Nostalgia

Quick question:

If sometimes you write a song and realize it is "pretty okay" but you know from experience that a lot of people will absolutely love it except the people like you who will agree it is "pretty okay" so you don't record or release it, you just shelve it, then the years go by and you get older and one day you pick that song off the shelf and start strumming the chords and you realize that nostalgia has added several-years-worth of value to it and it transports you back to who you were when you wrote it and a lump forms in your throat and you can barely sing it and your immediate thought is, "Damn, this is good." Is it?

iPhone Notes

Last night I rolled over in bed and typed this into my phone. It's not a song, and I'm not astute enough to qualify it as poetry... I guess it could be called creative journalling. I think I might start posting some of these "stream of thought" type notes:


I thought I knew I what to do, but I don't. Fleeting moments of peace are now endangered in the thick cloud that sits like a sponge on my head, heavy and wet, soaking up focus and clarity. I thought I knew what to do, but I don't. I crane my consciousness to see what lies beyond, but it's muffled and dark. I can only see my feet, two ragged stubs jutting out below my kneecaps. I'm out of options. I put one in front of the other and pray there is no cliff.