It’s been time to write a post for a while now. Hell, it’s been past time for a while now. But…
Yea, there’s that damned but again. God, I hate that fuckin’ word.
What sentence, statement, wish, or thought ends well that has the word “but” figured prominently in it?
Ahem. Anyway…
I still find the time to write nowadays. In between meetings and research and accounting and planning — and all of the other things that crowd the top of your To Do list when you’re opening your own business — I still try to make time to write. Unfortunately, there really isn’t anyplace near me where I’m comfortable enough to sit in the corner and lose myself in the words.
Well, not until the Depot opens. Then…
Then, all bets are off. And, shit, do I love that thought.
When worries about costs and fees fill my days…
When thoughts about lights and tables and chairs keep me up at night…
When stress about licenses and certificates and approvals wake me in a cold sweat…
I picture myself sitting in the corner and writing. And I smile.
The joy this whole process has brought cannot be overstated, by the way. Oh, not just my joy — and trust me, there ain’t really a limit on just how much freaking joy this brings me — but the simple, honest joy of others, too.
The joy of my friends in this new home of mine at the promise of a place built to bring something different — something real — to a town with little on offer besides corporate schlock…
The joy of my dad’s friend at seeing his grandfather’s picture still hung on the wall of the vestibule…
My dad’s own joy at seeing the happiness grow in a son more known for cynicism and writing about the dark side of life…
The joy of that son at building a legacy — a legacy not just for a father, but for a grandfather and a great-grandfather…
Look, if I don’t stop now, I’m gonna go all writerly and start trying to cram a series of profound thoughts and emotions into a two-hundred flashfiction piece. I think I’ll skip that, for the moment.
I’m going to skip ahead to the end of the story, actually. I don’t know about other writers, but I write — and think! — in images. Most of the time, when I write a piece, I have a final image I want to leave in the heads of my readers. That finally image is always intended and designed to elicit certain specific emotions and thoughts.
On this blog, I tend to replace that final written image with a musical thought. I use a song in place of a mental picture to try and convey some of the thoughts and emotions that went into the creation of the post. Honestly, the best way to really understand what I write here is to listen — and pay attention — to the music I post.
Oh, it doesn’t always work. Sometimes my mind — and my writing — changes direction in ways my ear can’t keep up with. But today…
Well, if today’s post ended up being a short bit about joy, rather than what I first set out to write, the song I initially thought to build around still holds some very real elements of truth. Plus…well…it’s really fucking good. It is, in fact, one of the two or three most evocative songs I can think of (and I can think of a lot of songs). It also happens to be one of my favorites…and I don’t mean just from this specific band. For me, this song stands up there among other, far more well-known songs & bands.
{Musical Note — just turn the volume up. No, really, turn it all the way up and let the music wash over you! That is how I write, by the way, with music blaring in my ears and the world held at bay. That is when I write the most — when I feel the most — when the music is felt as much as heard, and the world is nothing but a distant tug, easily ignored.}
Finding My Way Out 