the hippies played an eerie rendition of "brain damage" last night. all these things i have in me, portable art, forever changed by it. this is my jewelry; what i decorate myself with.
in order for me to hear them, they had to first be embraced by the masses who could not hear them. but oh, how they thought they did. but i would never have heard them otherwise. i don't know how many really did hear, i know i am not the only one, but i know it is a small number. i have often wondered how they managed to be embraced as they were, what they had that the average imbecile responded to. i don't think i have that thing. so no one will ever hear me. but that is beside the point, and a small lament. though i used to think it would save me, to be heard. i now just think it would be lovely if it could get through to those who could hear, and it may, someday. my words may stay lost forever in this sea of mediocrity, but they will stay, so there is the chance.
i am not finding the words to describe the lunatic to you as i had intended. the way that song entwined around the growing madness in my head and caressed it, so that i was not so alone. i still wish i could speak in music. another frustration, but i will keep trying with what i have, and one day the words will come together, and i hope, build something lovely as well as tinged with sadness and regret.
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