Awakened by Travesty - 3 Floyds

(Written July 11th - posted today)

I'll be 41 in less than 2 days. It's nothing to celebrate. As I get older I am beginning to see that birthdays are commemorations of failure and depression. I've felt off-kilter for about a year, and I don't know if it's because I have done so many stupid things that enrage and destroy my reality or if because I am growing jealous knowing my stories will die and my ideas falter while I drag my feet or find myself a job.

I want a cigarette. I haven't smoked in years so I don't think I want one for more than the way the tears will come to be spurting from my eyes.

I want a chance to be calm - to be joyous. And I have learned after all these years it's not in the hollowness of church-life. I'm not worshipping a god or even my God. I am just going through the paces of being in an established order. It's a rigmarole; or maybe it's that I lack a beating heart any longer and thua I am unhappy.



I love music, in case you have never noticed it in my blogs. Pink Floyd's "The Great Gig in the Sky", is a pure expression of love. My writing is measured, watched, censored, lost and found. I have come to really hate my MySpace blog, and the lack of interest it's generated from people on-line. I am thinking it was a real waste of time, so it may need to be deleted. Disappear, like I want to disappear; sadly not from my friends and lovers on-line, but from my family & acquaintances here in Texas. BAMF!

As I sip my coffee, I am listening to Pink Floyd on YouTube while processing my thoughts. One of them is that I had to recheck my own spelling, since I couldn't recall the way to spell 'rigmarole', which I thought was 'rigamarole', and thus this entry stalled for several minutes.

I pride myself on the way I speak, using clarity, diction, and deliberacy of phrase and thought for words; words are so incredibly powerful, filled with emotion, creation and death. People have no idea that their words can be so strong, and they don't know how to choose the right ones for anything more than the moment of delight or to sate their appetite.



Words, unlike the shell we hold, are immortal, and they will live on so much longer than we can imagine. Words make and keep the moments, unleash the fury of our hearts, and let us visit plateaus some of us can't imagine without acid on our tongues, or Hendrix playing in our minds, a Woodstock we'll never know, a Nirvana we passed the chance to see.

Fickle Fortune ... sadness and glory. A lacking and a gain; all the world in a grain of sand and all your wants blown off like dust in the eye of a storm. Momentarily tranquil- then it's gone.

I've done much in life and little. Maybe this is the Karmatic result of my actions: anxiety & fear.

Thanks for listening.


~J~




These are the lyrics to "Time" and "Home", with the verbal introduction to the "Great Gig in the Sky", all taken from this website:

http://www.allfloyd.com/lyrics/Lyrics.html

And all three songs come from "Dark Side of the Moon" - isn't it a shame that it's taken me so very long to finally see the strength of these words? Maybe that's why they've substained me without me knowing why ...


Time (Mason, Waters, Wright, Gilmour) 7:06

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way.
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way.

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain.
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today.
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you.
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun.

So you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again.
The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older,
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.

Every year is getting shorter never seem to find the time.
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over,
Thought I'd something more to say.


Breathe (reprise) 7:06

Home, home again.
I like to be here when I can.
When I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire.
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.


The Great Gig in the Sky (Wright) 4:44

"And I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, I
don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying?
There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime."

"If you can hear this whispering you are dying."

"I never said I was frightened of dying."

(Instrumental)