Tuesday, March 24, 2009

composer.

So none of this is coming as easy as I thought it would. I keeping strumming the wrong notes, singing in the wrong key, strumming the wrong rhythm...playing what's already been played. I'm singing what's already been said, simply trying to express how I feel. When it all comes together, it's the tune of my everyday life. The same beat in my footsteps, the same harmonies in my frequent interactions with people, the same catchy melodies you fight so hard not to keep stuck in your head...I keep writing songs with the same dissonance as with my day to day decision making. Try not to struggle with making sure people know what you're really trying to say. Soon enough, I will shatter this acoustic, splinter my hand to hell...and ultimately pay the mother fucker back for the years of blisters, the perpetual letdowns, and god awful messages the instrument has given off. In all actuality, I'm pissed at myself for the way the songs are coming out.

The music we make is only as great as the maker of said music can be.
The life we live is only as great as the person in control of said life.
I can't make pretty music.
I can't live a happy life.

No comments:

Post a Comment