Listening to some tracks from years ago, stumbled on this video, think it’s so great, very Ice Storm with all the 70’s retro sort of look to it at the finishing scenes. Listening to Buckcherry and of course, Black Stone Cherry, they’re great.
Working on so many different things that the files are, well it’s kind of out of control. Resisting the temptation to put it all out there now, resisting that feeling of urgency because the goal is for this whole endeavor to be a life-sustaining money-making venture. Getting my head right. Sometimes just trying to sort the mail turns into something taking me to the pages. Noticed that there are several letters rubbed, worn, off my keyboard seems like I should have been farther along with the whole gig by now but that’s life. Writing that first book, that first collection of poems and what I didn’t realize were essentially short stories, my first marriage coming apart, my toddler son sitting with me through much of the editing, I had no idea it would be so many years before I cracked that Crane’s Bond paper box open again and got back to it. Quite a detour and yet, no detour at all. Looking at those pages now, typos, whiteout, name changes, remembering then that it was about the words. I think I knew that once I set about this, the writing, really, well…I know how I get. and then, knowing when I am in that time, feeling it, just feeling that shift. In Cat on A Hot Tin Roof, Brick talks about his drinking and refers to a click that he’s looking for, waiting for, when he drinks.It’s kind of like that, the shift, from thinking something to knowing it, from feeling to believing. From the conception of the words in thought to their appearance on the paper.
Started thinking about what I was listening to when I was writing all those things, owing to another post of my own and really something someone else said about the importance of music, the influence. That first book it was really all pretty much Sara McLachlan, the Cranberries, the Gin Blossoms, The Church and the Smithereens. All very 90’s now that I look at it, I think I was always moving forward,whether I knew it or not, and then with some Pearl Jam or STP, Soundgarden, thrown in there, some jazz, Sanborn, because of a guy I knew who used to bring his sax out to the desert when I lived there, something that I always thought was cool so there’s always some jazz, and copious amounts of BOC and INXS. All my favorite guys from high school listened to BOC, including, well, my husbands. Most of what I was listening to was melancholy, I was writing poetry and in that space, remembering to own those influences. Thinking too then about something someone else said about writers being the story, that we are the story…I don’t like to think that way, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t true in some regard and maybe that does make it more interesting, trying to be objective. I am remembering the words and the first pieces of work that put me on this road.
Did I listen to anything that wasn’t moody? No, I really didn’t then, I was so in it, and that is the thing, to be IN IT.
gotta shake that off right?
( still love those songs)
So while I’m listening to the songs I wrote to then ( possibly some Dokken too) there’s new music and maybe it is that my son plays guitar, pretty well too, and so the live music has continued, keeping me more current than I might otherwise have been.
Own the influences. Working. Remembering. Moving forward.
Sometimes I think, I’ve waited such a long time already, you know? Like there’s no more of it left, just no more waiting left in me and I felt that shift, the last few days…I felt that shift. And then maybe knowing, that’s what we do,
we wind it out, we push it, all the way to the red line.
Noticed I added and ‘s’ in the title on this page. So much work without a computer then. Corny? Oh no, impassioned! it definitely has its value. And to see where I was, to what I can do now, that does make me feel good, about the closest thing to happy that there is some days.
Moody songs. All that poetry, really good primer.