kompo

I am still in awe at how the creative juice can sometimes just flow out of you so effortlessly and as natural as an orgasmic release. Boys and girls, I’m not talking about sex ayt?

Sometime in the first couple of days of last January, I created one whole song in 30 minutes. It has 3 verses, a chorus that is repeated about four or five times, and a trying-to-be-cute of an interlude. This is a personal record. That was the shortest time it took me to create a whole song, complete with lyrics and melody. And it’s even one of the best I ever made.

A couple of hours ago, my third creation for the year 2006 found its way through my guitar strings and vocal chords, or whatever is left of it. This one took me more than a couple of hours. That’s well within the usual time it takes me to finish a song—two to four hours.

I was prying at my blog entries, unconsciously internalizing the thoughts and feelings that ran through me when I wrote them. Then came the sudden queer feeling that something is amiss.

For an infinitely ephemeral moment, everything stands still.

Then comes the itch, an itch that emanates from the deepest recesses of my being. An onslaught of creative inspiration permeates my consciousness.

In a snap of a finger, I was a biological entity beaming with mercurial ardor waiting to be expressed. I, once again, elevated my place in the hierarchy of God’s creations. As a creature that has the ability to capture a once meandering mute tune in the ghostly air, I was more than human, almost divine.

I had to abandon all my plans this afternoon. It’s like a duty to fulfill, a gift that has to be used when the opportunity comes.

The arrival of the itch is almost like the appearance of and angel. God’s messenger.

In its presence, you have to abandon everything and let the rapturous inspiration enter your mind and heart.

When the itch comes, you have to let it rule you.

The song is entitled Taken. Generally falling under the Folk music genre, Taken has the warmth of James Taylor songs in the seventies. It sounds like an inferior version of John Mayer’s Daughters.

Inferior to any song or not, I still like it. I like my own songs like they’re my children. I’m as loyal to them as they are loyal to me. Each one has a history, a meaning, a memory in my journey through this drama we call life.

These amorphous melodic creations give me solace, refuge, sanctuary. Ours is a relationship built on an endless tapestry of serenades. Sounds good eh.