Sunday, December 18, 2011

Interesting and un-exciting: Life.

Life is an interesting thing. I haven't worked out why yet, but thats what people keep telling me.
I am writing this in the corner of my parents garage. I am sitting on an old couch that was rejected by the family as acceptable living room furniture. The wall to my left is covered in crude shelves and they are filled with the cluttered treasures people hoard and disregard. Memories and potential. Some active, some passed. To my right is another piece of rejected furniture, a large table. Reliced by years of being used by a big family. It is covered in whatever music gear my brother and I could scavenge. Microphones, tamberines, shakers, an old stolen P.C screen, a stereo that belongs in our parents lounge and a collection of tea cups. My brother is sitting at this table writing a song about appreciation of life, a song about hope. My sisters are also occuping this room but they are remaining quiet as so not to put off any flows of creativity Tim may be having. And I have chosen this time to reignite this old blog.

Sometimes I feel the need to create, to write, to share. I don't know that I handle emotions very well. I often don't understand how I feel until I write something and then I suddenly understand. Sometimes I discover myself through song, sometimes through a piece of writing, like this one.
I still don't know why I am writing this. I guess I want to send something out into that cosmic void we call the internet. Blasting some random collection of words off into the internet, like an unguided ship into space. I don't what will happen, except I know nothing will happen. And for some reason that is exciting.
I like the idea of someone reading this and then, in some bizzare and semi-fictional way, us being connected by the piece of my soul, of me, that I have recklessly dumped into these paragraphs. I write without a filter, my subconscious mind thinks it, and then my hands type it. It is like I am telling myself a story and I am writing it down, so I do not forget. I wouldn't call this inspiration, that is different, this is mearly venting, letting all my thoughts out so I can sleep tonight. Thoughts about music, life, fun, bordem, fear, peace, love, there is so much to write about! So many things going on! Not one of them worthy of a film or a book, but not one of them worthy of forgetting or disregarding!

So I will aspire to write it all! All the elements of this apparently-interesting life we call our own, all written on a page on my bedroom floor or cast into this cosmic void. All beautiful, all boring, all life.

Waxing the lyrical once again,
Dan Brunskill

P.S At this stage I would normal go though my writing and see if there is anything worth publishing. Given the occasion of tonight I will not. I will not even read it through again tonight. I cannot really remember what I said. I'm not even doing spell check. This is as raw as it comes.
Look out for some more refined posts further down the line.

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