Not There

I saw The Zombies perform in Pasadena on Friday night.

They were phenomenal! I wish I could remember their setlist in its entirety.
I remember they played I Love You, Can't Nobody Love You, She's Not There, Time of the Season, This Will be Our Year, Care of Cell 44, Tell Her No, Road Runner, Sticks and Stones, 2 Argent covers, and some of the new stuff which wasn't bad at all. In all honesty, age has not slowed them down one bit.

From the first notes, you could tell that they still had it.

They never lost it.

But despite how great they performed, one thing I couldn't shake from my mind was that despite their glory and splendor on stage, they've fallen.

Much like other heroes I've had. (Though this isn't to fully dismiss anyone I've admired or will come to admire.)

Maybe because the venue kinda sucked.

Hmm.

I've written about heroes before.
But I think it's okay to revisit old topics from time to time, provided that you don't let them devour you to the point of excess or ridicule.

I don't necessarily hope to outlive my heroes or die with them, but to grow with them and not necessarily out of them.

I used to admire (Carlos) Santana when I was a kid and he was probably the driving force behind me picking up the guitar (or sticking to it). Then it came to the point where I blurred the distinction between gimmick and signature and concluded something to the effect of, "he does the same thing all the time!" which in turn led me to tune out.

In that same vein, I've also done similar to people I know and held close.

It's not something I want to do but it's also something over which I have no control, it seems.

One crack presents itself and in time becomes bigger and bigger, and harder to ignore.

It's a sad thing to have to admit: when you know you've let go of your heroes and probably in doing so: what you thought they stood for.

This would explain why I haven't had the full steam I used to when playing guitar. It's not even a matter of quasi-arthritis and the fact that my wrists tend to get stiff when I play for extended periods of time. Though quasi-arthritis is something to look into. I'm probably cold and tired from my job, and maybe getting older. But definitely aware I should play more guitar.

For myself.

She Abandoned Me

Silence
settling over the echoes of emptiness
of nothingness upon dust

Nary an iota
of what it never meant

Only faded rust

There was probably some hope
but now that's gone.

There was probably life on that planet
but now:
doomed to crawl towards the ever fading stars

Wasn't this miserable
Wasn't this weird
Wasn't this

Was more pleasant
Was more ferocious
Was more

But it's not anyone's responsibility

guide me in the right direction

It's nobody's cross to bear but my own

Yeah.

I'm on my own.

A skeleton howls at the stars.
twinkling ashes of yesterday cover self-made scars.
Night washes away a poorly self-constructed angst

The weakest shield from
"she abandoned me."

Was she ever here to begin with?