My typical response to music is largely based upon my initial reaction to the song or artist when I very first heard them play, which historically has lead me to act as a mirror to the stimulant and internally, then ultimately externally, reflect the mood or overriding thematic grandeur of the tune itself while mixing in a healthy dose of whatever emotion I was feeling upon my first encounter; however, as of late I find myself unshaken and immune to this manner of return and I am finally able to appreciate a world of music I had once forsaken only due to my emotional feedback being far too unpredictable to allow myself the path of discovery in an area wrought with unfamiliarity and potentially negative response, thus not only limiting myself into viewing my library as a battlefield rather than a source of inspiration, joy, and wonder, but effectively rendering myself a slave to my responsive selection of music.
That has all come crashing down to the earth.
Music has lost its persuasion over my internal discourse, but retained the excitement and intoxication.
My life is blessed beyond measure and though the tapestry of its soundtrack may be warped with songs of woe, heartbreak, death, and lonely nights with nothing but a six-sting and a bottle, it is always weft with songs of hope, peace, adventure, happiness, and love.
Never mistake my infatuation with a depressing lap steel driven ballad with the disposition of my mental affairs.
I am in love with my life.
Here’s an old scanned doodle of mine.
They call it “The Swanson”.
I hope it’s not narcissistic to reblog my own submission, but sweet blogs posting my silly doodles is awesome.