the heat. or the heat and the work. or the lack of work. or a wisdom that comes with age. maybe just the heat. yeah, the heat. it has put me in a quieter place than i'm used to. as if it's been my responsibility to talk. to stand on a stage and talk. to entertain. to keep the mood light. to make sure everyone is smiling. no one goes home early. the spotlight burned my retinas and the crowd applauded now and again. i talked my way through hours and days, and brought on lots of special guests. and finally, the chairs are stacked. there's a guy in the back of the place sweeping, and he's not talking either. i like him. and we are quiet. and i can be tired, and it's okay. and i can loosen my collar and sit down, and slowly sip something cool and fizzy for my dry throat.

and in this place, i can take off the costume and slide into my skin again. it's nice to sit here and reflect.

if i had wishes at this tiny moment, they would be these:

1. for the company of a woman i cannot quite place

2. to be in that moment at the very end of a good massage

3. to know something exciting is happening tomorrow, to have tonight to look forward to it.

wishes always come in threes, right?

ok, i would also wish for a dallop of chocolate mousse on top of a perfect coconut pie.

ok, enough of all that. i'm going back to the lovely calm in my head.

about the music

i like paul simon. i hope you don't think that's silly... i hope you, too, appreciate the genius of his light ditties and ddddeeply felt ballots. i think i'm drawn to the fact that he doesn't seem to try very hard to impress you with his voice... and yet, it is smooth. it is on key. it does hit those highs and lows with precision. but you can tell he's not trying to, say, seduce you, or win some award for fitting the highest number of notes into a single measure.

i miss my guitar a lot today. i crave the quiet room of people i sometimes find along the way... the listening ears. i long to hear someone's fingers drumming on a table top to the rhythm of my own strumming.

why do i make music? it isn't a choice, i realized. some of my earliest memories include sitting on the swing in our backyard; my feet quite far from the ground, pushing forward and pulling back in time to some words i made up to some melody that flowed out... it was like breathing. it was instinct. it was passing the time.

when i was scared on the SPIDER- a particularly frightening ride at the state fair that i decided to brave long before i felt really ready- my sister tried to comfort me, pushed tight against me in the cart as we moved slowly up and down in a wide circle, quickly gaining terrible momentum... she saw my stiff fingers gripping the bar, my eyes filling with tears, and she told me to sing. it worked. it works. i opened my mouth and let words flow, up and down along with my unwilling body, spinning with us in the cart.... and when we landed finally, my sister asked "are you ok?". i was surprised and glad to answer "yes, i'm fine."

"what was that song?"

"oh, i don't know i was making it up"

she thought i was lying.... so i can only guess it at least rhymed or stayed focused on some subject, though even at that very moment, and still now, i could not recall a single syllable.

i still sing when i'm scared, anyway.

or hurt.

when i'm scared, my song is brave. when i'm hurt, it is a mother's song. when i'm happy, the song suggests all problems in the world are small. when i'm worried, it lays out just how grave the world's problems really are.

sometimes, when i can incorporate an instrument, i am able to keep my songs with me a while. some i forget after a moment or two, some after a month, some after a few years. but when i really like one, and really make an effort, i can keep it alive. i write the words in a journal sloppily... i struggle to read the words i wrote once some time has passed. i just must be careful to play the music enough times to i retain it... i don't know how to record it on paper properly, and i am usually out of reach of helpful technology when the mood strikes...

but i have kept a few songs through the years.

they are mostly love songs. i'm good at loving.

and a lot are about heartache, too.... cause i'm also good at letting go.

i hope to expand my material... to write from some perspective other than that of a girl hyper-focused on the state of some relationship she is or was a part of.

i'm proud of my songs. i know i'm not a very good guitar player, but i get by. i know i'm not the most impressive singer, but again, mr.simon isn't either... and that's just what impresses me. I just try to keep the voice honest.

and the lyrics? i am told they're moving. they often make girls start to cry. it's a pretty amazing feeling to identify with others through song. pretty amazing.

what do i do with this, then?

people try to encourage me to 'make a go' of my music... try to 'get it out there'

i don't hate performing, but i don't see it as the life for me, day in and day out, either. i can't imagine playing the same songs again and again for people... they must lose their meaning after a while.

and i could try to sell my songs, but then they could be mutated into something completely different, and what can i do? it's changed. i might have a few dollars saying otherwise, but it wouldn't be what I made...

so i guess i just want to keep doing what i do. i want to write when i'm inspired. i want to sing when i feel the need, or the desire. i want to connect with small circles of people who have some idea of what i'm singing about.

i prefer playing for friends as apposed to a room full of strangers, because my songs are personal... and singing them out to strangers feels like making smalltalk, and that's never all that honest or pure.

i'm not singing to be polite. i'm not singing to entertain, even. i'm singing because i have this song welling up and pushing out... i'm doing it for me. and if you like to be around when it happens, well, then, we'll probably get along just fine.

and if i don't find some instrument to join me soon, i'm going to explode into a million pieces of frustrated sound on the streets of gwangju.