Passion Stolen....

I need my fix. I've gone almost an effing year without it. I just can't stand it. I feel the familiar urge coming on, and I try to deal with it. But I just can't.

No, really. I CAN'T do too much about it, not right now.

Now that my self-esteem has picked up again, I find myself looking at pictures of me during my old addiction.

I'm currently watching an animated series called The Legend of Black Heaven. Only those with my addiction would understand the full scope of the effect this show has had on me the past few days. But it reminded me. It reminded me of the one gift that a higher power gave me at birth that I do, and do well.

It is my passion. My obsession. And now, lack of it is starting to become my pain.

If you haven't figured it out yet, my addiction is clearly displayed on my profile picture.

When I feel the urge, I pick up my Alvarez D-150 Acoustic. But it's just not the same. Not one damned bit.

It doesn't compare to plugging into an amplifier, cranking the master volume control, playing the stereo or a recently produced demo and playing along with it.

To become so lost in what I do I care not what anyone sees, the expressions on my face, only what I feel in my heart. It is the greatest natural high I have ever accomplished; the joy I feel playing guttural rhythm grooves or forcing one of my nine electric guitars to scream a high pitched, throaty cry....it's the equivalent of climbing a mountain.....then diving back down again into an extremely fast pentatonic or diatonic or frygian riff.....it's the equivalent of parachuting off the same mountain...and the faster and harder you go, the better it feels. The inspiration that got you to pick up your instrument in the first place suddenly gives spontaneous birth to brand new inspiration, sometimes without end. I know when I've done a good 'workout' when the backside of my right forearm and my guitar are both drenched in sweat when I'm done.

So at this point you're probably asking yourself "WHY the hell can't you do it already, GET OVER IT and just DO it?"

It's not that simple.

I live in an apartment complex. Strike one. My 'room' for all my musical stuff is shared by my son when he comes over....but I don't think the kid needs any more than just a damned foldout bed in the living room, because he lives on the PS2 when he is inside the apartment. So, there's a space problem.

My amplifier is set up. But it's cramped. There's no stereo in that room. Music playing on a stereo helps me set the mood, as well as get in the mood. It really does. Whether it be an SRV CD or some old rock-glam song. Something that sings melodiously, whatever-it-is that inspires me.

Lately a lot has been inspiring me, which is why this awareness in myself has been reawoken.

I'm a little self-conscious playing that deeply as described above around my wife. Yes, I just said I don't care whose watching, but I do wonder what she's going to say or think if she ever sees me actually putting all of myself into something like that. She's only gotten minor blasts of what I'm really capable of on the instrument. As much as I know and love my wife so deeply, this is a side of me (albeit a good one, I think) that she has yet to really see.

I used to have the ideal situation living at home, and in my brief year in my rent house in Oak Cliff. When everyone was at work, or on a Saturday afternoon when my ex went shopping, I would crank and blast. Even when we were living in my grandmother's upstair apartment, we had a door separating rooms. I could crank as much as I liked upstairs, as long as the door was shut. My grandmother is tolerant of noise, in fact, I think she prefers a noisy house. And this is going to sound rude, but she's in her 70s and losing her hearing, so there was little harm nor foul in cranking it up.

All I know is this when it comes to my playing...

Within me lurks something animalistic when it comes to music. Something demanding to be released. I can't crank my instrument amplification at home for the most obvious reason -- eviction. Which REALLY sucks. Bottom line (and those of you who play guitar know what I'm talking about)...if I can still hear the strings acoustically on my electric guitar OVER the volume of the amp, it's not loud enough. If I can't get some small unintentional feedback from the speaker of my amplifier (a la Hendrix) if I stand too close to it, it's not loud enough.

*sigh* I feel so oppressed, and so full of rage about the oppression. It's not really anybody's fault, I just wish we had a house.

And what's sad is, this is the greatest conduit I have ever had to deal with depression, anger, anxiety, etc., making music--and playing it from the heart--my greatest soul-cleanser. And I'm not just some noise maker... rarely have I ever gotten any complaints about my guitar playing (unless it was back when I was still learning a new song and my dad got pissed off about the fact that I kept playing the same tune over and over again, but that was just minor stuff...)

I'm not a top-40 artist, I haven't tried that because frankly fame scares me, but I'm damned good at what I do. And unlike ANYTHING else I'm good at, I love this in as much as I'm good at it, and unlike anything else I'm good at, I can never get enough of nor too much of it.

When it comes to music, I'm a free bird. And this bird you cannot change. Now I know how a bird feels in a cage.