sometimes fact, sometimes fiction -- the clock
something a little bit different for today. one of the reasons why posts around here have gotten so infrequent is my desire to make sand is overrated as personal as possible, and my insistence that as many posts as possible come from my own life and experiences. that becomes a problem because my life is usually, well, just not that interesting, and many times i don't feel comfortable sharing the things that are. as a compromise, i thought it might be interesting to try something else and stimulate some creativity at the same time. music has always been something that i very easily associate experiences and feelings with, and if i have no experiences of my own that relate to those feelings, i can usually imagine ones that do. that is what this is about: sometimes the experiences are my own (fact), sometimes the experiences are from my imagination (fiction)--and no i will not reveal which is which--but there is always a connection between the experience and the song.
there's a clock on the wall of my den where i spend a lot of time in pensive reflection. it's been hanging in the same place for several years now, though the only times i look at it are the times when i don't need to know what time it is. between the four and seven second mark of each minute, the second hand stalls on a gear that must be inadequately greased. a valiant struggle ensues, the second hand ticking forward only to be pulled backward by forces from within. a zero net sum of progress belies the effort expended on both sides, and for several seconds or sometimes several minutes, time fails to advance. inevitably, the second hand prevails and resumes its forward march around the dial, if only for another 53 seconds before it's stopped again. the second hand always wins. you can never really stop the hands of time.
the obvious effect of this continuous struggle is, of course, that this clock that hangs on my wall nearly always displays the incorrect time. so i no longer look to it for temporal guidance. instead, there is a kind of blind optimism that this clock exudes, fighting its fight one minute after another, as if it is positive that the next turn--the next turn will be its turn to win. it is the kind of pollyannaish hope that only those unhardened by cynicism could truly appreciate, and it gives life to dreams that have been long since discarded and deemed impossible. inspiration indeed comes from anywhere you find it. how could i possibly replace a clock so valuable?
eluvium : "prelude for time feelers"
from the lp copia (temporary residence, 2007) emusic