Since winter, we have had dreadful weather. Not dreadful like tsunamis or tornados or hurricanes or anything of that catastrophe, but more just a dreary gray that seems to linger. The ground is damp. Damp like the pictures of London's streets, but without the charm of those photographs. It is a dampness that seeps into your bones and chills them til your toes have no remembrance of what warmth is. Yet I tend to enjoy it. It brings on a certain melancholy that could do one of two things; make you depressed and wishing for more sadness, or make you dream. I feel it is the latter I am doing tonight.
I am dreaming of music. Playing in a small smokey bar ( we don't have those anymore because of smoking bans, but it adds ambiance to the dream so work with me please ) playing my acoustic with friends, singing songs about love and love lost. Singing songs about the joy I have found. Singing songs that people raise their pints in one accord because they know that what is being sung is from the heart and they feel it and cling to it.
This may all sound like the piano man on acoustic guitar, and I apologize if it does, but the feelings that that song proclaims about the lives of people and why they come to a place like a warm pub on cold night intrigues me. But unlike the piano man, I just long to sit in a pub, with my guitar in my lap, on nights much like tonight, singing songs to people that may touch them and myself.
Does the weather strike chords in you? I am just curious.....