Aidan – As Long As I Close My Eyes, I’m By Myself

Aidan – As Long As I Close My Eyes, I’m By Myself – Album Review

I’m gonna take a different approach to this review.  It’s not every day that an artist like Aidan comes along, though we do see the guy more often than more I suppose…relentlessly creative & restless soul that he is.  I’ve reviewed several records from Aidan over the past couple years or so, and from what he’s let me know behind the scenes, this new album As Long As I Close My Eyes, I’m By Myself is somewhat of an extension of one of his last records called Catharsis…similar recording methods and the moody & melodic ambient atmospheres we’ve come to know & love from this innovative musician.  These are things we know to be true about Aidan, about this album – what I mean by it not being every day that an artist like him coming along is that you’ll rarely find one so willing to reach into the abyss and into the beyond to create really exceptional art.  If you’re a fan of post-rock or ambient music, Aidan’s been a reliable source for years now…and with no signs of slowing down, I’m sure there’s much more to come.

But this.  I’m gonna have to check my rulebook on this one – is this skirting the system here?  Aidan’s pretty much compiled eight ALBUMS onto one record here; you can call them songs if you want to – but we’re talking about the shortest being 8:45 and the longest being nearly FORTY-SIX minutes in length – the entire record spans out to nearly three hours…and I ain’t gonna lie, that can be a gigantic ask of any listener out there, no matter how big the fan or in the mood you are.  Think of it this way…and keep in mind your life is likely a lot different than mine, but perhaps not in many ways as well – what I’m saying is, how often can you go through three hours of your day without an interruption from…something?  Who knows what?  And that don’t even matter once it’s happened anyway.  Point being, you gotta have some real time to put into a record like this to listen to it, otherwise it becomes that background stuff people always tend to accuse ambient of being and they’ll do homework or even watch YouTube clips while it’s playing in the background.  Trust me…I’ve seen these kinds of horrific offenses happen with my own two eyes.  So no lies…you know I’m always upfront…this is definitely an ambitious record; what makes Aidan continually worth listening to, no matter how long the song, is that nothing ever seems to feel self-indulgent or pretentious…which is honestly quite unique in music that spans such impressive lengths.  The emotion is always real and audibly tangible…you can feel Aidan’s music and I’ve always really admired that; if you’re a fan, you get a whole lot more of a great thing on his new album.

All of this being said…if you want three hours of my time…and multiple spins through a record, so let’s say I had the chance to spin it 7 or 8 times over this week or so – that’s a DAY Aidan…that’s a full DAY dude.  So welcome to my world here…you best believe we’re playing by my rules now that it’s time to write about it.  Ain’t sayin’ I’m not happy with the results – I actually think this is decidedly some of Aidan’s best, which in itself is a genuine achievement because these songs are ENORMOUS – so believe me, I’m just teasin’ the guy for making such massive material – I ultimately think it’s super rad that he’s created and attempted something as extraordinary as this is.  Let that be clear.  And I also think that music as emotionally powerful as he tends to create, no matter how subtle, always makes an impact and has a unique way of inspiring the atmosphere around it.  Perhaps that’s why it IS okay to bust out the homework or draw or create something of your own, whatever it might be, while you’re listening to these tunes in the background…because you get that uplifting & soul-soothing mix of inspiration in listening to Aidan’s music – isn’t that really the ultimate compliment to an artist’s work – to be inspired by it?  He’s done an exceptional job again on As Long As I Close My Eyes, I’m By Myself – and we’re going to test this inspirational theory today like never before, firsthand, right here.   Because I’ve written about Aidan plenty…ultimately, he knows my opinion of his music and that I love the ideas he’s got.  I gotta keep things fresh for the guy, just like I do for you – and what better way to prove that art-inspires-art by proving it directly if I can?  So let me tell you a story…whether or not it’ll make any damn sense, I have no idea…but I’ll write this in real-time for ya, inspired by the music I’m listening to on Aidan’s album & hopefully it comes out like that whole Alice In Wonderland & Pink Floyd thing where you take “The Wall” and sync it up…maybe you’ll be able to read this entire tale in time with the record.

Here goes…

I open my eyes.  I feel like I’ve been here before somehow.  Maybe that’s a given…it’s my bed, it’s my “Home,” it’s where I live and wake up every morning, but as I stare at the wall across from me, it seems like it’s more than that…like I’ve lived this moment before.  There’s a comfort there that I can I can recognize somehow…maybe it’s always been there, maybe it comes from inside me – I don’t know if I even really know.  Even these questions running through my mind feel like I’ve asked them to myself before…perhaps in a dream, or maybe in another life…

I don’t really know what life is about or what it’s supposed to be.  I get up each day with the intention of rising to a greater purpose, to somehow find that moment that defines me.  Every day that passes where it doesn’t is what slowly kills me…and with each passing day, the possibility of ever finding it at all narrows dangerously.  What if it’s worse than that?  What if I’ve already missed my moment and I’m floating in the aftermath forever more?  Is that what “Home” is?  Is it the place where you live or is it the place where you belong?

You see I struggle with all this, because I’ve never had a real “Home” myself.  I don’t really go into it all anymore…I’m just quiet now.  Best I can say is that I was raised in several places and spaces that kept the rain from falling onto my face at night – but the love you’d typically find in a “Home” was strange if present at all.  Yet somehow now as an adult, I still miss it…somehow it all still matters.  When I close my eyes, I can still go back there and picture every last detail of where I had my posters on the wall, where I had my stereo…my escape from reality as early as eight years old when I got my first ghettoblaster.  That was where the real learning started…and from that moment on, I suppose wherever I had my music, that was where I called “Home.”  I’ve packed & unpacked so many boxes of so many meaningless things that I’m truly embarrassed to even say how many times I’ve moved.  No matter where I go, I take that with me…that uncomfortable, unsettled, uneasy feeling that I don’t belong wherever I’m at.  Even now, as I stare at the wall from my bed, I’m confused as to how I got here, or why I’d stay.

I often imagine that there’s another version of me out there somewhere that’s made different choices.  Maybe a ‘me’ that knows what a stable “Home” could actually be like.  And maybe in that life I’ve got the things in my head sorted out a whole lot better.  Maybe I exist in a totally different light where all the awkwardness I pretend to embrace is actually the asset I wished it was.  Or maybe none of that’s a thing at all.  Maybe this is it.  Maybe this is all I’ve got…memories and wishful thinking.  I wonder why it all feels so familiar.  Is it just because I’m recognizing a pattern of a similar thought process as opposed to actually understanding what these thoughts actually are?  What would life be like if we never opened our eyes…is being blind an extension of being a consciousness?  Does that feel like the next step after whatever this is?  I wonder.  Maybe I’ll always wonder.  Maybe that’s all there is.

With my “Eyes Closed,” maybe I’d see more than there is to see here.  Maybe as a conscious being with no need for a physical form, it would just be like exchanging thoughts and emotions and having our feelings ping off each other…but we’d be left with what’s real…we wouldn’t have to fear judgment or grow up being picked on at lunch-hour on the playground.  We would just be…nothing more, nothing less…floating the universe and looking to connect.  I don’t mind the blackness at all with my “Eyes Closed,” I actually quite like it…I can disappear into a clarity here that you couldn’t possibly reach with all the corporate advertisements and reality shows, city streets and honking cars invading your day.  They’re all still out there I know…I’m sure the streets outside my window are as busy as ever…but with my “Eyes Closed” it’s like my ears close off as well.  I can forget what’s happening outside and retreat within to a place I can’t find in the world I live in.

All of these thoughts are mere distractions from what’s really wrong I suppose.  It’s 6:30pm and I haven’t left the bed all day long…and now it’s getting dark outside again.  I’ve laid here awake and watched the sun rise and fall, trapped in a paralyzed state of self-reflection that’s all too narcissistic to value.  The world isn’t about me.  There’s so much more out there than whatever tiny problems I have with it.  The balance when it comes to the scales of the world will always teem with the good over whatever we find fault in.  Those faults are insignificant to the vast amount of beauty and wonder that the world contains.  It makes me sad to think about it, even with that concept being as beautiful as it is; it’s still a reminder at the same time that I’ll never get to experience even close to a fifth of its geography, step foot in every continent, shake hands with every person.  Or maybe I will.  Maybe that’s why this all seems so familiar when my mind turns to thoughts like these with my “Eyes Closed” – maybe I’ve already lived through all these things somehow and it’s just like collecting pieces of a puzzle.  Maybe we do meet everyone and experience everything, ultimately, by the end, if there even is one.

Is it wrong to take some satisfaction from that?  Is it unrealistic to assume that maybe by being so incomplete, that it represents our being the fragments of a whole so much larger than any one lifetime?  Maybe that’s me trying to justify my existence for whatever small contribution I’m making.  And I wish that someone could simply tell me what that was.  What contribution am I making?  How have I validated the time I’ve spent here, what impact have I made?  Would life be the fucking same if I was just gone?  How can you spend more than a year on this planet with some cognitive function and not understand that YES…life would just carry on.  At best maybe I’ll become a footnote in a book somewhere…and supposing the future even has books anymore, maybe someone would stumble across it one day for whatever I’d achieved.  But maybe this is all more wishful thinking…there’s a good chance that there’s simply nothing at all.  No defining moment, no curveball in life that will change the course of history…just average.  The same.  Another ant running around the farm.  Even ants do something productive and I’m still here in bed unwilling or unable to move, I don’t even know which.  What’s worse is I don’t even care enough to sort all that out…I’m just here existing in the moment I’m in, breathing in and out, and right now, I’m considering that to be success.  At my lowest, I don’t understand why I’m here at all…at my best, I just ignore the fact that I don’t understand why I’m here at all.  That’s why things seem so much better with my “Eyes Closed” – because I’m everywhere and nowhere at all.

I won’t lie, I hear voices sometimes.  I also think that’s okay with me.  I don’t feel like they’ve ever been anything other than comforting guides that have subtly whispered their wisdom through the wind where only those closely paying attention can hear it.  If that’s what makes me crazy, then so be it.  It’s more real to me than religion…I can’t imagine only talking to one person; I talk to many.  I’m not a medium…it’s nothing like that.  I’m a fully sane person willing to talk to the nothingness surrounding me in some weird hope that something one day reaches back through the void somehow.  Maybe that happens…maybe it doesn’t; I don’t make the “Conscious” effort to try and reach them, nor do I think they do the same…it just happens when it happens.  I bet if you were to admit it, you’d have to say that it happens to you as well…like when you think of your memories and how they all blend and swirl together as you remember the voices, people, and places you experienced.  It all comes with its own narrative…and if that’s what you want to call ‘voices’ – then again, I talk to many.  I’m more than willing to dive deep in the past at any time if it helps me avoid the present.  It’s finite.  It’s done.  It’s over.  It is what it is and it cannot be changed – it’s concrete; the future still has so many variables we can’t foresee.  There’s something comforting about that…which might be the effect of how we distort our memories over time, eventually dissolving what actually was into the version of our own narrative that suits our story best.  In which case, what have we experienced at all?  Have we experienced anything other than the stories in our mind?  What the hell is “Conscious”ness  anyway?  Is it important?  Or is it just entertainment?  Most importantly…is it something that can carry on wherever we might go next?  If it’s not – then what is the point of anything?  Why build a puzzle if not to see the full picture?  Why gather anything if not to collect the whole set?  If we can’t take a single thought with us from one life to the next, or if there’s nothing at all – then why spend any time thinking them at all?  Why wouldn’t we just experience and experience and experience and never spend a second examining anything that we went through, because there’d be no point in learning from it, no way to evolve?

It has to be why things feel so familiar.  Some sort of “Conscious” thought has to transfer somehow.  It’s the same reason why I don’t believe in psychics…they’re not ‘seeing’ the future, they’re recalling a memory…they got lucky and were somehow able to tap into past experiences that somehow intersected with something we need to know, that’s it, that’s all.  No magic crystal balls.  Just somehow able to break that barrier between the reality we know and the one we don’t.  Each morning when I get up and stare at the wall across from me, I question which one I’m in or if I’ve morphed into the next one, and I wonder if I’d ever even know if I did.  There’s a whole “Broken Ocean” of experiences out there where we feel like we know something but at the same time it’s strange…like you’d expect a wave of comfort but what you think you know is unfamiliar.  And I suppose that’s what all these thoughts in my head are like…the tightrope between what is and isn’t familiar to me…and the question of why that is.  I get these flashes of what feels like something I know only to have it yanked away from me before I can understand, like waking from a dream.  Intangible thoughts that I can’t grasp onto that beckon me to think them, but never long enough to actually see what I’m seeing.  Like a veiled mist of emotion that shrouds each feeling, but not strong enough to identify it.  Is this the mystery of life?  Why spend any time thinking about anything that can’t be changed?  How would I live my life any different if I did know all the answers?  Same “Broken Ocean” ain’t it?  It’s never going to be calm and easy to navigate…even if the rat knows the cheese is in the maze, it doesn’t make the journey to get there any less difficult, right?  I wish I knew why I was so sad all the time or that I could make some sense of all these thoughts.

Never been my strong suit though.  I’ve taken on the role of an empath ever since I can remember.  I absorb the pain of others and listen to their stories and rarely have to deal with myself as long as I’m doing so.  Sometimes that can wear me out…maybe that’s why I’m here in this bed right now still at this time of day.  I don’t ever feel like that’s something I’ve minded…I’ve often felt a responsibility to do so…to somehow relieve the burdens of my friends and family by listening and taking their pain away, if only for a moment.  And to this very day, I’ve hardly revealed a single detail of my own story…because that’s how long the lineup I service really is.  That’s how many crazy souls are on this planet and what a “Broken Ocean” this place can be…we’re all fucked up…we all need someone to listen.  And so I do the best I can, daily, to fill that void, to be that person who listens…and I go and I go and I go and I go, until I just can’t anymore.  Collapsing under the weight, I crawl into the safety of my bed to hibernate & reset.  But that’s not the only reason I’m here.  I could blame it on everyone else, but deep down I’d know I was lying.  I’m here because I’ve chosen to be here…it’s the only way that I can feel like I’m doing anything at all.  If I can’t do something for myself that’ll move the needle and get me excited about living life – then maybe I can somehow make a difference in others.  Seems like an extremely lofty and foolish goal when almost everything that we do as humans is based on actual relevant experience.  If I can’t make myself happy, then how could I make anyone else happy?  Yet somehow…it’s happened.

I remember feeling like I woke up this way before.  I’ve been in bed so long that I don’t know if I keep drifting off into sleep of if I’m switching between lives in the multi-verse and waking up somewhere completely different every time.  It’s amazing to me that the white wall in front of my eyes can become such a brilliant & colorful canvas for my imagination that if I stare at it long enough, it can become whatever I’m thinking about or reveal a picture like a magic-eye poster.  In it I see happiness, I see memories of things I’ve experienced, sunny days on beaches, wine & poetry, and love so undescribable it can well my eyes with tears just thinking about how fleeting each and every moment can be, yet our minds can hang onto them forever and decorate the halls of our thoughts evermore.  I can always spare a few tears for the beautiful, I’m always willing to ‘go there’ and contribute to a “Broken Ocean” of emotions that can never be made whole, only observed as if from afar, even if they’re truly my own.

Suppose I just stayed there one day.  Is that what it’s like to be catatonic or in a coma?  Maybe there’s some happiness to be found in those circumstances that we couldn’t possibly understand…maybe that’s the consciousness leaving the body for a while to go inhabit one of the other potential yous.  As much as I can’t imagine being trapped in any one thought for the rest of time would be ideal – maybe there are some that are?  Think of that first kiss…think of that first major achievement…think of that feeling of being alive – and savor it.  Maybe it’s the fact that we can revisit all these things in our mind that makes it so worth sticking around for what’s next.  And one day – it’ll all be gone.

For me, that’s already started.  I know there are more than my fair share’s worth of memories that are being slowly deleted from my mind by the day…and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.  I can slow it down sometimes…that’s why I don’t mind floating in this “Broken Ocean” of my own thoughts…re-living the memories and moments I’ve had keep some of them intact and preserved strongly enough to revisit them again if I’m lucky.  That’s the thing about a memory…you never know if it’s the last time you’re  having it.  Oddly enough, again, there’s some strange mercy and odd comfort in that.  When it’s gone, it’s gone, and you’d never know otherwise; I can only hope that it makes us appreciate the ones we still have even more.

I’ve seen and witnessed the fact that one person can make a difference in this world, both good & bad.  I don’t know which of these two categories I fall into or if that would ever even matter.  I like to think I’m good at the very core – but at the same time, “On The Way” to being the person I am now, I’ve hurt so many people and fucked up so many times.  I’m not saying that makes me different, I’m not saying that makes me special or unique or any of that BS – I’m simply stating facts of real experience.  Life is not all good, all the time; it can force you into a corner and make you question what you’re made of in all kind of cruel ways.  Maybe that’s the way it should be.  I’ve certainly witnessed many people that are able to turn it all off or maybe never even turned themselves on at all to begin with – they’re never sad, they’re never self-reflective, moody, or substantial either…they’re just like parts of a program in the Matrix of life that never add to yours.  The ones that we do connect with, run into, and touch in our lifetimes – those are the ones that matter…that’s where you find out what you’re really made of.  When I think of all the people I’ve loved & lost along the way, I can’t help but think I could have done it all better somehow…offered more of myself, taken in more of others…there were so many opportunities “On The Way” from the beginning to end to make life better than it was for all involved…and I didn’t always do that.  And when that’s your experience here on earth – how does one forgive themselves?  There are no do-overs…there’s no chance to really make things right – things are what they are and always will be.

We’re all “Bottled Up” and need to find a creative outlet that matters…a way to express ourselves individually that satisfies and makes the time that’s passing less insufferable.  I think half the battle of living life is finding that path…and I think many of us never do.  I think many of us stay “Bottled Up” – perhaps until that next lifetime, again, if there is one.  But call it breaking out of your shell, coming into your own, finding your voice, blah, blah, blah…it’s all the same way of saying that you’ve found your way out of being “Bottled Up” and you’ve reached that all-important next-level where you can make the most of your time here on earth.  Whether it’s art, whether it’s shoveling dirt – it doesn’t matter – do it with passion, do it with care, do it with love – or don’t do it all.  Every moment we have is a precious gift and we don’t really get all that many of’em; we remember even less of those, and less of what remains as time goes on.  The more ‘you’ that you put into what you do, the more you’ll get out of it…the more of a chance it’ll stick in your brain and become part of that valuable catalog of thoughts you can recall and reflect upon any time you want to.  Because that’s the real gift right there…it’s both the moment itself and the ripple effect it’ll have as you remember it over time.  Until one day you just don’t.  Maybe it becomes static, maybe it becomes noise, maybe it becomes silent, maybe nothing happens at all.  I can only imagine that a lifetime spent in reverse would be the worst tragedy…to go from being so open to being “Bottled Up” again.  I suppose I probably shouldn’t think too much about that from here in bed.

I can admit it, I’m “Bottled Up” when it comes to comparing what I’ve achieved to the potential that can be claimed in one lifetime…I’ve still got a long way to go to open-up to the world.  By the time I got around to feeling like I could start that process, I started to feel it all slipping away.  Much like that puzzle, the full complete picture now had holes in it…and it was like I could hear the pieces falling.  Maybe I’d become so “Saturated” with experience that I had begun to push out the old ones to make room for the new.  Maybe I was coming unglued for the first time.  There’s no real way of knowing.

I must have drifted off again…I feel like I just woke up here.  I remember talking to you just like it was a moment ago, but maybe it’s been minutes, maybe it’s been hours?  It’s still dark.  I can still see the wall in front of me, my blank canvas of time-traveling memories and nostalgia.  I remember thinking about how we need to hold on to those things or they might go away forever…and I remember thinking that it’s not even possible in the end.  This time it’s different.  This time there’s a peace in that.  There’s a clarity that was missing that tells me it’s okay to be the smallest blip on the map of life and that the tiny sliver of experience and knowledge gained will somehow be passed on.  Like being enveloped in a warm sound or surrounded by warm water, revitalized and refreshed from the comfort extended…given the ability to simply exist and having that be enough.  Maybe that’s all there is to it.  Maybe it’s about relaxing and just chilling out long enough to let that finally happen.  Maybe this is that breakthrough I need.  Maybe it’s just the medication kicking in.  I still feel like me…I’m still thinking my own thoughts, but it’s like I’m adrift on autopilot somehow…just lost and floating in space.  My mind is an endless reel of past highlights and achievements that flicker quickly from shot to shot before I can fully focus in on them.  I’m “Saturated” with a lifetime’s worth of memories that I can escape from nor view long enough to remember…I can only see that I’ve had them.  Time gets fuzzy sometimes.  It’s like a texture you can’t touch but you can still feel…I remember doing these things I see, I remember the faces, but I can’t recall anything with any kind of detail now.  They’re all photographs of things I experienced that show the moment but not what made it matter – I miss the things that matter.  I’m so tired of being sad when all the things inside me are built of good things, strong things, passionate, creative, and innovative things.  I’m still much too young to find myself so separated from the person I am & the person I always wished I was…yet now I’m old enough to notice the breakdown…I’m aware enough still to feel the difference in me…I’m beyond repair and in the decline without the ability to change my course.  Maybe.

Maybe as “Saturated” as my mind has become, maybe there’s still hope, however small it might be.  Maybe there’s a way to bend the wires back so that this machine runs at full speed again one day.  Maybe this is once again, just wishful thinking.  The clock cannot be turned back and every day I have to fight to rebel against the inevitable, I have to build a wall around the memories I have left in order to keep them.  I have to share these stories with others, so that maybe somehow, I’ll continue to live on long after I’m gone…and someone out there will remember me.  Because we all want that, deep down.  We want that ability to make an impact on people so strong that we couldn’t possibly be forgotten, and yet most of us will be.  From one generation to the next, the footnote that we are becomes smaller and smaller until we’re no longer at all…and then what?  Were we ever really here at all?  When history is “Saturated” with so many millions of souls on one planet from one year to the next, growing and expanding at all times, how do we all not get lost?  Is there any true possibility of standing out bright enough compared to all the other beautiful lights in this world and burn brighter?  We have to learn to be comfortable with being everything and nothing…we are all one and the same.

Silence.  A moment of clarity in my own head.  I’m sure you can tell from all this rambling that I can go on about all kind of craziness for lengths of time, but it’s nice to get a break from being so “Saturated” with my own inner-voice all the time.  I have to apologize because I’m sure I must have circled around the same point for so long and still not made everything fully clear.  You’re not really here.  I mean, I’m talking to you as if you were, but you’re not.  I’m not either.  We’re all ghosts and reflections of light from millions of stars burning long ago…I’m the whisper in your head just as much as I am in my own.  I don’t know what your thoughts are like, but I know what it’s like to imagine what your thoughts might be like, so from the only experience I have to go on, this is what becomes the truth I know.  I wish we talked more.  Maybe that would have changed this.  I have to believe it’s the same for every person though – that all we know is what we believe or assume…what we project and what we consume – we’re the images we present physically and mentally…we’re just shadows in our own eternities.  A continual reflection of choices being made in a never-ending maze that may or may-not have anything at all to do with us having a soul or worthwhile existence – how crazy is that?  It makes a person want to stay in bed all day rather than take the endless journey to discover whether it all is or isn’t true.  I’m sorry…I might have drifted away from the point I was trying to make…it’s just that it’s been so long since we’ve talked hasn’t it?  Feels like it could have been days or hours or maybe months even.  Has it been?

If I close my eyes for just a bit, I can see things even more clearly than when I stare at my blank canvas wall.  The colors seem more “Saturated,” more vivid, more real.  Everything is more real.  You’re more real.  I mean, it’s not like you’ve been there the whole time physically or anything like that anyway.  You’re a memory.  You’re a ghost like me.  But when my eyes are closed, it’s like everything is back to normal for a moment, like there’s no need to sort out where things are or aren’t in the endless timeline of my life…I just exist, and so do you.  It’s the most curious thing…so strange that behind the curtain could be so much clearer…but when I’m not focused on the cage surrounding me, the trap of our everyday lives, there’s a freedom that can be attained.  A place that can’t be held physically, but that the mind can come & go freely from…a place where I just exist, and so do you.  So no, I never mind the darkness…because there’s always been a light that can guide me home that I can see even with my eyes closed…and that light has and always will be you.  I know you’re not there…I know you’re not here…you’re everywhere and nowhere at the same time, just like I am.  We are one, we are the same.  We are the conscious souls in a broken ocean full of tears on the way to being bottled up and sold for the “Saturated” purity of our creative thoughts and passions…the essence of what make us special.

While all this may appear like a “Depression Session” on the outside, I can assure you it’s not.  This is a tale of unity, of light in the darkness, of hope and human experience…of possibility.  For when one story ends, another surely begins…another chapter can and will occur…because life always carries on, regardless of whether we’re ‘here’ for it or not.  We’re all ghosts…we’re all everywhere and nowhere and at the exact same time.  And if you get really good at life, you’ll find a way to accept all that before you go.  I’m still working on all that.  I’m still going through the occasional “Depression Session” and grappling with the fact that I’ll have to let some of the best people I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing go as their faces fade with time.  I’m still struggling with the idea that we all have no real idea of what we’re doing here and just have theories.  As much as I might believe everything I’ve experienced is all related somehow, what if it’s nothing more than a petri-dish nightmare in an Easy-bake oven, bubbling and boiling and creating the occasional morsel of memorability, but way more random and far less involved than anyone would ever like to think?  At the very least, it always changes just enough to make each moment more worth it than the last…and even if the current memory and moment is all we got, it’s still more than worth the climb to get to the top, if only to get a quick glimpse of the other side before it’s all over.  Maybe this is a “Depression Session.”  Maybe it’s not.  Maybe it’s both.

What I know is that I enjoy the time we spend together and treasure it for all its worth.  Whether you’re a voice in my head or part of my spirit, a piece of the soul or the call of a memory, there’s a poetry in your mission and message that I can receive with open arms every time.  And we’re joined together in that sense…there’s no amount of memory loss that can ever take that away…because every time I open my eyes, no matter where I am, you’re with me again.  And I’m with you.  Forever tied to each other like seconds and minutes, all adding up to lifetimes of experiences spent floating in the ether, imagining new versions of ourselves and hopefully evolving along the way.  Stars in an endless universe that’s full of’em, all burning brightly and shining with their own uniqueness, offering a light that deserves to be seen.  Conscious thoughts in the darkness, comforted in the sweet blending of harmonious existence and complete transference from one to another.  A beautiful combination of each other, one and all.

I feel like I just woke up here.  I’m so glad to see you haven’t left.  I hope I haven’t been asleep too long.  I swear I’m just about to wake up for real this time, I’m ready to get out of bed now and remind myself that the world I’m living in still has a ton to offer.  I know you’re coming with me…you’re always with me…and I hope that never changes.  I might not always remember everything as clearly as I used to, but it’s your unmistakable presence that I can’t forget…there’s only one you and there’s only one me.  We’re everything and nothing, everywhere and nowhere…and we always will be.  Thank-you for being here, wherever this version of here may be, whatever version of here we are in.  We’re luckier than we know, and though I might not always recognize you – I always know you’re here.  Right to the final moments, the finale, the last notes ringing out as the record spins…we’ll be together, always.  There’s comfort in this feeling that can’t possibly be described…I can stare at the wall and drift off into thoughts so clear, vivid and real that it’s like you’re here – and As Long As I Close My Eyes, I’m By Myself; but I’m never alone…I never will be…and in turn, neither will you.

I told you listening to Aidan’s music was a trip.  Let your mind wander with this new record from Aidan – it’s well worth the adventure.

Listen to more of his music at Bandcamp here:  https://aidankoop.bandcamp.com/

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