I don't know if this project ended up being what I thought it would from the start. I felt a real sense of relief in wrapping up yesterday's post. Deciding to re-live my entire cognizant life, one year at a time, was maybe not the most healthy thing to do. Every time I finished a year I would be lost in a fog of myself for hours trying to decide if I'd said everything, or if I'd said it right, or if I'd lived it right, or really all of those existential things that bubble up when you try and put something so subjective and fleeting in a box. I think I forced myself to remember some lessons that I'd learned and forgotten, but I got a little lost in the details here and there. What I wanted to do was to make a statement of how much music has meant and still means to me, and to explore how we can build our lives around it and use it at as a friend or a crutch or a drug or an extension of ourselves.
But for all of the things music can mean and be, it only becomes them in the telling, or through some other lens or filter, which is kind of a crock of bs in the end. In the present, when it is what it is before it becomes "what it was", it doesn't need explaining or a story or really anything but a pair of ears and a soul to absorb it.
Thanks for reading. Go put on a record or something.