The one thing I remember about the Jimi Hendrix biography I read while I was a lifeguard during the times in the concession area or office is that he practiced playing guitar constantly, no matter where he was. He'd even bring it to the movies with him and play it without sound. All the wild tales of sex and drugs fell away in light of this fact -- as a person who wanted to be a writer, I saw that I would have to change my ways! I'd been mighty proud of myself that I'd completed my very first collection of poems, a ghastly set that I'd entitled Irrational Fears. Each section had poems about a different phobia. What fun! What joy! Now if I saw it, I'd probably howl about how bad it was. And I'd only spent a few minutes during lifeguarding breaks on it. I was not taking my guitar to the movies, no sir. I hadn't made any sacrifices except telling a few of the male lifeguards to buzz off, I am working, can't you see! It wasn't much of a struggle.
By the time I'd gotten to the Hendrix biography, I'd just finished reading Lolita which seemed fitting -- both books were about a singular obsession. I've always liked the word obsession better than addiction although they share a lot -- the outside world falls away and all thoughts of the person or thing become paramount. You lose a lot of time and energy to both. Like your mind and your entire life. Nobody told me it would be quite like this! But wait -- both the Bible and Jimi Hendrix point to it -- you must lose your life to find it, you must take your guitar everywhere and play it all the time. There's not as much time for sex and drugs as you'd like! Like anyone trapped in a calling, everything else falls aways like so many snowflakes. You notice them as you walk to your destination, but they don't stop you even as they pile up. You present yourself as a living sacrifice until life chokes every last breath out of you.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"The time I burned my guitar it was like a sacrifice. You sacrifice the things you love. I love my guitar." Jimi Hendrix
Cocktail Hour
Drinking music suggestion: Bold As Love Jimi Hendrix
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday to everyone!
23 comments:
As one of those weird synchronicities, I heard on the radio today that a company is going to relase Jimi Hendrix Energy Drinks. That's kinda sad, and somehow I don't think they'll make people practice their guitars more.
Weird?
If it weren't for that angel, Isaac would've been a goner.
This year we're giving up Butterfingers for Lent.
I don't mind covering my head for the Lord.
So I don't have a convertible. You're still a very attractive woman.
I heard that. To me, wearing red is an ironic sacrifice.
Piggy just had to go.
Creon was such a bastard!
Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.
I cut down on cigars. But it wasn't much of a sacrifice. Fifi didn't like them, if you know what I mean.
That's amazing, Rodney. I could never cut down on cigars.
I considered sacrificing my middle name to politics, but I chose not to. The decision is mine and I will live with it. Allah Akbar!
I don't like extremes in temperatures. Besides, I would like to have tadpoles.
Mardi Gras will never be as big and bad as this year! What levees? They finally got all the mud out of my house! Party on!
Cajun Q
JIMI Play on Little Wing
lightincandles
writinvandles
Marywindcries
FoxyLadyD
SavedRCity
snowflakesinwind
ShazammmMightyIsis
R2C2!
wiutIt seems to me that the sacrifice is time. Allowing time to live and you living with it; spending it on your craft rather than anything else. To the point where interruptions make you angry because they ruin your train of thought.
In order for me to practice this writing craft I had to get a neck broke in two places five fused vertabrae, a blinded eye, carpel tunnel in two hands to the point where my fingers woud literally fold into my palm and refuse to unfold for ten to fifteen minutes before i could go back to my trade.
But when they put this man out to pasture it gave me only one thing Time. and I had to choose whether to let the time live or to kill it I spent many of the years since then killing it, now I let it live and I write. It is now time given me to do do what i have always done since I was 12 but never had time to do more than kick out a poem a day during breaks.
Sacrifice gladly I sacrifice my time to write. even though I make no attempt at publishing it anymore. done that, know what it feels like, don't care about it anymore took to much time away from writing. so ocassionally I put themed chap out self published through vanity press.Because that takes less time away from doing the one thing I want to do, write.
Now I have material approaching 2 million words in all kinds of styles full length manuscripts, one of which is 170000 words, to poems that are ten words or less.
Time is the sacrifice, somedays i'd rather drink but I don't do that anymore, somedays i'd rather watch tv but it bores me so between the creative writing which is mostly hack and all the other places I spend time writing shit like this, allowing time to live and me with it, I believe I am good for 3000 words a day. because i choose to practice my craft with the time I am willing to sacrifice. The only thing is I won't burn any of it. God already knows the sacrifices we make to do what we do.
peace
TWM
I tried to learn guitar, but I failed miserably. Hopefully the writing thing works out a little better for me. At least it won't bother my neighbors.
Good story Michelle!
You have to admire people who are so dedicated to their passion as to sacrifice so many other things in life.
Weird?
Good story. I don't know if I'd sacrifice everything else for any specific calling though. I'd kind of like to have it all. But I guess somethings gotta give in the process.
Hey, I remember a skinny white teenager spitting at Gilbert's Lounge in St. Clair Shores. My wife and I used to laugh at him. "What a goof," I'd say. Guess the laughs on us; It was Eminem, prior to his wealth and fame. So Michelle, did you make any money off of "Irrational Fears?" Although downright rude, like asking me how much do I make a year, I thought I'd ask anyway. Isn't that what most people do when they hear you're a writer? So how much money did you make from that short story or that poem or that whatever ... I tend to ignore the question and keep writing.
This was very fitting to read. My writing obsession has cut into my sleeping time, which then seems to affect my mood. I try hard to just allow it and not fight the insomnia. It is evident that in order to remain in my current state I just have to reprioritize. Things that were important at one time just seem less significant now.
Thank you for sharing that, Michelle.
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