The meaning of music
Posted 02-11-2024 at 09:29 PM by Northsouth
"I can't stay on your life support, there's a shortage in the switch"
"I can't stay on your morphine because it's making me itch"
Lyrics -metaphorical. Good song.
It's been a whirlwind of problems here lately, it's kind of unbelievable. That's ok, I'm dealing with it as it comes. Thanks for reading, it's hard for me to remember now all the people that I've known here at C-D since 2006. But I appreciate every one of you "good guys", the rest....eh.
I'm not signing off or anything, I just don't have much time right now to post. So I will leave you with an excerpt from something I've been working on for several years.
"The only outlet she had was music. Even at that age, she related to it and enjoyed skipping around the coffee table, dancing to Peter and the Wolf. ***** laid on the couch with a splitting headache, sad and depressed. She climbed onto the couch with *****, lying in the opposite direction.
She knew there was something wrong with her Mother, but too young to understand.
She looked around the house, like she always did while she daydreamed, remembering every detail of it that she carried with her throughout life. There was an image of the front screen door burned into her memory, a swirly design with a little songbird.
That would be her last memory of that house. It seemed like a dream, like she had been outside of herself and had no memories until that moment. No early childhood memories, or they were suppressed, she wasn't sure. She was too afraid to find out."
"I can't stay on your morphine because it's making me itch"
Lyrics -metaphorical. Good song.
It's been a whirlwind of problems here lately, it's kind of unbelievable. That's ok, I'm dealing with it as it comes. Thanks for reading, it's hard for me to remember now all the people that I've known here at C-D since 2006. But I appreciate every one of you "good guys", the rest....eh.
I'm not signing off or anything, I just don't have much time right now to post. So I will leave you with an excerpt from something I've been working on for several years.
"The only outlet she had was music. Even at that age, she related to it and enjoyed skipping around the coffee table, dancing to Peter and the Wolf. ***** laid on the couch with a splitting headache, sad and depressed. She climbed onto the couch with *****, lying in the opposite direction.
She knew there was something wrong with her Mother, but too young to understand.
She looked around the house, like she always did while she daydreamed, remembering every detail of it that she carried with her throughout life. There was an image of the front screen door burned into her memory, a swirly design with a little songbird.
That would be her last memory of that house. It seemed like a dream, like she had been outside of herself and had no memories until that moment. No early childhood memories, or they were suppressed, she wasn't sure. She was too afraid to find out."
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