Got a song in my head. How to Destroy Angels, The Space in Between. If nothing else, the video is completely creepy and perfect. The song goes gracefully along with my somber mood today. Maybe it is just winter, but I feel slow, quiet and brooding today. Usually when I am in this kind of mood, writing is very easy for me. I have always found it easier to write when I was on the slower end of the emotional scale. Extremes of either end were always too complex feelings to relate. Maybe complex is the wrong word as being angry or happy are pretty easy emotions to convey. Writing about them always seems overdone and if anything, I hate overdone writing.
I started off the day listening to some Front 242 but that was a poor choice (I know! When is that every the case?) as it wanted too much from me. Instead I moved over to The Walkmen, who wanted me to enjoy some quirky rhythms and syncopated vocals. I thought that was going to work but instead it left me edgy and that is not a place you want to spend too much time. Sun Kil Moon fit the bill perfectly. Slowed everything else down to the speed I was hovering at and allowed me to get going for the day.
And all of this has everything to do with writing. While music is something I enjoy, it sometimes is the antithesis of writing for me. It gets in the way. It drives me places that I don’t always have control over, and when I am writing, perhaps to my detriment, I need control. I used to write in a very free flowing kind of way, letting whatever words came to my head fall out onto the page. I never edited while I was writing, never worried if I was coming across didactic or childish. In fact, until I was in my middle 20’s, I rarely reworked any piece of writing, and it showed. As I began to learn how to edit, how to censor myself and direct my writing, I still found it very easy to throw up on the page, unfiltered and raw, then channel and change after the piece felt done.
Recently, I find myself editing as I write, and while that can be very helpful it also can completely stop me in my tracks. Now, sentences that I used to let be, I dissect. On the plus side, I end up with a great many three line pieces that are there if I ever get the itch again. However, I also end up not finishing anything, or even writing a paragraph as I get easily frustrated by my inability to say much of anything. It all sounds trite, and again, that is something I cannot abide.
So I listen to music for hours, staring at the page, hating the sentences, hating that I can’t write, hating that I want to write, hating that I want anyone to read it, for them to care at all, which I really do want. Not to fill up my ego, but because I feel like I have something to share and I love that feeling when someone gets it, regardless of what that “it” is for them. It is very similar to sharing a new musical love, a band or a song, and having someone else find value in it.
When I share a piece of writing, I actually feel like I give it up to a larger universe and that it really is no longer mine. I have gone back and read older pieces and not recognized them as mine. Is that odd? Am I making any sense?
Maybe I should just put on some KMFDM and close my eyes…
What say you, Deep Dark Void?