Archive for the ‘lyrics’ Category

There are parents who put their kids in front of the T.V., my parents, mainly my mom, put me in front of the radio. My love for and addiction to music has always existed, without fail, without choice. Though my dad, for all intents and purposes, is a musician, this hunger and appetite comes from the woman who loved him. It is the biggest gift anyone has ever given me.

My mom once said, “I know you’d go crazy without music. That’s why I always made sure you had stereos and radios.” And she did. From transistor walkmen to turntables to boom boxes to shelf units, she’d supply the needle for the vein in my soul that throbbed and begged for the sticky, thick, melodic dope. When I’d stumble out of my self-constructed fortress of musictude, I’d be in the midst of hers.

Cleaning, cooking, driving, showering, sitting. Music was her white noise. I’d see her moving about in the trails of her mundane activities with a look of warm, emotional, vacation. What was she thinking? Who did she miss? Where was she? How did she end up here? Very often, my dad would be simultaneously concocting his own cacophony in compulsed madness just ten feet below us. Though you could hear it, we didn’t. Not really.

Life had dragged her and I over, around and under the country, following his dream. Seedy bars, dirty hotels, Colorado ski resorts, Ohio beach houses. It’s rumored I slept in a mostaccioli box in the back of van. Kentucky commune, faceless roadside motels, lake cabin in Wisconsin, all interspersed with stays at gramma’s, music watched over our souls.

My dad’s dream never came true. Or so I assume. Everyone grew up. We started staying in one place and sleeping in our own bed every night. Music keeping it’s position,  yet now more of a follower than a leader.

I once read that music activates the same brain activity as math. Math being a thing I excelled at without effort, I attributed science to my attraction, just like any other junkie looking for a justification. But that’s a lie. Music is my mother’s milk, my history. It is the home movie chronicling a love story. The story of two teens who fell in love, got pregnant, got married, chased after and ran from each other, leaving their blue eyed, towheaded baby in the care of what brought them together only to tear them apart.

I believe that creativity and mood alteration go hand in hand. It does not have to be rehabbed by substance per se…just whatever muses you into that floaty dreamy space, where all that is not your creation, ceases to exist. It is simply you and your scourge of a media. The fact of the matter is, in TRUE creativity,  you need a barrage of these things,  and that makes it tiresome. Up until recently, I have often felt cursed like Sisyphus. My self fulfilling prophecy of a hotel career reeks of  a beggars need for validation. I am a hospitable killer. I require the whetting of inspiration. The times it eludes me, I am befuddled. Chasing the dragon is my toil. I am primed by conflict and  I am readied by music. I am cured by love…and solitude. Love plays a big part. I crave more. I admonish it. Yet, far be it from me,  to circumvent the human idolatry of “LOVE” as a place we’d like to visit but do not want to live. I am the whipping boy of empathy and artistry. I never chose this. We live in a world that people sing about “licking it before we stick it.” There are many ironies in my writing about creative ironies. Oddly, I am inspired by a 2 Live Crew song…”If you would lick my soul, I will suck your funky emotion.” I see beauty in words…I hate when I find them, especially if they are good. The last thought I have is:

“Dear music,

cc: writing

You are my penance and and resurrection.

Could you be gentle to me?

I only want you to hold me up.

This human girl needs you to hold my hand.

I’d rather not part…

Or i shall TRULY lose my birthright.

Normally…

I hate your face.

Tonite…

I want you to hold me and tell me stories about when you grew up.

It’s your turn…

PLEASE…

Release me with your grip.

**looks down…shuffles feet and mumbles about my compulsion to be heard…and abandoned….and the fact that I got a lot of lotion for Christmas**

destiny

Posted: December 18, 2010 by JMiz in alone, confusion, destiny, lonliness, love, lyrics, me

for a few weeks now…maybe months…ive had an inkling. it makes me really question kizmet and things i know to be true…fights all my inner damage and false truths…but why do i revisit the same thought? WHOSE RESPONSIBLE THIS?!?! WHOSE?! well, sir, i think its YOU. D-DAY is coming…i feel it in the air tonite oh lawd…