yard sale of the mind
In my world, there is no ONE band that can fit every mood of my life. Some music has come pretty close, but even the power of U2 and Concrete Blonde have moments where they sound like a rock in the gearbox.
For some reason, when I am touring in southwest Oregon the music that fits the mood I'm in is Pink Floyd. I don't know what it is, but somehow the majesty of these misty mountains and their tropical rain forests just demand some Pink. I could listen to "Comfortably Numb" on repeat every second that I am here, so it's probably a good thing I don't live here. That could get old pretty fast.
Music has wonderful way of cleansing the mucked up parts of your brain. In extremely "bluesy" moments I can listen to the Cowboy Junkies, Nina Simone or Morphine and all the crusted-on depression just flakes off and flies away. When I need a soundtrack to accommodate my more frenetic moments that have me bouncing off the ceiling or embarrassing whomever I am with at the moment, nothing says, "coked out freak" like a little Faith No More, Front 242 or Thelma Houston. Give me a mood and I will tell you what songs are on it's playlist. I like living life that way. I feel sad for deaf people. That has to be the hardest thing to life with. (See how long you can go wearing a blindfold. Now put on industrial strength headphones that block out all sound. Which do you think you will take off faster?)
This week's mood for me: Mental spring cleaning.
For the past few weeks I have been working hard on getting myself moved into new digs and starting a new chapter in my career, so I haven't really been able to reach out to anyone or take care of personal business. My writing has dipped into a place where a wee bit of darkness has crept in and made most of what I'm writing seem pretty sinister and borderline sociopathic. Not that I mind the sociopathic part, I will freely admit to being a sociopath, but I try not to let it dominate my creative hipster lifestyle. The sinister part - It has a time and place, but it's a bad idea to have it post after post after post. Even my personal emails, which I have been avoiding for some reason, are pretty short and pointless. That's a sign that there is something wrong in Danada.
I was sinking pretty deep and I thought I could explain away all of the darkness, but the truth be told, the move had nothing to do with my recent mood. This mood is my own creation and I was just using the move as a convenient scapegoat. I have some things to work out here... Thank you, Pink Floyd. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.
The mountains of southern Oregon are full of beautiful trees. I have written about them many times, but no matter how many times you see them, they're still inspiring. You're not really sure if the trees look this way on purpose or if they are this splendiferous because there is no shortage of moisture with the ocean only miles away. It would seem like a crime to cut down a beautiful tree to use it for lumber in a subdivision and I think the trees here now this. That could be why they seem to have a beauty that almost sings.
If you forget that the ocean is nearby, there is an abundance of clouds that grace the sides of the valleys here and they fill the air with a softest hint of sea water. I think that the salt in the air actually accentuates the smell of the foliage that grows here, much the same way it accentuates flavor in food. Perhaps this is the area where they came up with all those different fragrances for air freshner; The Mountain spring, Ocean Mist, Deep Pine and Hidden Valley Ranch - This could be the spot. They are all here, floating around and mixing with each other. It's a glorious experience. (Comfortably Numb playing for the fifth time)
As the powerful magic of Pink and his fellow Floydidians fills my chariot, and the vision of the Cascades surrounds me on all sides, my mind has little trouble letting go of some of the deeper, more obnoxious and pestering issues that have haunted me over the past few weeks. I can feel all of the "feeling sorry for myself" and the "people piss me off" emotions loosening their strangle-hold on my thinking.
I first noticed the change of attitude right before I went on stage. I was watching my opener, fueling my desire tank with show fuel and suddenly I was overwhelmed with laughter. I went on stage in Grant's Pass, laughing. I have never walked on stage laughing before. I did a 90 minute show and I loved every minute of it. I can't remember the last time I didn't walk on stage and think, "for the money". The next night in Coos Bay (a notoriously shitty gig in the world of one-nighter comedy) I had the same amount of fun. The only common denominator with the two shows... A whole lotta Pink and Floydidians. And a vastly better attitude.
Of course, the Oregon coast has that affect on me every time I'm near it. I mean, it is where I want my decapitated ashes spread when I die, after all. So maybe the thought of eternal life filled with endless bliss is paramount on my mind and that is scaring away all of the "poopies" from my attitude.
It could be that I just needed some reminders that life isn't to be taken so seriously ALL of the time. With all that you can see wrong with the world and with all of the burdens that you know lay ahead of you, ultimately... It's not that bad. It's not. There is injustice, and life is unfair, but if you're not dead and you're not in some kind of jail, then life is perfect. The struggle that you sense all around you - that's life trying to remind you that you're alive. And in my opinion, it's incredibly entertaining to be alive. When all you see is the darkness in your life, remember that most of it is created by your own shadow. Which means that if you turn around the other half of you is bathed in light.
Sometimes it just takes the words of a soul lost in more darkness than yourself, like Roger Waters, to remind you that life is pretty exciting.
For some reason, when I am touring in southwest Oregon the music that fits the mood I'm in is Pink Floyd. I don't know what it is, but somehow the majesty of these misty mountains and their tropical rain forests just demand some Pink. I could listen to "Comfortably Numb" on repeat every second that I am here, so it's probably a good thing I don't live here. That could get old pretty fast.
Music has wonderful way of cleansing the mucked up parts of your brain. In extremely "bluesy" moments I can listen to the Cowboy Junkies, Nina Simone or Morphine and all the crusted-on depression just flakes off and flies away. When I need a soundtrack to accommodate my more frenetic moments that have me bouncing off the ceiling or embarrassing whomever I am with at the moment, nothing says, "coked out freak" like a little Faith No More, Front 242 or Thelma Houston. Give me a mood and I will tell you what songs are on it's playlist. I like living life that way. I feel sad for deaf people. That has to be the hardest thing to life with. (See how long you can go wearing a blindfold. Now put on industrial strength headphones that block out all sound. Which do you think you will take off faster?)
This week's mood for me: Mental spring cleaning.
For the past few weeks I have been working hard on getting myself moved into new digs and starting a new chapter in my career, so I haven't really been able to reach out to anyone or take care of personal business. My writing has dipped into a place where a wee bit of darkness has crept in and made most of what I'm writing seem pretty sinister and borderline sociopathic. Not that I mind the sociopathic part, I will freely admit to being a sociopath, but I try not to let it dominate my creative hipster lifestyle. The sinister part - It has a time and place, but it's a bad idea to have it post after post after post. Even my personal emails, which I have been avoiding for some reason, are pretty short and pointless. That's a sign that there is something wrong in Danada.
I was sinking pretty deep and I thought I could explain away all of the darkness, but the truth be told, the move had nothing to do with my recent mood. This mood is my own creation and I was just using the move as a convenient scapegoat. I have some things to work out here... Thank you, Pink Floyd. Thank you for showing me the error of my ways.
The mountains of southern Oregon are full of beautiful trees. I have written about them many times, but no matter how many times you see them, they're still inspiring. You're not really sure if the trees look this way on purpose or if they are this splendiferous because there is no shortage of moisture with the ocean only miles away. It would seem like a crime to cut down a beautiful tree to use it for lumber in a subdivision and I think the trees here now this. That could be why they seem to have a beauty that almost sings.
If you forget that the ocean is nearby, there is an abundance of clouds that grace the sides of the valleys here and they fill the air with a softest hint of sea water. I think that the salt in the air actually accentuates the smell of the foliage that grows here, much the same way it accentuates flavor in food. Perhaps this is the area where they came up with all those different fragrances for air freshner; The Mountain spring, Ocean Mist, Deep Pine and Hidden Valley Ranch - This could be the spot. They are all here, floating around and mixing with each other. It's a glorious experience. (Comfortably Numb playing for the fifth time)
As the powerful magic of Pink and his fellow Floydidians fills my chariot, and the vision of the Cascades surrounds me on all sides, my mind has little trouble letting go of some of the deeper, more obnoxious and pestering issues that have haunted me over the past few weeks. I can feel all of the "feeling sorry for myself" and the "people piss me off" emotions loosening their strangle-hold on my thinking.
I first noticed the change of attitude right before I went on stage. I was watching my opener, fueling my desire tank with show fuel and suddenly I was overwhelmed with laughter. I went on stage in Grant's Pass, laughing. I have never walked on stage laughing before. I did a 90 minute show and I loved every minute of it. I can't remember the last time I didn't walk on stage and think, "for the money". The next night in Coos Bay (a notoriously shitty gig in the world of one-nighter comedy) I had the same amount of fun. The only common denominator with the two shows... A whole lotta Pink and Floydidians. And a vastly better attitude.
Of course, the Oregon coast has that affect on me every time I'm near it. I mean, it is where I want my decapitated ashes spread when I die, after all. So maybe the thought of eternal life filled with endless bliss is paramount on my mind and that is scaring away all of the "poopies" from my attitude.
It could be that I just needed some reminders that life isn't to be taken so seriously ALL of the time. With all that you can see wrong with the world and with all of the burdens that you know lay ahead of you, ultimately... It's not that bad. It's not. There is injustice, and life is unfair, but if you're not dead and you're not in some kind of jail, then life is perfect. The struggle that you sense all around you - that's life trying to remind you that you're alive. And in my opinion, it's incredibly entertaining to be alive. When all you see is the darkness in your life, remember that most of it is created by your own shadow. Which means that if you turn around the other half of you is bathed in light.
Sometimes it just takes the words of a soul lost in more darkness than yourself, like Roger Waters, to remind you that life is pretty exciting.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 2:37 PM
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