without art, music, or writing how does one convey the nuances of existence or fine-tune the feelings we all experience
those creatives born to this world strive to master understanding through story-telling with words, music, and images they heal, they evoke, they help soothe the aches of living
we celebrate and can laugh with what we hear, feel, and see artists are precious gifts in this world their perspectives do add so much to our day-to-day they can uplift us as well as empathize with us
and the world is a better place because of those who give us—with their words, notes, and art—a deeper meaning to our existence
One of my bestest friends – Eddy Dean Purcell (AKA Uncle Eddy – Former Rockstar Wannabe, and Current Online Radio DJ Wannabe), has launched his latest venture, and I invite you to join his weekly shoutout to the best of the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s!
Eddy showcases such a wide variety of good music that I rock in my seat every time I listen to his podcasts. I’m sitting here at the airport creating this post with the earbuds blasting into my skull, and I’m giving fellow passengers a show I don’t think they were expecting to see at 8 AM. But who cares! I’m enjoying myself.
I know I have many readers who are also music lovers, so go check him out. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed! Like him, follow him. It would mean the world to him!
Enough already!! What the hell is going on? Why doesn’t the phone ring stop? I’ve pressed all buttons.
Because once you hang up on one, the next one comes in. That happens when you produce something stupendous; everyone wants your ear to make the next big deal, feature you, or showcase you for their benefit. Revel in it, darling, for you may end up a one-hit-wonder. There’s been a ton since the beginning of the music industry. You know how this business is—so fickle. So enjoy this while it lasts, and for goodness’ sake, start working on your next hit!
My pain is nestled in these lyrics. Bringing back those days of hurt so acutely, so clearly. Wounded beyond repair, devastated by the despair. The US once my cure for loneliness, no more. Shattered in an instant. Unease in my core, life flickering out of my heart. Every moment of remembrance takes me back when you split US into two. I fear I’ll need a lifetime’s worth of healing to get back my equilibrium.
Clouds part Just to give us a little sun
There’s a limit to your love Like a waterfall in slow motion Like a map with no ocean There’s a limit to your love Your love, your love, your love
There’s a limit to your care So carelessly there Is it truth or dare? There’s a limit to your care
I love, I love, I love This dream of going upstream I love, I love, I love The trouble that you give me I know, I know, I know That only I can save me I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go Right down the road
There’s a limit to your love Like a waterfall in slow motion Like a map with no ocean There’s a limit to your love Your love, your love, your love
I can’t read your smile It should be written on your face I’m piecing it together There’s something out of place Oh
I love I love, I love This dream of going upstream I love, I love, I love The trouble that you give me I know, I know, I know That only I can save me I’ll go, I’ll go, I’ll go Out on the road Because there is no limit There’s no limit No limit, no limit, no limit Limit to my love
When you get older, plainer, saner When you remember all the danger we came from Burning like embers, falling, tender Long before the days of no surrender Years ago and well you know
Smoke ’em if you got ’em ‘Cause it’s going down All I ever wanted was you I’ll never get to heaven ‘Cause I don’t know how
Let’s raise a glass or two To all the things I’ve lost on you Oh oh Tell me are they lost on you? Oh oh Just that you could cut me loose Oh oh After everything I’ve lost on you Is that lost on you? Oh oh Is that lost on you? Oh oh Baby, is that lost on you? Is that lost on you?
Wishing I could see the machinations Understand the toil of expectations in your mind Hold me like you never lost your patience Tell me that you love me more than hate me all the time And you’re still mine
So smoke ’em if you’ve got ’em ‘Cause it’s going down All I ever wanted was you Let’s take a drink of heaven This can turn around
Let’s raise a glass or two To all the things I’ve lost on you Oh oh Tell me are they lost on you? Oh oh Just that you could cut me loose Oh oh After everything I’ve lost on you Is that lost on you? Oh oh Is that lost on you? Oh oh, oh oh Babe, is that lost on you? Is that lost on you?
Let’s raise a glass or two To all the things I’ve lost on you Oh oh Tell me are they lost on you? Oh oh Just that you cold cut me loose Oh oh After everything I’ve lost on you Is that lost on you? Is that lost on you?
It can laugh with me. It can cry with me. It can bring together what was once separated.
Music can tell me what lips are afraid to say.
Music can bring back what I lost.
Music alone therefore is chosen.
Margarete Kernbach is my grandmother on my mother’s side. I found this parchment with her words following my mother’s death in 2012. It was among the things she left behind, very simply preserved in a plastic frame. I never knew my Oma wrote poetry. Nor do I know if this was the only poem or if there were ever any other writings by her. I only know of this one.
Discovering this little poem ties me to my grandmother in a profound way, at least for me it does. Not that I realized it at that moment though. I…
I Write Her 