twelve days

I haven't written in twelve days. I haven't really opened the computer in twelve days. It's not a deliberate action, I've simply been absorbed with other things.

I'm listening to old music, and remembering times that I didn't value as they happened. Times that were fogged by my idea of how they could be improved. I value them now, at this moment, because I see how fleeting they were. How important they are and always will be because they are a part of what has transpired to create who I am.

I remember when we were recording this album, and how critical I was of myself, and the music. I couldn't listen to it without cringing for a long time. And now, I hear this sound that was, and is, so important. We made the music that we wanted to hear, the songs that told the story of what we were at that time.

I'm soaking in memories.

I remember how focused I was on the room for improvement. Somehow I didn't see how descriptive we were. This is something I am guilty of, not seeing the truth until it doesn't matter anymore and I can only learn from my error.

To my credit, I do try to trust my gut, and we all know that the honest gut is worth trusting.

I'm missing people. People who I've lost, people who I'll always have, people I never had to begin with.

I'm listening to new music. New music made with new people who I don't know as well. And I'm approaching it with apprehension, I expect to not be able to listen to myself. I'm scared of the story I'm telling right now. I think that I won't know the real story until a good two years have passed.

Strange, I like the sound of the song I'm singing. And I like the way we strangers make a story together. If I'm always singing a song to myself, and it's the true song of my life, even the lies are good lies. And it doesn't matter if others hear this song and it resonates or not. It's good to just sing.

And it's good to just be. To be simple and try to be true.