A Rain of Frogs

it’s the space between two mirrors
a place where shadows cross,
a tree falling in a forest
with nobody there to mourn the loss

walk by fast under a cloud-filled sky
it’s the reflection of a shadow of a song once sung
if you try hard enough it’ll fade away
if you lie hard enough it’ll fade away

it’s a face between two shadows
a place where two mirrors show
the moon has risen before the sun has set
it gets you so high you end up low

fly by fast under a tear-filled sky
it’s the reflection of a ghost of a song once loved
if you try hard enough it’ll fade away
if you lie hard enough it’ll fade away

it’s the space between two mirrors
a place where shadows cross,
a tree falling in a burning forest
the whole world there to mourn the loss

if you fly hard enough it’ll fade away
if you try hard enough it’ll fade away
if you lie hard enough it’ll fade away
if you die hard enough it’ll fade away

I often find myself awake at four in the morning, listing to city life outside the window and tracing with my eyes the path of shadows swirled across the plaster by the ceiling fan. During these times the temptation for introspection is irresistible, the barriers of self preservation all safely still asleep while the conscious mind that created them wrestles with insomnia.

I often, during these times, think about how I got where I am. I have, as I’ve mentioned before in these pages, spent a significant portion of my life making decisions as if they were already a foregone conclusion – that is, by not making them at all and sort of letting the ebb and flow of life wash over me. This long string of barely-made decisions stretches out behind me like the tail of a kite. Or a long winding linkage of train cars.

Why the hell am I riding this train? This locomotive, hurtling down the rails in the dark, with no destination, no plan and no scenery whipping by in the darkness has become my life, and I its tentative passenger.

Maybe the rocking motion of its passage helps me sleep. Or maybe the urgency of ramming through the now into the unknown of the future keeps my heart pounding and assures me I’m still alive. Maybe I’ve taken this metaphor further into the desert than I should.

Ambivalence is something I’ve pontificated about on many occasions, when I could find a willing audience. Or even an unwilling one. It’s sort of a pot-kettle-black situation though, as I’m probably more guilty of ambivalence in my past decision making than most people. Hypocrisy at it’s more base.

Through ambivalence I have created a life for myself that isn’t uncomfortable, but isn’t what it should be either. I’ve reached a crossroads at which I am going to have to be content with the consequences of my decisions to not make decisions and continue on the road I’ve paved for myself, or I am going to have to make some difficult choices to rectify the mistakes of my past.

The road less travelled is always difficult, but the path not yet discovered even more so. Like you, I watch with interest to see which way I shall follow.

Last night, during my regular wednesday night gig, I experienced technical difficulties for the first time. I’d play a few notes, and my amplified would go into overload protection and stop making sound. Then, after it had cooled slightly it would come back on, only to repeat the problem.

After seven songs of this weird behavior, the amp started functioning normally, but those first seven songs were weird.

But that’s not the end of the story. The malevolent spirit haunting my bass amp must have decided it could do more damage to my friend’s guitar because it leapt over there, and proceeded to cause the sound to cut in and out repeatedly in the middle of Come Together. While I’ll be the first to admit that Come Together leans heavily on the bass for it’s distinctive sound, it does require a guitar to actually pull it off. Thankfully he had a second guitar there.

Weird, that after so many years of minimal technical problems we’d both have such weirdness on the same night.

she’s sitting on a chair,
in a dusty, cluttered room,
she’s chewing on her golden hair,
in the sunstreaked gloom.

she’s smiling at the wall,
and she’s smiling at them all,
she’s been playing with the seams,
between the real world and its dreams.

she’s more than she asked for,
and she’s more than she had thought,
she’s more than you think she is,
but what she feels is caught.

between the real world and its dreams,
sewn up in the seams between,
where sometimes a smile’s a frown,
and everything is upside down.

in a patch of dust-streaked sun,
in a gloomy cluttered room,
she’s playing with her golden hair,
and sitting on her golden chair.

she’s more than she wanted,
and she’s more than she should be,
she’s more than she can handle,
but it’s to late to see.

into the real world and its dreams,
sewn up now the seams in between,
where sometimes the chair’s just rotten wood,
and nothing’s right at all.

Interesting and sophisticated
refusing to be celebrated
it’s a monumental big screen kiss
it’s so deep it’s meaningless

One day you’ll just up and quit
and that’ll be it
just then the stripper stopped in a coughing fit
she said sorry i can’t go on with this

Yeah that’s awful close
but that’s not why
I’m so hard done by

It was true cinema à clef
you should see it before there’s nothing left
in an epic too small to be tragic
you’ll have to wait a minute
‘cause it’s an instamatic

Yeah that’s awful close
but that’s not why
I’m so hard done by

Just then the room became more dimly lit
as the emcee carried on with it
and now that i got you all strangely compelled
I’m afraid that Candy’s not feeling well

Close, but that’s not why
i’m so hard done by

I’d like to thank the Tragically Hip for saying with So Hard Done By something that I am still unable to articulate in my own words.

I hear time and again from people how this band or that song helped them through hard times when they were younger. Being a trained musician as a teenager, and worse, a hardcore music snob, I was unable to lean emotionally on music when I was having trouble.

Now, though, I am seeing deep meaning in songs of my past. I am sure many people have found deeper meaning in these songs, but for me, it’s something of a revelation. Kind of like a gifted mechanic suddenly discovering that a particular shade of green on an otherwise unremarkable car has had a profound emotional effect on him.

It’s awful close, anyway.