How many memories do you keep in a jar on that shelf? Here’s one from my 20s, driving across a bridge at night with the stereo up loud. Were we out of our minds high on the energy of our time, with youth slathered across our chests, burning all night? Were we on our way to a party, or a bar with girls we wanted to chase? And when the drums came in, how they moved through us like a dark wind to carry our souls away. And how alive it felt, to leave our bodies behind. How I’ll play that song still, in our suburban house when it’s warm enough I can write with my shirt off, to draw out that dark wind. How gladly I’d give my soul away for it. I have a jar full of tokens for all the times I did.
Share this:
Categories: identity, inspiration, prose, writing
Bill Pearse 
I don’t have any youthful memories like this that involve sobriety. Big regret.
LikeLike
Tell me about it Jeff, it’s a struggle.
LikeLiked by 1 person
memories are made more potent with time
LikeLiked by 1 person
Is that the song? Can? I’m ignorant. Please remember who you’re dealing with.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s OK. Can is the name of the band. German prog-Rock with Japanese singer, Damo Suzuki.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Was trying to guess which ‘song’ it might have been. After Michael Mooney, with Damo singing… something from Ege Bamyasi perhaps?
I envy you the company; almost all my musical moments have been solitary. Cheers Loren, cheers Bill.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ha, that’s so sweet Bruce. “Oh Yeah,” though Ege Bamyasi, a good guess! Figures you would be the guy to lean on this, thank you for that. One day, we’ll have a spin and a go at it.
LikeLiked by 1 person