My band Train Out of Body played a show last night, and I'd like to thank both of you that showed up. You know who you are.
The thing about playing music that fascinates me and keeps me coming back again and again is that it really is all about yourself when you are doing it. I know you are supposed to say that the joy is in sharing it, but for me it is such a powerful thrill that, when I'm caught up in it, the idea that someone is watching only enhances the experience -- it doesn't justify it. What I mean is that it's always good, always incredible and transcendent, and having anybody witness what happens is just icing on the cake. Of course, that isn't the sort of attitude that endears you to club booking agents and builds you a ravenous following, and that is probably why my band doesn't get too many gigs. Anyway, that's the reason why I named the band Train Out of Body -- it's that soothing but still brooding acceptance of letting go and rushing forward to something greater, that is, the nothingness that is everything out there. When I play music it always takes me to that place where part of me longs to leave the confines of the body and to just soar out into the ether.
By the way, look at what I just found about out of body experiences!
I think it ties in with these dreams I've been having of late, vivid but dark dreams about flying through the space that surrounds the Earth as if I were roaring down a freeway in a ghost car, passing through trees and mountains and buildings without a thought. And then I wake up, and all I can remember is the rush of speed and the thrill of the abandon. I don't know what any of it means, but I can't help but relate it to my music.
Once again I'm the last person left in the building. It's weirdly chilly, overcast and quiet outside, even though we are still supposed to be in the throws of summer tourist season. Things don't usually dry up around here until after the leaves have turned. It's that garish spectacle of brilliant colors when nature provides the equivalent of a laser light show for the gawking leaf peepers who make a mess of Main Street and jam things all the way up route 7 to Stockbridge . Usually Halloween is the punctuation mark at the end of it all. But this year it seems darker than usual, weirdly sinister, as if Halloween is already here, and we aren't even out of August yet. Of course, it could be just me. I'm the sort of person that looks around at all the pretty colors and all I can think about is how all these leaves are giving their lives for this.