how not to write music

when I was about seven I had something of a revelation

I had already been gainfully employed by my father stapling boxes for flowers at his market gardening business

I had an idea what real work was about and had no desire to scrabble around in the dirt making a living

on my bedroom wall was a poster of a band called Slade and on the radio was the news that Jimi Hendrix had died

this was a period of outrageous rock and roll stories unlike the wanna be stars of today there was real money to be made

pop stars drove Rolls Royces into swimming pools and threw televisions out of hotel windows

this sounded like a perfect job for me and I started to hatch a plan which would gain me global notoriety money and the ability to have loads of girlfriends

I was commodity crazy like a donkey chasing a bunch of carrots on a stick

I learned the guitar and became an expert at home recording I wrote music like the people making money and I dressed like a star

the one thing I forgot was to shine no diamond light from this being I just wanted the bucks

it was never about the music or the activity it was always about the goal

girls and money and girls and cars and girls and fame and you will love me and

here I am with nothing but my passion for life for living for loving for the experience and not the goal

I have no idea where I am going beyond 11:08am nobody knows the outcome

simply enjoying the sun on my face and the music of others who meant it

this is how life turned out for me this is it and here I am focused on the experience

perhaps my true vocation was always to be the introspective savante never the extroverted fool

see you on the other side of the looking glass

mark ty wharton

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