The Writer and the Warrior

Today I had a song idea as I was riding reluctantly to class. I thought about a friend of mine who is currently in the army and will be deployed to Afghanistan soon, I thought about my grandfather who flew a plane that almost got shot from the sky in World War Two, I thought about my cousin, who passed away two summers ago after battling severe mental and physical disabilities since birth, then I thought about myself. I thought about the self absorbed, sappy being that I am. I have never faced conflict like that, yet I spend the majority of my time preoccupied with some petty concern. The song title that came to me was "The Writer and The Warrior," perhaps and album title, hmm. I entertained the idea of connecting with my friend after his military travels, we're happy to see each other again and we go for a drink. The bar is authentic, dimly lit and complete with regulars and a cedar interior. I buy my friend a beer and we began to talk about our lives thus far. I am preoccupied with music as I always am, I've been on several tours and am writing for several publications as a music journalist. I'm writing songs and hoping to begin work on a new album soon(like I always am). My friend has been all around the globe, his concern for these past 8 years has not been promoting rock concerts and writing reviews exposing the flaws of artists greater than himself. No, his concern has been staying alive one day at a time. His heirarchy of need is so authentic, so basic, so real, and mine is so vain . I realize that I have never experienced the primal, unblemished joy that is simply crawling into bed at night and knowing that you survived another day, that you conquered. The role of a writer, be it a poet, songwriter, novelist is a vicarious one. Writers don't experience the authentic harshness of the world (despite what Thoreou would like you to believe). Writers may inflict pain on themselves with drugs, alcohol, and nostalgia, but the majority never will experience the authenticity of emotion that my fiend has. I come to this realization in that dimly lit bar and realize what I am, and it sadden's me a little, but not entirely. I am here to be inspired by people who experience, it is my hope that I can preserve adequitely in words and song what they have experienced. We finish our beers, agree we should meet again soon, and go our separate ways.