This post originally appeared on my previous site, ipanemic.com

(I advise clicking the play button on the first video at this point. It makes for nice background music. Oooh. Neat idea!)
For a variety of reasons, I share the following:

5 minutes and 24 seconds in: Bliss. Utter bliss.

I stood in this sun-sheltered place,
‘Til I could see the face behind the face,
All that have gone before had left no trace.

Down by the railway siding,
In our secret world, we were colliding,
All the places we were hiding love,
What was it we were thinking of?

So I watch you wash your hair,
Underwater, unaware,
And the plane flies through the air.

Did you think you didn’t have to choose it?
That I alone could win or lose it?
In all the places we were hiding love,
What was it we were thinking of?

In this house of make believe,
Divided in two, like Adam and Eve,
You put out and I receive.

Down by the railway siding,
In our secret world, we were colliding,
In all the places we were hiding love,
What was it we were thinking of?

Oh the wheel is turning spinning round and round,
And the house is crumbling but the stairway stands.

With no guilt and no shame, no sorrow or blame,
Whatever it is, we are all the same.

Making it up in our secret world,
Making it up in our secret world,
Making it up in our secret world,
Shaking it up,
Breaking it up,
Making it up in our secret world.

Seeing things that were not there,
On a wing on a prayer,
In this state of disrepair.

Down by the railway siding,
In our secret world, we were colliding,
In all the places we were hiding love,
What was it we were thinking of?

Shh, listen…

-Peter Gabriel, Secret World

I’ve always loved Peter Gabriel’s music. I’ve always admired what he chose to do with music and the avenues he traveled. I’ve always enjoyed the sounds that he pulls together. I’ve always listened in astonishment at how he winds together such wonderfully somber lyrics with such musical clarity. I’ve always enjoyed the fun little journeys my mind would take listening to his music.

This song in particular always plays. And with every shift in my life, what I hear within it shifts as well, fitting to my world as it is or in some reflective state of melancholy. (Blech. Kill me now: I used melancholy in a sentence. I hate me for writing it as much as I feel sorry for you reading it.)

5 minutes and 24 seconds in: Bliss. Utter bliss.

In a more relevant note, because these are the things that plague me daily. The things that I try to bury anytime during the waking moments and when I sleep…
In the early 1990s, I was probably peaking with my Peter Gabriel fandom. At the time, my children were small. I remember living in an older, established neighborhood in the downtown area of a southern city. At the time, the kids were in some sort of day care run by an old neighborhood church, buried between magnolia trees. The smell of old money, ham sandwiches, plastic toys (well fingerprinted), and children’s pee.

There was one Peter Gabriel song at the time that Alec and Zach used to love: Kiss that Frog. At the time, Alec and Zach were between the ages of 2 and 5. 🙂

There’s no point in explaining it. The child and the adult hear two different things. Of all the many ways in which I filled my kids heads with absurdities, this one, I don’t believe ever really stuck. They only liked it for a while and I think they ended up forgetting it.

But I remember it. I remember that moment. We’re in the car, Alec, Zach, and I. The three amigos, and we’re singing it at the top of our lungs in the car together. Kiss that frog.

Jewish Counseling Services don’t have support groups for people in my place. I have a few friends who have lost children. They are all very far away. But it’s okay.

Alec was my son. I knew him. I knew him so well. And we both felt that most parents and children didn’t have the kind of relationship we had. I knew what he would say before he would say it. We would talk about it. We were like 13 year old BFFs like that. We had respect for each other. Love. And I had an undeniable and unmistakable influence on the person he became. And he inspired me so much. We loved each other tremendously. Just as Zach and I do only differently.

For Christmas this year, I bought Alec the book Gonzo, The Life of Hunter. S. Thompson. After Alec was buried, I stopped by his mom’s house to go through his stuff. The book was lying on the coffee table. I asked for it.

It’s sitting beside me as I type. I read bits and pieces, what I can at any given time. I already know the story.

Somewhere back in normal land, I’m trying to take photographs. I’ve posted a few. I have tons to go through. And then I have the new and later stuff. Sheesh, it’s a lot.

Important Religious Update: I’m not Jewish. (You know, the whole contacting Jewish Counseling/Community Services thing?) Ginger had a friend recommend them. She had a pamphlet. Actually, I was really interested in their Meals on Wheels program. Then I learned you had to be old or something. And they wouldn’t actually feed you, either; you have to do it yourself. Eh. Dreaming big has gotten me nowhere.

About the Author

Hello, I'm Scott. I take photos. Do things. Whatnot. Mixed Digital Media Artist.

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