like a lot of people, i go through periods where i get pretty down about my life situation. for a long time now, writing songs and making music have been a means of dealing with those periods and coping with the experiences that have been tough going. but it’s weird with me, because part of that cycle of coping for me seems to be this:
1) write songs to help express thoughts and feelings that are otherwise very difficult for me to express.
2) record those songs, as a sort of… catharsis? i don’t know. catharsis/airing of grievances/punishment.
3) destroy the recordings, because… i don’t know why. maybe it just sucks to be confronted by the things you create when you’re not in absolute control of your emotions and/or mental state.
so, every once in a while i end up finding something on a scrap of paper, or maybe a notebook, or even on an old disc, that comes from one of these create/purge cycles. work i did, which was of supreme importance at the time– and which may have prevented me from doing some terrible things– that no longer exists.
it makes me a little sad, because however good or awful the music was, that was kind of the story of my life. those are my journals, my memoirs. that’s where i was at. then it’s all gone, except for these weird little missives that i wrote myself.
people are very strange animals.