Nights Like These

Some nights I just want to talk and have nothing to say. I would like to say these nights suck. They don't. They are so vitally important that after so many nights of listless abandon they are a welcome relief. These are the nights that I can just type. Words come out with out fear. I don't have to try and I don't have to be. They just come forward. It is in a sense magical. Yeah that sounds kinda gay. But, most people I feel have outlets for their emotions and feelings. The only outlet I ever have had was the written word. For some reason when writing, words flow freely. Without thought or rhyme words come out with the intensity to describe my innermost.

It is a shame really. In person the spoken word for me is always broken and shambled. For whatever reason the filter comes off on the page. Words come one after the other. The judgment screen falls apart. It is dangerous. No doubt. So many times I have posted my words, my dreams, my thoughts, and my misgivings on this blog. Perhaps not as often as I should. Perhaps revealing more than necessary. What is life though that is not shared that is not bleed on the page.

The blank page is my canvas. I mentioned before I am not a creative type person. I have that hole in me that needs filled though. It is that part of me that isn't realized until I commit my beliefs and non-beliefs to the page. Somehow once they are down they transfigure into reality. What is a jumble in my head becomes a lucid reality on the blank page.

The fear is there though. Kurt Cobain once sang " I am worst and what I do best and for this gift I feel blessed" I am afraid of my gift. The gift of the written word has always been a real phenomenon to me. I don't want to admit it and frankly to admit is fearful. Once I admit that I believe I have the ability to reach people with my writing is the moment I realize that people can believe for themselves that I suck at writing. I know it not to be true.

I know my writing is not always poignant. It doesn't always illicit thoughtful contemplation. But, it is my canvas none the less. I can't sing, write music, draw, or any other action that might be deemed artistic. Writing though. I own this medium. I might not be Nabkov, Herbert, Dostoevsky, Pirsig, or even Salinger, but the blank page gives me my voice. I know this and it scares me.

I know going forward whether I choose to be a MBA business guru or simply a man with an accounting job that pays the bills, writing will play a huge part in my life. Admitting as I said is miserable. It bring unwanted criticism. I have always shied away from admitting my strengths. I have only recently become hesitantly confident in my intellectual strengths. Admitting I am smart only leads me to failure when confronted with those people that are more intelligent or more knowledgeable in other fields than I am.

What is the point. Nights like this there never is a point. Simply to wax poetic is enough. It releases the demons and draws me closer to the angels. Not that I am demonized only that we all have our demons mine are let go on nights like these.

I have a journal for nights like these. I have a journal for nights I feel nothing. Those are the worst. When you write and write. When those demons stay and you are left feeling the same. Writing change things. Neil Young infamously said recently music doesn't change a thing. The truth there is frightening. The fact that it is a shallow realization is real though. Writing, music, art, and anything that comes from the heart won't change things. True. Only when you connect let go of the linguistics of it all and connect to the truth that is there does it reform. Yeah I used the word truth. Forget the semantics for awhile. When you connect with someone through their creations something happens. It doesn't happen often but when it does. You know it. You can not deny at that moment it has not changed everything.


Here is to a special easter to everyone. It looks like I might actually go to church tomorrow. Surprise, surprise. Thanks to good friends that perhaps care more about my eternal soul than I do.

So I really wanted to post Madame George by Van Morrison (no listings on youtube --sorry) but since Bob Dylan has been a big influence to me over the last couple weeks you get this.



By the way it has come to my attention how pretentious placing songs on your blog can be. Unfortunately, I don't give a fuck. Music can save the mortal soul.

(If there was anyone that ever exorcised their demons through their medium. Bob Dylan is the fucking archetype.)

This one alway gives me the chills though (same song different time -- not the entire song)