Up early today. Like every day. “Needed” to hear Doolin Dalton and Desperado from the album of the same name. The Eagles for those of you who do not know. 2nd album, 1973. It occurred to me that there simply would not be time enough to play the soundtrack of my life. At my funeral. And besides, there’s the dilemma of deciding whether to compile the list entirely myself or invite people I know to contribute. To the playlist. You know, when the time comes.
“Girlie feelin’ low today?” you wondering? Naah. A little solumn perhaps. A bit serious. Maybe it’s that time of year. For awhile now, pretty soon after waking up, they’ll be a song playing in my head. Before I turn on the computer, before checking the weather on the TV. Out of the pre-dawn silent, stretchings I will hear either the melody or lyrics or both, to a song. A new song. An old one and frankly, at times, a song from who knows where!
Earlier this week, I was surprised to wake to the internal strains of Quicksand Jesus. Damn! Tell me Glenn I don’t really know the gestalt of that one. LOL What is it. How is it, that more times than not, it’s simply easier to express myself through music? Sure. It’s personal. Totally subjective. Listening to “sad” songs may not be because I’m sad. “Metal” songs are not angry for me. They put a smile on my face.
As a clark, I find the medium of music an absolute necessity. It is the lifeblood. clarks relate to the world from the intellectual, the rational realm. Somewhere along the line, through no conscious choice of our own, the emotional, non-rational was deemed “a red-headed step child” (apologies to you guys. really!)
In the absence of music, either someone else’s or my own, how would I express myself? Writing? There’s that. Solitary. Of the mind. Music. Listening. Of the body. Luckily both are about feeling. Here’s to a most excellent weekend for everyone.