Celeb passings rarely get to me, but I’m definitely Scatterbrained with this one.
RIP to JB, one of the most unique, dynamic, and expressive to ever do it. A bigger influence on me than my playing could ever really indicate.
As a tribute, here’s a redesign of his 1975 album Blow By Blow, a particular favorite of mine, using some new layout design ideas I’ve been playing around with.
It was never you.
The problem was never you.
It never could’ve been you.
With you
I felt limited.
With you
I couldn’t trust myself.
With you
I couldn’t
let myself
be myself.
With you
I trapped myself.
I held myself hostage.
I quit embracing change,
which is to say
I quit embracing growth.
I did this
often saying—
often believing—
it had to do with YOU.
But it had
nothing
to do with you.
It’s so obvious now.
I held myself back, and
I blamed you.
Maybe not directly,
but in my actions
(or lack thereof),
I blamed you.
Sorry it took so long
and caused us,
caused you,
caused me,
so much pain.
I hope you can forgive me.
I hope I can forgive me.
I never stopped loving you,
or at least
my desire to love you
never ceased.
Or maybe it’s
the other way around.
At times I felt
hopelessly helpless,
(or was it helplessly hopeless?)
trying to figure out
how to love you more,
how to prove to you
that I love you,
which is to say,
how to trust you
to trust me
to love you.
I was desperate
for answers,
and that desperation
became its own challenge
to overcome.
That desperation got in my way.
I kept letting myself
get away with
getting in the way
of myself
I was desperate for answers,
yet never looked within.
Answers are odd.
I’m not sure
how helpful
they really are
anyway.
When I couldn’t
find answers for
how to continue
loving you,
I let myself
begin to doubt
my ability
to love you.
And then I slipped
even deeper
into doubt, about
whether or not
it was ever
possible for
the two of us
particularly
to love each other
healthily.
In the absence of answers,
and a blindness to myself,
I kept asking more questions,
misguided as they may have been.
My problem was
mistakenly believing
that my inquisition
would answer the real questions:
WHO AM I?
HOW AM I NOT LOVING MYSELF?
I hope you can understand
why I had to escape
the construct I was trapping myself within.
To recenter myself and
start seeking in earnest
to rediscover my fundamental self.
I deeply hope you understand.
If not,
that’s okay, too.
I can’t let that
keep holding me
back.
Our time here is finite...
...my love for you is infinite...
...it will never end,
regardless of
whether or not
you get that.
I get that now
because I’m beginning
to understand
myself.
I’m beginning
to understand that
it’s a process, that
it takes
time.
But—no,
AND—I’m
determined
to find
myself
in all of this.
•••••••
I first felt
I had failed
long before
we faded
out.
I felt
I’d failed
before
we faded
back in.
I felt
I’d failed
before
we first
failed
for real.
I felt
I’d failed
at the fore,
where we
first faced,
face first.
I felt
I’d failed
even before
the fore,
before
we first
faded in.
For years,
I’d felt
I’d failed
without facing
the fact that
I failed
to force
myself
to face
the facts
of my fears.
The facts,
which,
if fully faced,
fully inform
one fully
to transform
from fear
to freedom,
from here...
forth.
•••••••
2022.12.27
13:15-13:34
(31.9595112, -81.0506413)
///lemons.once.river
•••••••
Endless waves
endlessly waving,
"Hello...
Goodbye..."
as they live
and they die
infinite lives
in front of, and,
often, behind
our very own eyes
or wherever lies
that thing we call mind
that is endlessly
(and needlessly)
embattled with
and ensnared by
that thing we call mine,
my very own “I”
that is endlessly
(and needlessly)
embattled with
and ensnared by
that thing I call “not me.”
And so on.
This morning,
I called Mars
Murphy
multiple times
before making note
of my mistake,
which made me
mull over
just how much
you’ve managed
to monopolize
my mind,
and how much
I don’t mind
how much
you already mean
to me,
mere weeks
after first meeting.
Make no mistake,
we’ll make mistakes
in mindless moments and
most likely some
emotional mismanaging,
But I know we’ll keep moving,
mindfully motivated
to maintain
our momentum,
our meaning,
our mattering,
our perpetual motion,
maybe
marching
in step,
maybe
momentarily
out.
No matter
how maddening
this may be,
I aim to
maintain
the motivation
to remain
enamored with and
amazed by the
manner in which
all the seemingly
meaningless moves
we’ve made
managed
to make
our meeting
so meaningful;
the motivation
to remember that
our momentums
moved us toward
our momentous meeting,
which made a
monumental mark
on me,
moving me
to make sure
my motivations
remain unmarred
to make it
more possible
to move forward
aimed at
making more
and more
memories,
making more
and more
meaning,
making amends
amidst mistakes,
meaning more
and more,
making more
and more
matter
with less
and less,
more or less,
until we meet
our mortal fates
and merge with
whatever made us
matter
in the first place.
•••••••
