Читать книгу Maggot Brain Dreams - Cameron C. Duncan - Страница 2

Ernest Hemingway once said “The writer must write what he has to say not speak it” We are not limited to the obvious we are not limited to the extraordinary, we are driven by emotion and manage our desires and shortcomings with our strength; the ability to capture emotion like spring water in an oversized jar. Writing is not about words it’s about inciting thought when audio is not available. It’s the expression of Love in a Ballad the projection of sadness in the blues, or the power of passion in a poem.

I would rather have a million thoughts and not make a sound, than speak without merit. Besides somewhere between my brain and my tongue words just seem to get lost, and even the perfect sentence meant to be chronicled in color became merely chaos. There is no eraser for what is spoken, there is no option to rip it up and start over, only regret. I used to want to be like the guy on stage adored by thousands or the smooth talking guy at the bar who could knock a complete a stranger off of her feet, well, really just anything more than I was, which to me never really seemed like all that much. I was the secret admirer, the guy who wanted the last dance but was too shy to ask; the guy whose thoughts were much greater than his presence, a Maggot Brain. I wasn’t completely lost but writing was the only way I had to be remembered, the only thing in life that I was ever more than just good at. I needed to be better than great. I had a gift; the struggle was how to open it. There were the voices, the heartache, the frustrations, and the need to be more. Pain was my path to happiness and my quest for creations wagered on certain destruction. Sometimes you’re nobody till you’re gone and I lived so that I could have in death what I never would in life, Immortality.

This is my tale, my dreams and nightmares.

What is a Maggot Brain? It is even more than a mesmerizing guitar solo by the late great yet under-known guitarist Eddie Hazel. Picture the visual context of complex thought and intellect being feasted on by the need of a simpler organism to survive. Jealous motives to rob another of a spirit that they wish to possess themselves. The challenges of life strip imagination and dreams from innocence even faster than time steals youth. Life, pain, passion, pride, humility, glory, love, loneliness, death, in these days I speak to you in truth. You have provided me with the courtesy to lead you through the journey of my life. I ask not for sympathy or admiration, I will not transpose myself into a hero a saint. I am a flawed man and son; I am all as I am none. One of the hardest parts of sharing this story with you was being able to reveal my secrets, my fears, my delusions and my weaknesses. I believe for every man God has written a melody of purpose, our choices write the verses and at the end we earn our chorus. Jim Morrison once spoke of life being a movie that we would reflect a upon once our lives are over he said

“The movie will begin, in five moments, the mindless voice announced. All those unseated will await the next show. We filed slowly, languidly, into the hall. The auditorium was vast and silent. As we seated and were darkened, the voice continued; the program for this evening is not new. You have seen this entertainment, thru and thru. You’ve seen your birth, your life and death. You might recall all the rest (Did you have a good world, when you died) enough to base a movie on?”

I deliberated upon that question not for an answer but in reflection of the fact that to this point, I would not want to sit in a room and watch the story of my life, there was nothing to base a movie on, not even a scene. I may not be interesting enough for a film but at least I had plenty for a lyric sheet.