J'suis fou de vous...
For so much of my life I've struggled to close the gap between thought and word. When I indulge in thoughts and when I am inspired to record them, they seem to have all but disappeared by the time I find a pen and paper. Listening to too much music has spoiled me. I partly assume that, as a skilled musician knows exactly which keys to press on a piano for the desired chords, the words will be there when I want to describe an emotion. But so often, when I attempt to write it's as if the chords that I used to know so well produce a horrendous cacophony, and it leads to a kind of anxiety in me, like I never know what's around the corner, a kind of paranoia maybe. Then when words fail us more often than not singing is the mask of our emotion. It's all too easy to turn to a song to represent the emotion we are feeling. But then, when you listen to music professionally, what happens? That's when I start to wonder what if we lived in a completely textual world. What if every word meant one thing and one thing alone and to walk down the street you literally, in some kind of literally-figurative way, would have to climb over letters, words, accents and punctuation marks? What if looking at a set of directions was the exact equivalent to driving to the grocery store, and then, what if the printed receipt in your pocket was truly the bag of groceries in the trunk of your car? Perhaps in this completely textual world, we would keep journals in arias and shanties. We could choose to send emails in chants or percussive beats. But I am truly neither musician nor writer, and instead I walk a delicate line in between the two categories, a pariah to each. So, falling down on the sidewalk's curb to hold my head in my hands, I heave a sigh that in some universe is both literally "sigh" and a d flat chord.