Muse-ou

I have to talk a bit about my greatest Love. And this would have to be music. Even though I cannot play a musical instrument, I know that in my soul I am a musician. There is nothing else that gives me more joy than creating and performing music. When I sing I struggle to make eye contact because I feel that the great wooden doors of my being are flung open and I am completely exposed to the naked quick. I fear that I will be seen for all that I am and that this may not be enough. Yet I am slowly learning to be seen, as I sing. I feel guilty about how much I enjoy any work relating to music because to be paid to make it seems so drastically to my advantage. Even if I never earn a cent from music I will never stop making it. But I pray that that does not end up being the case.
“Singing takes the pain away. Singing helps you face another day.” These are the lyrics of my latest song entitled Lovely Old Lady. It speaks of how I truly feel about singing. When my heart has been broken and flinching in a corner like a trampled cockroach, music was the bostik that I used to put it back together. I have sung all my life. In the shower, on the loo (Yes Tipsy Tart I know you do too! ;)
When in the studio working on a song I forget about everything and just zone in on the layers of sound being weaved together. (Yes Jacob, even Gaydar!) Time speeds up and all of a sudden I’ve been sitting there for six hours without thinking about myself or analysing my existence. I have been purely consumed with the creation of a something that provokes feeling. I am not able to do this alone (Thanks Zayne!) but it feels like the truest purpose I have ever served. I love acting and writing but creating a song and then performing it, make them both pale in comparison. If God spoke I think He/She would sing.
I hope to create many songs and share them with the world. Songs that tell stories and songs that bring relief. I want people to feel my songs stir something inside them. I want my lyrics to tug at their hearts and quieten their minds. I also want to make songs that make people smile and laugh at themselves. If I was trapped on a deserted island all alone it would be the songs in my head that would keep me company and prevent me from losing my mind, as they do now.
Love and Songs are so intricately linked together and even though I am still perplexed as to what Love really is I know in my gut that it has a lot to do with music.
“It’s like losing control; it’s like being a part of a whole. It’s like losing your mind, trusting your soul, just letting go... For better or worse how I love music.” – Lebo Mathosa R.I.P.

Amy and Apricots

I love soft eating apricots. You know, the ones you get from Woolies? They are great and they have such a wonderful orange colour. Patrick Holford (the right eating guru of my universe) says they are a great source of iron as well as being rich in antioxidants. The only problem is that they are preserved with Sulphur dioxide and this closes my chest and gives me heart burn. But still I eat them. Sometimes I know I really shouldn’t do something but I do it anyway. Why is that? Another apricotlike or apricotesque problem I seem to be having is getting involved with men that keep me at arm’s length. Come on, we’ve all been there. You wait all day for your phone to ring or vibrate with a SMS. You keep checking to see that it hasn’t beeped in case you may not have heard it (despite your newly developed sonic hearing.) It’s pathetic, you know this, but you do it anyway. You meet a friend for tea but, you only half listen to anything they say because you’re thinking about him. Eventually your phone does ring your heart races your eyes ignite and it’s the bank trying to get you to take out a life policy that will ensure everyone in your family gets loaded but on condition that you die.
Amy Winehouse has a song on her Back to Black album called ‘Love is a losing hand.’ It seems so morbid but I can’t stop singing it. The only lyrics I know are, “...though you’re a gambling man, Love is a losing hand.” And this I repeat over and over as I fix my dinner or remove socks from the dryer. Not exactly the best mantra to adopt if I want a winning mutually beneficial intimate relationship. Maybe I should start singing Finally by Cece Peniston it goes: “Finally it’s happened to me right in front of my face and I just can’t describe it.” Or something more upbeat like “I’m walking on sunshine.”
Well, it is Love, or the lack thereof that inspires me to write and express my feelings so I guess I owe it to my current single circumstance that I can entertain you the reader (or person in the audience.) I wonder if you would enjoy my work as much or even more if I ever find it. I would like to hope that you would. Maybe Amy is wrong and Love is on the cards for me and maybe, just maybe, I’ve been dealt a royal flush.