that I hold no hope of achieving such harmony. In the meantime, I will continue to struggle with living out my uncoordinated actions and trying to make a decent song of my life. Just let me have a few hours of sound at the end of the day.

So, if you really want to know me, come on over and we can listen to some tunes together. Maybe then, you may understand how my axis is music, and why I continue to choose to listen to the soundtrack of a confusing life each day, reviewing at will all its beauty and poignancy.

Bold As Love

Anger, he smiles,
Towering in shiny metallic purple armour
Queen Jealousy, envy waits behind him
Her fiery green gown sneers at the grassy ground

Blue are the life-giving waters taken for granted,
They quietly understand
Once happy turquoise armies lay opposite ready,
But wonder why the fight is on
But they're all bold as love, yeah, they're all bold as love
Yeah, they're all bold as love
Just ask the axis

My red is so confident that he flashes trophies of war,
And ribbons of euphoria
Orange is young, full of daring,
But very unsteady for the first go round
My yellow in this case is not so mellow
In fact I'm trying to say it's frightened like me
And all these emotions of mine keep holding me from, eh,
Giving my life to RAINBOW like you
But, I'm bold as love, yeah, I'm bold as love
Yeah, yeah
Well I'm bold, bold as love (hear me talking, girl)
I'm bold as love
Just ask the axis (he knows everything)

--Jimi Hendrix

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