All Music is Good

Many sins have been committed. Many lives taken. Many hearts broken. Many dreams shattered. Many songs sung…

Remember talking throughout the night…just sweet nothings trying to make each other feel good about ourselves? Sharing moments at night was infinitely more potent for intimacy than any other time of the day, even on the phone ;-) Half a million dilemmas for half a dozen years. But that too was fun wasn’t it?

Remember your first record, your baby? Remember how passionately, how painstakingly it was put together? Bit-by-bit, note-by-note, track-by-track. I know you’re waiting…you’re waiting…you’re waiting…and I just watched the lines of concentration on the forehead shielding the genius behind, where all the music came from. You in a maroon sweatshirt, lovingly entwined with your guitar. You with your headphones, brows knit together in deep meditation to take the music apart, so you could rebuild it. You upset about second year results, and your piano came to the rescue, not me. Did you let me? Did we make music together, or was it just you?

This was no conventional love story. Not even one predictable scene of traditional lovers. No kissing in the rain. No walks through the park. No holding hands and walking into the sunset. But it WAS something.

What is it with people? When one is sad, why does he try to remember the good times to feel ok? What is wrong with embracing pain? Just letting it seep through your system…cruising through your veins…slowly unfurling its tentacles to clutch your heart…tightening its grip…grinding it to dust…

…All because the music upset me. I won’t be waiting…