Music that makes me alive
There are songs, tunes and performances and performers, that go straight to my emotions without the analytical phase. They cut me open, shatter me to pieces, I feel a large ball of heavy energy over my stomach, I feel paralized, my hands and feet get numb. My mind gets numb. and I feel so sore like I was yearning for something that I don’t know of yet and I may never know. For something that could be just Right if it was here and I’d be in the right place.
And when I listen to them I feel like I’m alien to everything and everyone and everything is alien to me and only in this particular music everything is just right and I’m right. And I want to get inside that music, and I can’t, so I get even more sad. And yet I keep listening over and over, because it makes me feel, I feel more alive than I am without it. It’s like touching open wounds to feel the touch at all.
Everyone has their own inner music. Mine has a lot of air, as much fire, and a lot of great sadness. I see sounds in colours and feelings. I can touch the sound, feel its texture. I can see its colour and how it changes.
Robert Plant’s voice and way of singing is grey-blueish, smooth and steel-like cool and soft wind-like airy. It shatters me a little bit more every time. But I’ll keep listening. This is the cost of beauty awareness. If I didn’t hurt when I listen to music, I wouldn’t be aware of its beauty. It makes me seriously wonder about my life and my soul, and who I want to be, it makes me better. Or at least I think so.
A dance that was totally wrong
I was on a trip with my friend A and we ended up in some kind of school, where we were supposed to participate in dances and other recreational activities. I remember only that she liked one of the men in staff and I offered to pick him up for her, because she was too shy to do it. He was also in this dancing group.
We were supposed to dance a hanter dro, which is a popular Breton type of dance, and only I knew the steps. They tried to make me dance something else and it was completely out of the beat. And besides, they danced to the right, not to the left; what the hell were they thinking? I’ve no idea.
I was also walking about the school and meeting people, but I don’t remember anything else.
My sleep has been more sound recently and I don’t remember as much as I would like to. It could be that I’m simply tired (I also sleep more than usually), but I have a suspicion that my friend Good Wizard has something to do with it. He’d like me to have a nightmareless, peaceful sleep, so he might have blocked too much. And the eight hour sleep doesn’t give me as much rest as usually, I often need a nap during daytime. Or this might be the recurring lack of serotonin issue, I hope it isn’t, or I’m going to waste another few months.
A way of sharing
My good friend told me that my voice has changed. My singing has changed. It’s been changing for the last few months, and I don’t know if the change is done already. After last week everything has changed. The singing changes if the singer becomes different, I suppose.
I used to perform without emotions. Or with fake emotions. Not opening up, not letting anyone in. Going towards technical perfection (which I lack, but I’m working on it). There are people who observe emotions of others and they might use their conclusions against someone. A little Soulgaze, if I may use a reference to popular sf literature.
The last few weeks changed that. My goal now is to “rip away the top layers”. It needs concentration, emotion, perfect conditions. I only managed it once. I sang one sweet, sad song to my dear friend, as I promised him. He had his soulgaze and he appreciated. Something changed after that. He said I’m becoming someone else, and he wouldn’t say anything more, because he didn’t want to disturb the process. He said that I’m actually making a difference. I give something good to people. And that I should take from it too, because there’s enough magic in my singing for the whole planet and myself. That’s why I started singing on parties, recently, when someone asks me for it. This is the only way I can share my love for friends with them for now. It’s the only possibility for me to open up.
Even a musician who doesn’t actually like songs told me that my singing’s improved (it was after a few glasses of wine, but anyway). This must mean something.
My singing now lets me get rid of pain and sadness. Or sometimes to embrace them so they become more familiar, more… mine. I know I won’t get rid of them entirely, because they’re part of me, and I can’t simply cut that off. But singing helps keeping me from getting shattered more and more. And sometimes even glues some little broken pieces together.
