The past couple of weeks really have been crazy. What’s really crazy is that I have been able to, since they have happened, step outside of myself and see the events of the past two weeks detached from my self and have come to realize that there is nothing in the events themselves that was significant.
Which is to say that, for all intents and purposes, ALL of my life could be that crazily awesome if I would just let go sometimes and live the fucking thing, ya know?
Aside from the wicked weekend of epiphanies set to music (detailed in an earlier post)…I actually saw some great bands last weekend (or was it the weekend before? Yeah, the weekend before Memorial Day weekend).
Here’s the list:
- Friday (for the low, low price of a groupon):
- Joan Jett and the Blackhearts
- The Who
- Saturday (for the kindness of strangers):
- Haelstorm (partial)
- Anthrax (partial)
- Nick (somebody…was doing a Dimebag Darrel tribute)
- Balsac (the Jaws of Death from GWAR)
- Rival Sons
- Motionless in White
- Volbeat
- Tech N9ne
- Rise Against
- and Linkin Park
It was a pretty epic weekend of music. And that was only doing one day of Rock on the Range. Next year, I’m definitely doing all three days.
So…yeah…there was the music aspect the past couple of days. And then this past weekend there was the angle of meeting a friend of my friends who is a real honest to gosh book writing author. And of course finding out that my neighbor and a couple other friends are actually published, too. f
Surrounded by music and by supportive people who write.
Seriously?
Those things are enough to push the constant pain far from the surface of continual cognition. And while I am having surgery for my neck in a few weeks, for the weeks leading up to the surgery, it will be pain. As it has been. On a never-ending (it seems) cycle.
And that’s kind of funny to me, actually. When I’m driving. When I’m reading. When I’m at work…I get little nudges to remind me that, “Oh…hey…yeah…my neck is still fucked up.” When I’m writing…when I’m experiencing live music…when I’m playing music; the pain is no where in my field of vision.
The mind is a pretty amazing thing. I think it has to do with not being tied to this plane when I’m doing those things. Those things are purely in the moment. There is no time. And sometimes, there is no space. I don’t know how to really explain it other than, at those times, I feel as though it’s my soul experiencing those things.
What? The randomness is confusing? Not sure why…I pretty much said as much in the title of the post.
I feel now as though I’m in that ‘in between’ realm where you are just tired enough that if you closed your eyes, you would drift to sleep. Or that you just woke up from a dream that you can recall the faintest wisps of in the pre-dawn light.
Only I don’t necessarily mean that I’m sleepy per se. I just mean that my life feels like that. Like I either need to go back to sleep and dream. Or fully wake up and remember the dream as it was, but go on living the life I was meant to live. And that ‘ride’…the ‘game’ of life that almost all my friends think is real, is but a dream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily.
Life is but a dream.
-AT
Todd Skaggs Writes 