I don’t write to be famous, I don’t write to be known, I write because I am and I want to be read. How sad to fill a room with paintings no one sees or play music no one hears. Writing is talking without sound, singing without score and dancing without movement and yet, it is all of them. It is a solitary art conjured from thought and expressed by the need to communicate.

HEAD SLAPS, SPEED BUMPS and LIGHTBULBS, one woman's WTF, oops and ah-ha moments of life.

They were published once, and as every writer knows, once is not enough.

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Dreaming of the impossible


Skip the ad and listen to Enigmatic Encounter. The video is weird/interesting/wow, maybe not your thing but creative. Hope the link works.

Enigma/ATB, unthinkably awesome music.

Forty years ago I made out-worldly music, before synthesizers, before electronics, very Moody Blue like. People told me I was ahead of my time. They were God-damned right. If I had stuck with it I would be the old lady of today’s Enigma-like, fantastic sounds and furies.

Amazing how passions pass and then centuries later we revisit what we once dreamed as possible.

New dreams, mixed with reality tempers our future I guess.
What have you dreamed and dropped for a paycheck, a person, or the idea that you were way ahead of your time?


  1. First of all, one of my fave groups is Enigma. Particularly the stuff they put out inthe90's. Like this:


    And Mea Culpa

    Anyway, to answer the question. I suppose writing is what I dropped for a paycheck. However, at that time, I wouldn't have been who I am now. I was impatient. Too wrapped up in other stuff. Not enough living. Not enough pain. Not enough of much. Now seems right - come what may - which is easy to spout when the door is still cracked.

    1. How I discovered Enigma.
      Many years ago my daughter and I were about the third car in line at the drive through at McDonalds. The car behind us, top down, was blasting, and I mean breaking windows, holes in ear drums blasting music, I had never heard before. It rocked my soul. I kept telling my daughter that I had to know who the musicians were. We finally got our food, pulled forward slowly and as the car behind turned the volume down, got his food and also pulled forward I stopped, got out of the car and walked up to him. He thought I was going to rip him a new asshole because of how loud the music was. When I told him I loved it and HAD to know who it was, he reached over, grabbed the tape case, yes it was a cassette, and handed it to me. For me, music has never been the same since.

      I agree, the most important filament for writing, is life.