The Room

When I look over my life, there's one thing that has become clear to me.  I've never had one.  Being drawn to music gave me something to focus on, something to do in a room by myself. A means to avoid living and adjusting to most things normal. Outside of that room were bullies in school, girls I didn't know how to communicate with, a lack of academic knowledge that would allow me never to be more than a burger flipper and a vulnerability to people who found me interesting. Oh, and of course a lack of will to do anything about it.

It was fortunate that I ended up on the road playing music. This suited me. I got to play music and when the music was done, I got to go back in a room.   It was always the room.  Even after 30 years, a wife, two daughters, it's still the room.  

Things began to change for me when I realized that I was losing interest in music. That is to say, not interested enough to continue a life of relentless disappointments, mixed messages, and the realization that this will never pay off.  Which of course left me with an emptiness I can't explain.

So what do I do now?  Do I feel sorry for myself? No, I feel nothing. 

 "Miche" has learned to cope, he's good at it. He's self create and strong. He has an intellectual understanding of life. But things do change. "Miche" is ready to move on, which of course leaves "Mick". 

  

"Mick" is an apparition.  That he's been for a long time.
"Mick" doesn't know how to cope.