music and then some more...

music and then some more...
all of four... one hmv turntable... 5 LPs that became ingrained into my psyche forever... Elvis Presley, The Beatles - the one with the black cover and their faces, trini lopez, the ventures, cliff richards - summer holiday... the one that stuck on really like super-glue was The King. He rocked, and he rolled, he warbled, he made the LPs scratchy with over-use, The King cried and he screamed, in short, when the King sang... I danced... very few musicians have made me feel pure joy... The King was one of them... oh yeah... he was the first one... i began holding hair-brushes, pretending to be on stage... i moved and hopped around like a jackrabbit across the sitting room, leaping off the sofa, and there was dad doing his groovy "twist"... the fad those days... back then televisions were a novelty, and multiplex was just another non-existant complex word... what does one remember about their childhood... other than the mischief, the pranks... do yo realize that every one of us has a back-story, a truck-load of experiences and stories that will never get told, or shared... just because its a given that our stories remain just our stories... am i making sense here? yeah, but picture this - we meet up friends, or make new friends... and what we get is just 20% of their lives... the rest of the 80% never gets told... what was their childhood like... come to think of it... aging is crap... do you remember what you did every single day of your life, every single moment... these moments just pass on into some out of focus corner in the sub-conscious never to surface again.. they take with them not just the experiences, but also the feelings one felt at that time, on those moments as they happened... and often these never get recreated, or felt... it becomes a myth in our heads... they grow in stature... aah the first time i held her hand... the first time she smiled... my first bicycle... all we remember is a vague mental picture that stutters to life for a few seconds like an old 8mm projector which beams this memoric image somewhere between your eyes inside your fore-head... and then its gone... aging is crap... i wish i had the foresight to write down each day as it happened... but am i just afraid to let go of the past, or am i just having a very shitty present? what about the future? does anything go according to plan? john lennon summed it up aptly - "life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans..." so what is the moral of the story? carpe diem - grab each moment by its balls, and pray that your memory does not fail you 10 years down the line so that you do not have to rely on your mental projector... but relive the moment once more...