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Crazy Heart

June 25, 2010

Watched the Jeff Bridges movie Crazy Heart tonight. All I know is that I fell in love with the sad, rhythmic, musical, loving and beautifully acted thing from the start. I kept thinking – “I wonder how many people are out there, alone, playing music every night in a new little place, with a backup band of strangers  just keeping the beats like this?” Got me back to writing new stuff afterwards. New musical stuff with my favorite writing  words like dance and rhythm and melody and grace and so I finished the whiskey and I wrote long, winding sentences like…“Whiskey in the glass looks like golden sunlight, a sunrise of potential, exposed under the dim lamp of a sad room in a house where music slips through the cracks in the walls like cold air in January and I know there’s got to be some reason I’m awake, here in a chair staring at the floor, tending to wish it would open up and flood my feet with fire or strangling hands or even just a new rug with a new pattern for a new perspective.” 

 That movie was exactly what I needed for the slacker-writer inside of me. Great movie. Great music. Great acting. Great writing. I wrote a bunch tonight and looking back, it looks like this story is pretty grim. But at least I am writing. And what did you expect after watching a movie like I discovered tonight? Whiskey-soaked great old country music and regretful choices and dreams and the hope of love somewhere in there all along. Thinking back, that’s not so far off from what my stories are usually always about anyway.

There’s nothing like a good night of writing.

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