Of Old Rock Songs and Writing At Midnight

Thoughts Of a Self Isolating Writer

Maybe this is an act of defiance. Pushing back against an evil world, where time flies and work is all that matters. Where growth, ROI, KPIs and other Is have defined our world so much so that we feel we’re in a roller coaster. Or maybe this is my perception. But then again, as a 23-year-old writer cum blogger cum statistician cum Korean drama aficionado, I don’t know much.

All I know is that I’m listening to old rock songs more and I did not know how much I missed them.

Rock music where large fields, back roads, old love tales and true music exist. They take me back to days where my only worry was homework, and whether I’d wake up early enough to make it to school in time.

I’m trying to feel more. To fall in love through the music. To feel the heartbreak. To be heartbroken. To take part in the mundane chores of life in a song while participating in some of my own. To feel.

It’s been long since I took out the trash at 9.00 AM, in my pyjamas, while listening to Hoobastank and Creed. It’s been long since I had an afternoon power nap, without worrying about drooling. I want to sleep and drool. I want to sleep and drool in peace.

For a while, the only emotion was being on edge. Nothing excited me. Nothing fazed me. Everything was bland. Now I take refuge in old rock songs, deep-fried cassava for breakfast as I ponder on Dave Chapelle’s words that art will save the world. That was a great Netflix special and God bless him and his family, I think. Kudos to him for winning the Mark Twain Award.

This is the moment before a bean seedling shoots from the ground. It has to push against the hard ground to thrive.

It’s been long since I danced at 3 PM in the afternoon. I take refuge in all the things I’m able to do that would have been impossible to do. Like rambling in front of a Medium editor at 12.00 AM. It makes no sense to continue writing. How do you tell someone to work on anything, improve on anything while they are thinking about surviving?

Is there anyone here? Can they hear me? Maybe not.


Back to Dave Chappelle. In his Mark Twain party, it’s evident he pushed back against lots of things during and after Chappelle Show. He makes me think of my own defiance and acts of it as a writer, artist and a person.

We need more art. We need to pay more for art. We’re using art to quell our boredom and hush our thoughts. Thoughts are the only thing we have at this time. Next to teachers, doctors, and workers in the service area, artists are the most underpaid. Mainly because everyone thinks it’s their right to pieces of art. After all, they too can create it right?

 

social distancing

 

Once upon a time, I would curate art from local artists and look for markets for them. From malls to art galleries, I did it all. To the point of pursuing abstract art as a hobby (I’m thinking about it now). Art is good to look at. Good to guide us in extrapolating our thoughts, good to admire but not good enough to pay for.

Which is why we have artists working in corporate careers. They’re bills to pay. Not to mention that artists get too overprotective of their art. We’re too defiant.


As you read the next article, listen to the next song, think about how art is helping you during this time. Have you ever paid for art? Anyways, you guys know I don’t know much.

This article first appeared in Quarantine

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