I enjoy writing very much. Happiness sweeps over me when I am able to have ideas flow from my head onto a sheet of paper (for that's how I prefer to write, pen it then type it later on). English class was always relatively easy, but that's because I kept myself in the lower level classes. I know I could have sat in Advanced English or College Prep English, but I didn't want to. In fact, my teacher, Mr. McGladery, always told me that I should be in the advanced class. At that time I thought he was full of shit and I was definitely full of laziness. But these days, after realizing the thrill of coming up with an amazing story or being able to give details of an insect that makes the reader want to flick it off the page...
I AM A WRITER.
And it feels damn good to say that. Not, "I enjoy writing", or, "I am an aspiring writer", but...
I AM A WRITER.
I am going to take my pen and write the shit out of some paper damnit.
That feels kinda good.
So I was on my way to work yesterday morning, cruising up Westlake Avenue, past the marinas and up and around the small bend to reach the light located at the Fremont Bridge. Now, mind you, I was born in the wrong generation. I think that the optimum year that I should have been conceived is 1958. Ya ya ya, I know. Many people have told me that I am full of shit and I have no idea how good I have it nowadays, blah blah blah. But it isn't about how good I have it or how shitty the world is today. I definitely agree, the world today is in a slightly better position than it was in the 50s, 60s and 70s. But like I said, it isn't the world, it's the music man. In my eye, those three decades brought the greatest artists that have ever lived (mostly the 60s and 70s). Creedence Clearwater, Jimi Hendrix, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Neil Young, The Beatles, Jethro Tull, David Bowie, Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, Molly Hatchet, Foghat, Styx... do I need to go on?
"Now I am just a sheep being shepherd by the man." -Myself, on a phone call with my dad. You see! I channel the hippies all the time! An expanded consciousness man.
I digress. My point being, as I am driving to work and reaching the Fremont Bridge traffic light, there to my right is a homeless man that looks like he just got back from Vietnam, bandanna around his head holding back his long, dirty, dishwater, blonde hair out of his eyes, an army bag undoubtedly with all of his things, not counting what he stores near the troll under the bridge, and sometimes he even has a walkman, begging for money with a good set of tunes lodged in his ears. No walkman this morning thoguh. This is normal, the poor bastard sitting at this light, with a sign that reads, "Anything helps." But this time is different, for this morning I decided to turn the volume up on an album that I was playing, which I don't normally like to do, preferring a quiet, NPR car ride. Not today. I was playing Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon, one of my favorite albums of all time, cranked up to 41, windows down, not realizing what song was playing as I stopped at the light and waited next to the hippy from Vietnam. Money.
But on a music sidenote, you should all check out Pickwick, a local Seattle band. They only have an EP out right now but they put out some amazing music and I hope they keep on keepin' on.
Thanks for reading!