Wow. Thanks. You have described exactly what this piece is about. Music does take me to magical places within my mind. I’ve got more like it. I will post them.
Thanks again.
Non-fiction / Writings at work
Writings at work
This tranquil, slightly breezy, skin tingling, senses tempting night matches my peaceful mood, my tranquil state. The Beatles speak my soul beat in waves that tingle my skin, wrap my comfort, and generally bring me peace.
“On a night like this,” I’m so glad I found my pen, a quiet seat on a wooden bench, a perfect-lighted street lamp. Nights like this make me want to live out of doors. Nights like this make me realize that what I want is continuously changing.
I feel Thoreau like in my want for solitude, my venous need for nature, and my dispassionate connect to society. I want to be able to read Nature & Economy, converse with Nic about the Great Gatsby, take a sculpture course again. I want to sew miles of untouched material, make 4,759 beads simply because I can, sculpt pictures from art books, have my little brother sleep over.
I want my Ally McBeal like Bob Dylan life theme back. I want my music on at all times. It’s been so long since I’ve studied a Dylan marathon of music, gotten lost in his tambourine beats, seen myself at one of his concerts, listened to a song like “Born in Time” and felt lost in a world of moments.
I listen to songs like “Born in Time” and my soul has an emotional seizure. My spirit and body vibrate with feeling. It’s like my soul is flying through an 80-degree day, falling through the sky, opening under a magnificent canopy of musical colors. I’m soaring around the sky, seeing the world as only a tiny place, made of insignificant man metal, surrounded and shadowed by nature. Trees, rivers, sky, clouds, the air flies into my skin, cools my exoskeleton, and seduces my sensory receptors.
Now the ambulance pager erupts, not with my town but with another. My mood disrupted but Bob still calls to “Angelina,” still calls to me.
I want the mountains. I want to induce retreats into my own mind. I want to sit on mountainsides, casting scribbled glimpses down at tiny red wooden barns while I sketch and write and record these moments, these memories within my mind.
My journal is lonely; my pen has four months past divorced its blank, virgin wood.
My phone interrupts me. I pull the headphones down, shake the emotion out of my voice, and talk one minute, two. Goodbye. Pull the headphones back on and discover that I, like my journal, have been abruptly abandoned. “Angelina” has left; Bob is silent.
Now it’s time I admit my vulnerabilities to this liquid love of pen & ink & paper. I play “Blood in my Eyes.” I am like the strings on his guitar. Played strongly, complimented by rhyming words that are speaking & blending with my toyed emotions.
Now a chill comes over me. This is the same chill that bathes my bones, makes my iridescent, street lamp lit skin look like bony jaundiced joints. This is the same chill that invades my sleeping bag & tramples my good memories.
I want to go out to the racetrack, get dirty & drunk & warmed by a fire with a bit of bambi’s mom or pa in my belly. I want to awaken at 3 A.M. with a confused cloudy mind, throbbing head, ice cold feet & undeniable, unable to be ignored need to pee. I want to trample out, find a tree to pee beside and a beer to drown the throb, and a fire to sit beside.
I want to be in Illinois again, drunk amongst fields of corn & lines of trains & fire & stranger friends. It’s not a lack of life & love or loyalty to the chains that bind that motivate me. It’s what I see, what I experience that push me out of bounds, cause this need to be free.
I want to put pen to paper & capture Nevada Mom Cindy, photos with friends outside of strange city bars, take exit 8 out of Reno to eat that delicious side salad, sit & ride on the back of bikes and golf carts beneath the stars, get lost in my love for Atsion lake & the Pine Barrens, find paths to travel, rivers to swim naked in, and play & swim in wooded channels.
I want to find a way to capture & add onto these moments. I want time to reflect on these tranquil moments of me. I want to walk until I look down & love what I see. I want to be proactive and loved. I want to love & share & grow & discuss.
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DCAllen reviewed Version 1 -
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You are a songwriter. I would love to see you take these ideas and write a song like the ones you show so much respect for in this text.
Good detail: and discover that I, like my journal, have been abruptly abandoned. “Angelina” has left; Bob is silent.
Proofreading notes:
senses tempting (confusing because senses is a noun. This construction should be hyphenated to avoid misreading: sense-tingling.)
perfect-lighted (This construction is unconventional and not grammatical. It should either be perfectly lit. If you want it though, keep it. The other problem is that the street lamp is not lighted; it provides the light.)
Thoreau like = Thoreau-like (to prevent misreading)
venous (Do you mean that nature is in your veins?)
complimented by rhyming words (compli- or complemented?)
street lamp lit skin = street-lamp-lit skin (to prevent misreading)
unable to be ignored need (why not use one word that means this?)
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stormplay reviewed Version 1 -
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I tend to lean towards this type of prose myself so I blended right in though the majority of this piece. The theme is strong with the strong urge for nature or back to nature philosophy. I found the “&” caught my attention more than they should. Maybe you could replace them with the spelled out word unless you are using them for some sort of effect.
I started to wander toward the end not knowing how it was going to be tied up. I fel like this is an open glimpse into your thoughts and for that reason, I cannot say that there should be a certain style from beginning to end but it does start to confuse when you transition from earthly nature to drunkenes in Nevada.
All in all, I enjoyed this pieces depth.
Azazel reviewed Version 1 -
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Well done…
It was a pleasant read to pass the time and offers an insight into you as a person.
dissipatingsoul reviewed Version 1 -
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This writing is something I can easily relate to. Most people I imagine could, I know I constantly find myself thinking about things I want, things that could be, and music is often a cause of this thinking, and can often even take me into a somewhat surreal world, which is entirely manipulated by the music. All in all I really enjoyed reading this, and as the first non-fiction piece I’ve reviewed… well, any future ones have a high standard to meet for me now.
knightmirror reviewed Version 1 -
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what can i say about this that would do this justice….
i loved everything about this…
from the refrences of songs and how they made you feel….
which in turn gave me the same feeling…
only on a different level because i didn’t experience it firsthand…..
from the descriptive love for nature and the beauty in this world that we as men haven’t yet destroyed….
not to mention the one love we share the most which is for the pen that leaks our emotions upon sheets of paper ever reminding us of what love is…..
this gave me an overwhelming sensation of contentness that resurrected beautiful memories of my own that i had taken for granted and not thought of for quite some time…..
thank you for sharing this and resufacing memories of mine that are truly blessings in disguise…..
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