Under present influence of Nick Drake and late night flourishes in the office, I am spurred to the keyboard, dusting off some thoughts to keep current. So many days have passed since I have visited myself here, even though the thoughts are always swirling. From one day to the next, in this atmospheric mood always changing, who knows what happens from here. Does clarity come after thinking for so long that it comes around the bend? Who knows? The Riverman perhaps, as Nick Drake would sing.
The present influence reminds me of any series of modern troubadours that somehow carry the banner in a modern world of the rambling musical storyteller - Bob Dylan, on to Robbie Robertson and Paul Weller and the same Nick Drake, many others in between that slip my mind in the moment. It is part of the tradition that wandering unleashes us into ourselves, as we let those slippery moments become the experience, like comfort, like rain. It just happens so, naturally.
Back to me. Of thoughts of love and life, things to do, people to be, places to go, all the same and different imperceptibly. Poetic and common, nothing much beyond tomorrow, which is nothing better than today. We'll remember it better than it was, expect it better than it should be, and sub-consciously make ourselves believe it will always be the same. Sad it comes, atmospheric as this Nick Drake song, that we shall find ourselves transported to a different place, so much closer to the same self we have always carried unbeknownst. Maybe we didn't realize it at the time, but the words will drone on and on anon. "If he tells me all he knows...about the way his river flows...I don't suppose...it's meant for me...oh, how they come and go..." Work continues until it is complete.
-Listening to Nick Drake's "Riverman" while pausing on a Monday night, 10:30pm, from office work
The present influence reminds me of any series of modern troubadours that somehow carry the banner in a modern world of the rambling musical storyteller - Bob Dylan, on to Robbie Robertson and Paul Weller and the same Nick Drake, many others in between that slip my mind in the moment. It is part of the tradition that wandering unleashes us into ourselves, as we let those slippery moments become the experience, like comfort, like rain. It just happens so, naturally.
Back to me. Of thoughts of love and life, things to do, people to be, places to go, all the same and different imperceptibly. Poetic and common, nothing much beyond tomorrow, which is nothing better than today. We'll remember it better than it was, expect it better than it should be, and sub-consciously make ourselves believe it will always be the same. Sad it comes, atmospheric as this Nick Drake song, that we shall find ourselves transported to a different place, so much closer to the same self we have always carried unbeknownst. Maybe we didn't realize it at the time, but the words will drone on and on anon. "If he tells me all he knows...about the way his river flows...I don't suppose...it's meant for me...oh, how they come and go..." Work continues until it is complete.
-Listening to Nick Drake's "Riverman" while pausing on a Monday night, 10:30pm, from office work
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