Music Uncategorized

Brika – Sorry

I know you know that I made those mistakes maybe once or twice
By once or twice I mean maybe a couple a hundred times”

I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about today. I woke up feeling like a large part of me was missing, or like I was missing a large part of me. I went to lunch with Jordan and even tried to justify that particular feeling as some scientific hum that only a big city like New York could have. You know, something like: “the natural pulse that all big cities across the world produce”. The sound that emanates from the bowel of those very streets that in itself encapsulates every other sound that occurs. The vibrations of the train tunnels caused by all the people, pipes, steel and other noises down there mixed with all the ambient music playing outside. Cars passing one another over the Brooklyn Bridge heading East and West. The laughter, yells, cries and giggles of all the people just living life. The brisk whistles of the frigid wind over the Hudson and onto desolate Battery Park piers. Sure, I miss all of that, but the only thing missing from me today isn’t here because I’m on my millionth fuck up, somehow…

I like Brika. There’s a part of her vocals that pulls me in close and makes me feel safe. It makes me feel like everything is going to be ok. Like there’s hope. In fact, that’s probably why I love her vocals, because I can hear the hope in them. The part of us all that truly believes that our dreams are going to happen and that our wishes will come true. It’s just familiar to me—like home.

There’s a part of me that’s really sad today without the way my life was, not more than two weeks ago. It wasn’t roses and rainbows all day, but it was still a beautiful one. Who would have thought that closing one door behind me would change my life so drastically in just a couple of weeks? I certainly didn’t.

I waited all day to see if something would happen that would spark something inside of me to write today. Here I am on Jordan’s balcony in North Hollywood, facing beautiful kitchens in the shadows of the night sky. Below me a baby blue pool and jacuzzi, above me heaven with all its brightest stars. Just sitting, thinking—wondering if maybe I will have that old life back again someday. Wondering if those things that feel like tiny fragments of sand escaping my fingertips right now will ever be solid states at the grasp of my will, again.

If I could only have seen the future, somehow, I would have never left that morning. I would have stayed behind with what matters to me the most. And then, right now, I wouldn’t be sitting on this balcony by myself in the dark wondering if I will get that imperfectly beautiful life back.

Is it too late to say that I’m sorry?”