There is an invisible weight on my left shoulder. The sensation so omniscient it keeps me sane to read the lyrics and chords to songs as I play and sing. Even ones that I already know. Without something as structured as sheet music in front of me my improvisation is destined to break into tiny shards of shattered crystal. My voice might crack, revealing the terrific sorrow beneath my above-the-fray whispers of devotion. And as for the words ... well really. It used to be that rhyming confined statements to the logic of carefully selected word-endings. Now the state of my once & future rhymes hangs in the balance with everything else attached to an anticipated crossover into The music business. For the last 8 years the separation of the language of love and the language of law has been paramount. Now their blending is a key element in the alchemy this artist longs to create.
The weight on my shoulder says, "OK. You can publish that with a medium ballad tempo to Temple Illuminatus."
It doesn't have to come right out and tell me not to publish any more song lyrics here or to our brother site Esoteric Online. That is all too implicit in the silent weight.
Filed by the right fingers attached to the right wrist and right shoulder! Sanely!
("Editor - get me wewhite!")