You have the power to look and perceive 24/7 and yet I’m not able to describe the room I was suddenly confined in on a sunny Thursday afternoon. It had white walls and black chairs, and a plethora of bruised fingers and vocal cords. Millions of unintelligible voices, but his eyes are straight upon me. There is a reason why I’m sitting in the last row today. People laughing around, moving their bodies; how in the deepest pits of hell do they do that?
I lose my mind’s eye when they are around. My eyes turn into suns and burn the whole room down. They dry out and enlarge, hence the term crazy eyes. Until I finally burst into tears, which happened today.
This is all nothing but a goddamn joke. The backing vocals moving their bodies mindlessly, pointlessly, from one side to another, yet directionlessly. The singer is singing and singing and singing, and just that, no more than that. What do people hear when they stare? What are they thinking? Some are nodding their heads – as one is conditioned to do – some are on their phones, some are writing the next Great non-American Novel (yeah, you wish).
The energy the melody the movement the white walls the black chairs the shades of colours of people
I AM NOT AN ENTERTAINER.
I never will be.
When I’m on stage, my feet get burned to the ground, every atom of the joke my body consists of is being torn apart, and I’m trying my best to keep it together. I’m exuding imaginary sweat and stark defiance. What does life even mean when you’re wearing an invisibility cloak that doesn’t actually make you invisible, but stifles your freedom? And you can’t take it off, because it’s the only piece of clothing keeping you warm.
This whole thing doesn’t make any sense. I don’t do nonsense, it wastes my time. People love it, because the more mindlessly we pass our time the less it matters, and the less it matters the less we matter, and the less we matter the more we matter collectively. And we’re afraid to be alone. I don’t know if I’m making any sense at the moment either. All I know is that my day did not.
What does it have to do with music, you ask? Well, have you ever been faced with crippling paralysis whilst in heaven? Is there even space for crippling paralysis in heaven? Now, should I remain paralysed, or should I fade away? Yeah. Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with music. Maybe music isn’t my heaven, only a haven. All I want to say is, please, don’t do things mindlessly. Don’t just “entertain.” And don’t let those who do paralyse you.
Artist for featured image: Lorna Bush