Two bits. A Quarter. Thaler. Dahler. Dollar.
I used to love the Styx song, Pieces of Eight. I used to love Styx. Every once in a while I get the urge to listen again. What I loved about them was the words. There always was something pretty cool about their view of the world, their touch of fantasy and realism, and of course, Tommy Shaw was a babe.
Hey, I was 16 – cut me a break.
I’ve always had a thing for words in music. With Rush, it’s always been about the words AND the music (who else could change time 42 times in a song and still make it sound like POETRY!?!) With Styx, it was about the words. Cheap Trick. I know, I’m dating myself, but there it is.
What I was thinking about tonight was the lyrics of Pieces of Eight. And writing erotica. I’ve missed it. I felt like I had a connection there and I have had no time in the past days weeks months years to fulfill that desire. As it were. I miss Sarah, my serialized voyeur. I’ve missed Joey and Spyder, I’ve missed that thrill that comes from putting something terribly sexy down on paper and having to deal with it in “terrible” ways. She smirks. Simply terrible.
I think what I fear, which of course is odd in and of itself, is that I’ve passed it all by. I’m 43 for crissakes! How can it have passed me by? I can still write. And have my business. And do Masonry. The fear comes, I think, from judgment. Will I not be a good person, knowing what I know now about the world, my philosophy, ad infinitum… if I continue to write erotica?
Stupid but true. Me. Who hasn’t really cared what others think and am following my own. Me.
Now that I DO have my own business, I think I’m going to slowly pick up the “pen” again and get this going. I have missed it because it made me feel good to create something beautiful, sexy, and desired. I might even post it here.
If you want me to….