digitalMoto.net

You and I
long to live like the wind upon the water.
If we close our eyes, we’ll maybe realize
there’s more to life than what we have known.
And I can’t believe I’ve spent so long
living lies I know were wrong inside,
I’ve just begun to see the light.

Long ago there was a dream,
had to make a choice or two.
Leaving all I loved behind,
for what nobody knew.
Stepped out on the stage, a life
under lights and judging eyes.
Now the applause has died and I
can dream again…

Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone that sees what’s going on?
Read between the lines,
criticize the words they’re selling.
Think for yourself and feel the walls
become sand beneath your feet

(sand beneath your feet)

Feel the breeze?
Time’s so near you can almost taste the freedom.
There’s a warm wind from the south.
Hoist the sail and we’ll be gone,
by morning this will all seem like a dream.
And if I don’t return to sing the song,
maybe just as well.
I’ve seen the news and there’s
not much I can do… alone

Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone who smiles without a mask?
What’s behind the words–images
they know will please us?
I’ll take what’s real. Bring up the lights.

Is there anybody listening?
Is there anyone that sees what’s going on?
Read between the lines,
criticize the words they’re selling.
Think for yourself and feel the walls…
become sand beneath your feet.

Close your eyes…

It seems like a lifetime ago…

I remember sitting on the hood of my car, at the north end of Tuttle Creek Lake outside of Randolph, KS sanding down the first of the porcelain pots I made for my ceramics class with ‘Empire’ playing on my CD player. That song struck me. The lyric, rhythm, and timbre… The closing foot falls in gravel… Living near Seattle, I know that sound. The coast line here is rocky. It takes little effort to find a beach covered in small slippery stones. I’ve walked across a beach that made similar sounds. I know that moment of isolation, self-imposed and otherwise created. I guess it doesn’t really matter where the band actually recorded those sounds. They have meaning for me. The tones create images, reference points for my life.

When that music first entered my life, I had just gotten divorced for the first time and felt lost (as usual). In some ways, it is not so different from my present reality. And there are more than a few differences, over a decade of travel for one thing, another failed attempt at marriage for another.
In many ways I am the same. It is very hard to describe. I am beginning to think this is just my nature, to be outside and slightly out of sync with everyone else. I still feel that male rush of anger, frustration, and even rage. I still feel great pain and suffering. I still struggle with my moods and lack of impulse control. I still can’t balance my checkbook. I find that one rather amusing in a twisted sort of way.

Why have I not moved beyond all of this?

I try. Maybe that is the problem.

Don’t try. Do.

The path of least pain does not seem to be the best one for me these days. Would I be better off, facing my fears, confronting the demons within and about me regardless of the immediate suffering? I have created a situation where I feel constricted, restrained, trapped. I was not mindful of my own actions. It has taken years, just as it takes minutes. The end result is the same. I am not happy. I have many topics to address. I want to be more. I want to climb out of this hole. I want to shed the armour, and find a new better way to move forward in this life. But which way to turn?

I have made a habit out of rejecting those closest to me. If I need help, that is the last moment when I actually want it. And if you get too close I will attack without mercy or reservation… at least in the moment. What a pain in the ass for all of us. Today, I am not strong enough to be weak.

You can’t say I didn’t warn you…

It is a few minutes ‘til 17:00. Heavy rain is falling and I want to be back in my apartment, alone with my computers and code. Soon. Soon I can disappear again from the physical realm and return to this one… this little white box… this flashing cursor. All I need to a running machine and time to download my ideas into the digital matrix.

Time to face rush hour.