A sea of utter loneliness expands before me. All which lies ahead of me is covered with a cold, white blanket of uncertainty. Even these words fall into oblivion in no apparent order—crazy suicidal hooks of ink jumping from a cliff. My heart is a limp balloon hanging from a mess of cobweb strings in an empty chest. People around me mutter goodbye, as do objects and sunny mornings. That charred leaf falling from a maple tree is a reminder of the decaying beauty that hung on to its own charm for too long.
Author: Olavia Kite
You said you don’t believe I’m alone. Of course I’m not completely alone, you silly—but you clearly aren’t among those who keep me company.
I love it when I suddenly have the impulse of jumping out of my chair to grab the guitar and sing. Just like in the old times! I don’t know if this is caused by all the expectation, but music has a different flavor now. Maybe it’s music’s fault that I can’t concentrate anymore. I’m typing up some boring report about who knows what, and suddenly it’s Daryl Hall singing “Dreamtime”. Back to the 80’s, to my long, straight hair and miniskirts, posing for my aunt in my grandma’s then gigantic backyard. It hasn’t changed at all, but as I grew, it shrank.
Why do I keep talking about Daryl Hall? Maybe it’s because his song (this particular song) never changed in me the way Karate Kid or my grandma’s backyard did. I think I feel exactly the same sort of elation when I listen to it now than I did when I saw it featured in a Dtv Halloween special. I remember they took very onyrical segments from Disney movies, like Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony from Fantasia and Alice in Wonderland. In fact, I cannot really remember the latter movie save the scenes used for this music video, just as I can’t remember Snow White except for that scene in the forest with Pat Benatar’s “You Better Run.” Nobody can tell me there’s no Pat Benatar in Snow White. It’s all Dtv’s fault. Music’s fault, you see; my perspective’s so distorted now from all the songs in my head.
I spent the whole weekend listening to Sinéad O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares 2 U,” haunted by her voice like I never was before. It’s as if it were an entirely new song, even though they played it tirelessly (perhaps still do) in the adult contemporary radio station I used to listen to throughout my teenage years. It’s nice to discover new magic from old music. I think I did like O’Connor when the song came out in 1990, though. I remember getting a little angry at a magazine where I read her shaved head was ‘out’. Funny to be a kid at a time when Barry Manilow was a subject for gossip…
I know I should get back to work, but I’m going to make a quick stop by the guitar first. Most probably the music and fresh sunshine will get me back on track.
To hell with homework.