Recorded Wednesday 13th of August 2025
Author: admin
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In the Evening
In the evening what you have to do:
Accept the reality of what has happened
and move on to the next step.
Put the light switch on, stop this messing around.
Now I feel like I am running—
We all know what it’s worth.
My heart aches, aches with longing,
For what has passed and now I cannot go.
Work fills my consciousness; to switch it off
should be so easy in my work, but we never…
Nothing that is everything, double by four.
Would like to move on to some—
This is personal, set it in a play.
For what has passed and now I cannot go.
My heart aches, aches with longing.
Speed seems to be the essence.
As I hold my head, pressure of it has to part.
Caterpillar to butterfly—
In this thought, in this world.
How much can it take? Watch the people on the bombs.
The punishment with a flick of the switch.
There is a man with talent.
I lost it about then, overtaken.
Get up today in the afternoon—
Lost it about then.
Get up today in the afternoon.
In play format:
Title: The Switch
Character: A solitary figure pacing a sparse, dimly lit room. The atmosphere is electric, time fragmented.
Monologue:
(Lights dim. A soft hum in the background. The figure stands center stage, wrestling with a memory.)
In the evening, you face it.
Reality. Cold, confirmed, inevitable.
And then you move. Not forward—just… to the next step.
You flick the light switch like it means something.
Like illumination will dissolve regret.
I’m running. I don’t know where, but it’s fast.
Everyone knows what it’s worth—
Whatever it is.
(Pause. A breath.)
My heart aches.
Not in the poetic way. In the gritty way.
A longing that scrapes bone.
What’s passed is locked. No way back.
Work takes over.
It should be easy—I’m good at what I do.
But “easy” is a word we’ve misplaced.
(Steps forward.)
Everything doubled, multiplied by silence.
I want to move. Somewhere new.
Maybe this is a play—maybe I am the playwright.
And still…
My heart aches.
Same refrain. Same truth.
Speed. That’s how we survive now.
The pressure, the shift.
Caterpillar to butterfly, sure—
But what if the wings rip on the way out?
Bombs drop in a world that doesn’t blink.
Punishment comes with a flick of a switch.
Talent unnoticed.
I was overtaken.
A moment. A blur.
Got up in the afternoon and the day was already gone.
(Lights fade to black.)
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Finding Your Groove Again: A Journey Back to the Stage
Returning to the stage after a long break—especially one caused by illness—can be daunting. The muscle memory that once guided your fingers or voice effortlessly may feel a little rusty, and the pressure to perform well can cloud the joy of simply creating and sharing music.
But here’s the truth: every artist, no matter how seasoned, faces moments of uncertainty. A shaky performance doesn’t define your talent or passion—it simply marks a moment in time, a step in the process of reawakening the performer within.
I recently stepped back onto the stage at the guild after a long hiatus, eager to share my new songs with the world. The excitement was there, but under the weight of pressure, my mind almost went blank. It was frustrating, a great pity, because these new songs mean so much to me.
Rather than dwelling on disappointment, I’ve chosen to embrace the path forward. I’ll be doing open mic nights, easing back into the rhythm, feeling out the energy of a live audience again. With each performance, confidence will return, and the music will flow as freely as it once did.
For anyone who’s finding their way back to their craft after time away—remember, it’s a process. Give yourself grace. Celebrate the courage it takes to stand back up, pick up your instrument, step onto the stage.
Stay tuned—I’ll be posting a live video version of my newest song soon. This journey is just beginning, and I can’t wait to share every step with you.
