Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

When I was little, I remember playing a game on the computer that featured numerous little green creatures with blue tufts of hair. At least, I think that’s what they looked like.  Maybe I’m remembering these things called Lemmings, in which case I might have to be diagnosed as color dyslexic.   Each one followed the one in front of him around these obstacle course rooms; they ran into one another frequently. It makes me chuckle to remember the concepts of the game. 

At some point I borrowed this computer-derived image and supplanted it into the organizational model of the inner workings of my brain. I have since imagined these little creatures milling about in my mind, organizing files and folders and bits of information as needed. My dear friend, Charissa, is one of these little green creatures for the purposes of my mental movie and media interaction.

She makes sure there’s a must-see movie next in my que. She burns me data cd’s with hundreds of new albums and artists on them, then she has to teach me how to open a data cd and she waits patiently while I trudge song by song through the material. By the time I fall in love with the fall-in-lovable jams, they’re already overplayed on the radio and Charissa tells me so. But she says it’s alright. So, it’s alright.

It’s funny the way music moves me; moves us; moves people to feel. And, so deeply. A song becomes all of a sudden alive as the lyrics take on personal meaning and the melody swells into an anthem of sorts. When a jam becomes an anthem instead of just a tune and a line or two, that’s when I really turn that volume dial up and start to crank it out in the car with the windows any which way.

See, it might even be the wrong tone for what I mean; too brazen or sarcastic when I mean to end with a question mark or my hand covering yours. The words might not be exactly our situation in this way or that, but I fudge those moments over and still pretend she’s me, now. This is my song now, these are our memories, and our problems, and this is me–taking a stand. Windows up or windows down, I’m singing my little tenor heart out with conviction and coffee on my eleven o’clock ride home this evening. I’m telling telling him or her or them how it’s gonna be. Because this, this is about me.  This can be my anthem.

King of Anything

Keep drinking coffee, stare my down across the table while I look outside.

So many things I’d say if only I were able, but I just keep quiet and count the cars that pass by.

You’ve got opinions man.  We’re all entitled, too.  But, I never ask.

So let me thank you for your time and try not to waste any more of mine.  Get out of here fast.

I’d had to break it to you, babe.  But I’m not drowning.  There’s no one here to save.

Who cares if you disagree?  You are not me.  Who made you king of anything?

So don’t you dare tell me who to be.  Who died and made you king of anything?

You sound so innocent, all full of good intent.  Swear you know best.

But you expect me to jump up on board with you and ride off into your delusional sunset.

I’m not the one who’s lost, with no directional.  But you’ll never see.

You’re so busy making maps with my name on them in all CAPS; you’ve got the talking down, just not the listening.

And who cares if you disagree?  You are not me.  Who made you king of anything?

So don’t you dare tell me who to be.  Who died and made you king of anything?

All my life I’ve tried to make everybody happy while I just hurt and hide

waiting for someone to tell me it’s my turn to decide.

Advertisements