We Tripped On The Urge To Feel Alive

I think about those days, and I think about a motto etched onto the sleeve of one of those Pavement singles: I AM MADE OF BLUE SKY AND HARD ROCK AND I WILL LIVE THIS WAY FOREVER.
– Rob Sheffield, Love is a Mix Tape

One of those ridiculously honest personal accounts that I read 3+ years ago.  Run to the library and pick it up. I think half the book was about Pavement. Amazing band. My 16 year old self would have died without them. Anyway, I’ve never encountered a sentence that described my soul so freaking well. And of course it’s in the sleeve of a Pavement single. How could a sentence of that magnitude be anywhere else?

Somehow, I got away from that for awhile. But I’m back. My old self/soul are being ripped from the depths and they’re flowing into the world at an outrageous pace. I’m healing and moving on so much faster than I ever thought possible. It feels crazy. I feel weird. It’s like the Big Bang. Even my bones feel alive. It’s psychological AND somatic, I swear.

I’m having a Henry Miller-esque spiritual awakening.

The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.
– Henry Miller, Tropic of Capricorn

The weather was incredible. I painted. I got stuff done. I read on the porch swing. I went to Portuguese class. I started the process of becoming an ACLU volunteer. I listened to the Felice Brothers. Their self-titled album will kill you. It will make you too happy to live.

Please don’t you ever die
you ever die
you ever die
You moved me all of my life
all of my life
all of my life
Hum our radio songs
radio song
radio song
after every radio’s gone
radio’s gone
radio’s gone

One of the best choruses of all time.

And it makes me think of this quote (also from Love is a Mix Tape)…

…and sometimes I think, man, all the people I get to hear this song with, we’re going to miss each other when we die. When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other.

That is absolutely true. Your soul turns into songs.

Your body breaks down to chemical elements though. Your atoms get taken up into something else and you spread out forever and ever through organisms and geology and time. Science is soothing. I like knowing that there’s nothing more than just the physical circle of life. And we used to be stars. I hope you know that. All of our atoms were formed inside stars. I like knowing that I’m a tremendously small little fraction of recycled star matter.

Anyway, that quote up there makes me think of this quote down here. Always. And it’s pertinent to yesterday’s post also.

I thought to myself that in the palm of my hand, there was this one tape that had all of these memories and feelings and great joy and sadness.  Right there in the palm of my hand.  And I thought about how many people have loved those songs.  And how many people got through a lot of bad times because of those songs.  And how many people enjoyed good times with those songs.  And how much those songs really mean.
– The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky

Not only are songs the primary medium for the safe keeping of souls, but they hang on to memories, feelings, joy, and sadness. Their like the Bank of Transcendence. Easier to deposit than withdraw though. Which is the opposite of a real bank.

And then that quote up there makes me think of this one down here. Which is also relevant to that post from two days ago.

“Yes,” Judith said. “Or destroy it. As you like. Read it if you like or don’t read it if you like. Because you make so little impression, you see. You get born and you try this and you don’t know why only you keep on trying it and you are born at the same time with a lot of other people, all mixed up with them, like trying to, having to, move your arms and legs with strings only the same strings are hitched to all the other arms and legs and the others all trying and they don’t know why either except that the strings are all in one another’s way like five or six people all trying to make a rug on the same loom only each one wants to weave his own pattern into the rug; and it cant matter, you know that, or the Ones that set up the loom would have arranged things a little better, and yet it must matter because you keep on trying or having to keep on trying and then all of a sudden it’s all over and all you have left is a block of stone with scratches on it provided there was someone to remember to have the marble scratched and set up or had time to, and it rains on it and the sun shines on it and after a while they don’t even remember the name and what the scratches were trying to tell, and it doesn’t matter. And so maybe if you could go to someone, the stranger the better, and give them something–a scrap of paper–something, anything, it not to mean anything in itself and them not even to read it or keep it, not even bother to throw it away or destroy it, at least it would be something just because it would have happened, be remembered even if only from passing from one hand to another, one mind to another, and it would be at least a scratch, something, something that might make a mark on something that was once for the reason that it can die someday, while the block of stone can’t be is because it never can become was because it cant ever die or perish…”
– William Faulkner, Absalom! Absalom!

Crap, I think I got off topic again. A one second snapshot of my brain would contain approximately one million different things. The original point of this whole thing is that it feels good to be alive. In every way. Not get sidetracked with depressing Faulkner stuff.

Today felt like the first day of my life. It’s weird when you start to grasp concrete parts of yourself. Like you really understand some things about yourself and who you need to be and what you need to be doing.

I guess I just assumed that everyone feels lost their whole lives. People really do grow up and grow into themselves. I wonder what it’s like to be 90. I kind of can’t wait to find out. Not that I want to rush to the end. But it will be awesome to look back at the ghosts/echoes of my previous selves. Maybe I’ll change a lot. I’m not sure.

What I know for certain is that I AM MADE OF BLUE SKY AND HARD ROCK AND I WILL LIVE THIS WAY FOREVER and that all the different shades of who I’ve been will share at least that one thing in common.


One response to “We Tripped On The Urge To Feel Alive

  1. Pingback: We Move In Infinite Space | In Between A Rock And The Back Wall

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