Sitting at my desk with a blank page, I slip into the music, letting it seep into my skin and into my blood stream. I hope it will go directly to my brain and spark more than just my autonomic functions, anything just to keep this alive.
Just sit and feel the vibe. If you try to think, you will lose to an unremitting rollercoaster of thought that hopes to draw some meaningful conclusion about how to “get your life together”. This track spawns all kinds of judgment, where as none was needed before and your life resembled something it should. Now you can only see the cracks and holes in a foundation you never thought out before, a foundation you doubt existed. Where were you when it was built? No doubt that something this severe couldn’t ever be built without your consent. This thinking forces you to realize the blind hand you volunteered in the helping; in the building of you. Now comes the guilt, the regret; I’ve built wrong; I’ve built selfishly; I’ve built without direction; I’ve built without the proper tools; I’m over budget; I’m under budget; and I haven’t finished anything in it’s entirety. The structure has become a lazy catacomb of unmarked, unfurnished nooks with gaping openings where memories spill out into the foyer.
one has ever taught me how to build; yet building happened, and I was made.