It's so interesting. Simply everything. Everything is interesting. Everything has a story, everybody has a voice, and put two and two together and you essentially get uniqueness. It's really neat.
Allow to me to attempt to make sense: Somehow we all manage to associate every little thing in our lives with ourselves in one way or another. This is what I've come to realize leads us to imagination. I see water and I think of life. I consider myself lively and in that sense if ever I were to write, say, a story or a song or a poem and used water chances are high I would personify it with pieces of myself.
I've been studying lyrics lately and began to wonder just how much of somebody's personality you could pick out of a song. I know with the lyrics I write I usually end up pouring more of myself into the song than I mean. Almost to a point of exaggeration. And then I'll share the song with the band and try my best to hope nobody can see in between lines. We (we being the songwriters, poets, and speakers of the world...anyone not afraid to speak their mind) often are the victims of playing the role of the suspect. We try to say "Yes I am this," but don't really try to say it
. Rather we often may find it more intriguing to sort of tease it out of our audience. In this sense there can even be found the connection of one person with yourself. How do they translate you with it being you they're translating?
The one song that has baffled me for some days is Cream's White Room. Knowing their lyricist as I do I simply refuse to believe the song is honestly and simply about a train station. I can tell by the depth there is something beneath that surface but dammit I can't figure it out. It's near maddening.
Emotion, time, philosophy, religion, all such incredible drives and to the writer they're also purpose. In a world where life seems purposeless I suppose the writer has the upper hand. Whereas the common man or the politician can lead out their lives and die if there really is a undying soul perhaps we take with it our philosophies? And in that same thought maybe the writer has a chance at still carrying on life after death whether there is a heaven or not.
These are my thoughts and yes I have much too much time to think. Maybe someday, when we're all dead, I'll be able to carry them all alongside me. It's kind of pretty don't ya think?
-Xzyliac: Currently listening to White Room & Voltaire