I’ve become such a controlled man with age.

And you know what? It’s good for me, it’s probably saving me from a lot more pain than I have and even from an early death. It’s good for me, to be patient, structured, and controlled.

On the flip side…

Fuck, I can’t let it define me, I can’t let it entrap me!

And so, this small article I’m writing it’s me yielding to the pressure of unquiet waters inside me, that revolve in anger and the despair of ignoring the cosmic paradoxes that it’s often safe to just keep ignoring.

But not today.

Most of my friends are dead

It’s been quite a while since the last time I wrote a blog piece for jjosuminded, I’ve told you about it before, my depression and my hunger for meaning typically lure me out of my habits and especially those that involve communicating the external world. So, as usual, I apologize to my beautiful audience for the lack of content, I wish that you have a great time reading me, but for that to happen I need to have something meaningful to talk about, and that’s what I get from my intense inner explorations in which I embark for weeks.

I gotta say, I’m not in a grim mood currently, I’m OK.

I’m even more OK since yesterday I got to repair my computer; man, my computer is like a dear relative and also like a private chamber that’s comforting and full of my things, the things that make me feel at home. So when it broke, it was a tough time for me; I’m so thankful my wife had the grace of letting me use her’s unrestrictedly, but of course, it’s never the same. Her computer is her tool, and mine is a very private chamber, they signify very different things.

So that makes me feel good, trivial as it might look, mundane if you would but I’ve been through so much chaos and surrounded with so much of the absurd that I claim the right to be childish about this, won’t be ashamed.

But also, I get sad because I think more than it’s safe for a person to think.

I’ve recently discovered Nick Drake, such a talented young man! And he could have been my dad, by no means would he have been a young man today, if it weren’t because he didn’t get to see his 27th birthday. He died before he got to live much and that makes me sad.

And so, I realize most of my friends are dead, and if you’ve read me before you may know that I call friends people who don’t know me, but whose music reverberates with the depths of my soul. Nick Drake is my most recent dead friend.

I came to know him, because of the music of yet another dead friend: Elliot Smith; in my Spotify explorations I found Elliot Smith while exploring more of the alternative 90’s scene, which lead me to his folkish influences and: voilá, Nick Drake.

Please listen to him, he was so unknown and his music was so beautiful and I want more people to know that he existed. I’m overwhelmed by feelings right now, and this is why I can’t provide you with a more “cold-minded” or “technical” review of his music, as I said in the introduction, I’m yielding to my feelings and this is what’s coming out.

My music crisis has led me to meet a young poet, shy, lonely, deep, and beautiful. A beautiful man, probably too beautiful for this world, as most of my dead friends, were.