Some 25 years ago I was just about to move to Baltimore and join the community at Maryland Institute College of Art – and little did I know, the entire direction of my Life was going to change – because at art school I was about to discover music.
Partially there was a woman – she taught me my first chords and I yearned to play music along with her – I probably made a fool of myself but she was patient and kind about it… and partially there was this crooning voice that came echoing across the dorm courtyard almost every night. Almost wordless by the time it reached anyone’s ears, it took me a little while to track down the origin – one of the upperclassmen, one of our R.A.s – Dan Blakeslee would stand in a stairwell and sing Love songs and sad songs and new songs and old songs and his heart and soul would pour out of Building 2 and through the entire Commons.
We caught him at the coffeehouse almost every week and then, after he’d graduated, his return visits were celebrated with music and romance. His voice is something that I associate with first kisses and other firsts. He was romantic without being threatening the way so many other rockstar personalities could be. I spent a lot of time curled up and held, being held and holding, hair and scents and long autumn nights… all wrapped in his voice.
We shared a stage tonight, and it was powerful to be on the receiving end of all that emotive radiance again. My friend Lea sat on the other side of the stage – and the three of us put on an amazing show. But while we were on stage, I was blocked from feeling TOO deeply because I was worried about this and wondering about that. The classic problem of not listening closely enough because you’re trying to think of what YOU’RE going to say – because the show must go on and there won’t be time to think in the afterglow.
Later later – the drive home is dark and wet – and Dan’s new album croons to me through my battered car stereo – now I’ve got time.
It’s hard for me to focus on music while I’m driving. It takes over my senses. I focus on it rather than the road, and it’s probably a bit dangerous. But listening to Dan’s voice sear into me, painting longing pictures of Love and loss and the sea and of Texas – it makes me miss those long cold moist autumn nights in Baltimore, falling in Love without really knowing the meaning of it. So many stories just breaking on the rocks and sinking as the years pass by.
1 thought on “It was all so long ago…”
These last five posts…Journal perfection…..with eloquence and expressive word work, you pour out your thoughts and feelings…..which is so brave and causes me to consider so many things in my own life. You describe the world around you so I feel as if I’m there. The Journal is immense and sprawling and I continue to be mesmerized by it. Don’t stop…….