Hello again those who return to read this return of my own to the blogging world. In breaking this "fourth wall" of your browser, I hope to go where only 2 billion bloggers have gone before me. Excited? I know I am - as excited as the time I saw the Space Pope swallow two Banana Squirrels deep within the Amazon jungle. Good times, for sure.
It's nice to have a voice. Be it in the material reality or even this simulated version of it - pixels and numbers and bugs and all. A voice is important. I mean ... in watching the people that hover round - you see it in action all the time. When there are no voices, it all just stops. People talk over and across and around and even through each other. In this reality too - when the voices have no substance ... my words fall flat even as I try to make sense of them, do they not?
A while back, at an older job, there used to be this music video I watched regularly on the TV's hovering around. By this singer ... Jamelia, I think. Superstar was the name of the song. If any of you have actually seen the video, this might make a bit more sense. Now, aside from sounding racist, I don't usually find black women that attractive - just personal taste. But this Jamelia in the video was quite pretty. Singing across from the street or something (the memory fades), I recall thinking - she's really nice to look at. And not in a lewd way - just ... pretty.
And so it goes - and further I would get drawn into the song and the visuals of this beautiful specimen of the female of our species. But then it reaches the third act of the video and, to my horror, she suddenly appears in a club, on stage, disgustingly "tarted up." I know I probably sound really stupid and conservative, but that's not my point. I just recall feeling ... sad in a way ... that here was this really pretty girl, all decked out with a gallon of "lipstick, polish and paint" and I would be surprised to find someone who actually thought she looked better in that closing section than in the beginning. If there is one who disagrees with me on this, leave a comment. I'm curious. A minor lamentation.
Another is the inability to communicate the most basic of thoughts to people I need to do so with. You're separated by a million miles and however many years. You wonder about plausibility and the way one is supposed to communicate. How well do you know this person all that time away? A figment of my imagination, at best. And all it feels like is stumbling in the dark with each word. For a sentence that gets through the static of time and memories, you feel elation that is subdued by the weight of sadness that bears down on you - the difficulty of just saying what you want said. And for it to be understood the way you wish it to. And for that person to ... react the way you would have intended for them to. And then everything else to just follow on "logically" from that. It doesn't work that way - just in the naive mind of one such as I.
Music compells me sometimes. Well, recently, there has been some music that has completely moved me - Coheed and Cambria, Audioslave - their latest albums have been of another level. They speak to me in a way that little music does. There is a lot - but they have a hold on me right now. There's a voice in the guitar play in Audioslave's rhythms. The battle of violins and ... guitars again in Coheed and Cambria. Vocals crying out to be heard. Stories being told - passionate encounters of man, beast and everything in between. And then there's the new System of a Down. To anyone who doesn't take to their music readily, I might seem like a metalhead, but let it be said that in these three bands and their latest work, there is so much beauty that it feels like I might explode from trying to embrace it. So much beauty in this world sometimes ... ;D
Till another day.
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