music
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Chapter — The Alphabet That Couldn’t Sing I tried to build words from an alphabet that was not my own. Spanish at home, English at school. The letters felt foreign, cold to the touch, like tools meant for someone else’s hands. The sentences they made were like conversations overheard through a wall—recognizable as speech, but
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Music prompt mind, Six months in a leaky boat. Cruising down the freeway—feeling that fleeting “free” way vibe—I had Split Enz’s “Six Months in a Leaky Boat” blasting through my speakers. The wind was whipping, the lyrics were hitting, but as usual, my brain played its favorite game: swapping out half-heard words for whatever nonsense
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Struttin’ Your StuffYou’re struttin’ your stride,threads loud and bright,pants huggin’ tight,feelin’ just right.Shirt’s a snug tease,assets in view,glidin’ with ease,king of the crew. Think John Travolta,Stayin’ Alive on blast,(beat thumps—boom, you’re fast),head bobbin’ side to side,back and forth, so fly,every eye’s glued,you’re the guy. Boom, boom,chakka, chakka,strut’s in full swing,you’re owning everything—then your big toe-tipsnags
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Home from a long day, I turn on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and let my mind slip free from the shackles of routine. I drift into the music, becoming part of it, letting it steer my thoughts. It builds a world through one voice and many—instruments weaving together, tempos shifting, crescendos rising, then resting, only to
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March 16, 2025—halfway through the month, and my birthday looms just weeks away. Fifty-something isn’t a number that demands a parade or a spotlight, but it’s another lap around this vast, spinning blue planet. Lately, I’ve been hearing Frank Sinatra’s I Did It My Way on the radio, its familiar notes pulling me into a
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“Steps Back” (Song #2) [Verse 1]I’d take a step toward her, reaching out slow,Meeting her where she was, where she couldn’t go.The space she might’ve claimed, I stole it away,So she carved out more, stepped back to stay. From that new ground where we stood, I could see,Every move I made pushed her further from
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Unravel the ocean’s veiled skin,a spectral hush between me and earth,blue sinews clutching my limbs,whispering weightless lies— float, drift, pull—further, further—or drown. The tide chants hymns of urgency,promises carved in salt:“arrive, achieve, or vanish.” I claw towards the vanishing edge,where breath and bone dissolve,where the Fixx hums through vacant veins,a beach of endings waiting,waiting—for me
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**Phantom girl, adrift in air,woven light and whispered prayer.Mirror seas and silent chime,lost between the pulse of time. Veil of glass, a frozen blur,echoes hum but never stir.Stars dissolve, yet still they burn—step beyond, unmask, return.** a response to this song that i always found mysterious Lyrics Every day, every mightIn that all old familiar
BB Grey--musings 