Leaving Tracks: I hope that when I die, there is still a book to publish · 4:45am Sep 1st, 2023
I have an acquaintance named Mike. He makes wonderful music under the name Lettuce Prey, most of which you can get for free. He's been doing this for a long time, and before he started the solo project Lettuce Prey, he was in a band called Caterpillar, and before that, he did various other musical things. He has been making music in some fashion since before I was born, or at least damn close to it.
I got acquainted with Mike through my other hobby, archiving music. I buy records and cassettes and I make digital copies of them, in the hopes that these things can live on in some form. I am aware many of these will go unlistened to. I am aware that many of them are not particularly good. But I chronicle the home bedroom lo-fi indie folk tapes as carefully and as exactly as I can, because someone at one point in time cared very much about these songs and put them onto tape, or cut them into vinyl, and they did their best to get people to listen to them. They played shows to small audiences, maybe they had a degree of local success, but they usually fizzled out musically without going anywehre.
But still, someone made those songs, those tapes, those records, and I want them to survive. That was how I came to know Mike. His Bandcamp page for Lettuce Prey was incomplete, as I was informed by a mutual friend. He was missing a single, an LP, and a few songs off a cassette. This friend suggested I try and get in touch with him to share these songs.
I was nervous. I do not typically work with the artists of the music I archive. Most of the time, if an artist is still around, they put their old music out themselves. Other times, they may not want me sharing their old unknown recordings. I did not know what to expect from Mike.
He was, in a word, enthusiastic. Over the moon to have those songs back, and to have someone who cared so much about them. It was a little surprising, but years later we still ocassionally send an email back and forth. He is a wonderful person as well as a talented musician, and lately, he has given me a lot to think about.
There's one thing consistent with Mike: He wants to talk about whatever new project he's working on whenever we get in touch. Something I am eternally happy to oblige him with, because I do love to hear about what he's doing. A big part of that is a respect for him as a musician, and an interest in his goings on with that. A big part is just the different fields we work in; it's no surprise to readers that I am a massive music fan, but I am not a musician myself. It is interesting to hear how that side of things works. But there is another, deeper reason why I can't stop thinking of my conversations with Mike.
He's just always so excited. The oldest release I can find that he was a part of was the first Caterpillar single, released as a 7" record in 1992. I confess, I haven't heard it, so I do not know if it's any good. Certainly I would not have cared about it upon release—I would have been one year old at the time.
Mike has been releasing music for at least thirty-one years, and to this day, he excitedly wants to tell me what he is doing. And I cannot think of anything I have ever aspired to do as much as that.
I am, as you must know, a storyteller. I have talked of my relationship with being a storyteller over many blogs, and of my need to do it. But I don't know if I talked much about the joy of it. I don't know if I talk much about how excited I am for the stories that remain untold. I don't know if I talk much about the feeling of hearing from people whose lives I've touched with my writing.
I have spent a large part of my life expecting I would not live to see old age. I have tried to kill myself twice now, and a part of me always thought that I would just someday succeed. I do not think that is the case anymore, so I've had to grapple with the idea that I will someday be old, and of what that means. There are logistical concerns. I have not saved for retirement, something I aim to start doing very soon.
But all those kinds of concerns, they are just things. Just stuff to do. Tonight I had a revelation. For the first time ever, I realized I know I want to live a long and full life. I want to experience lots of things and learn I was wrong time and again. I want to grow old, and I want to write. Most of all, I want to write.
I want to write. I want to share these stories with the world. I want people to laugh, cry, yell, and hate me for the things I write and for the fact that they must keep reading more to get to the end, knowing it will be hard, but needing to see it through. I want little kids and adults both to stay up past their bedtime, promising themselves just one more page, until they've fallen asleep with an open book. I want people to come to me, to thank me, to curse me, to say that I was the story that made them feel like someone out there understood.
And I want to smile wryly, never quite knowing what to say, and take that with me as I write another story. Some story that has been in my head for years, but never put to paper. Something I have talked about time and again, because no matter how long I'm doing this, I want to come to every story with an excitement to me.
And when the game is up and it's time to leave this world behind me, I hope I also leave just one more book. Something finished, but unpublished. Something that I will never see the reviews for, something no one will ever tell me their thoughts of.
And, if I am wrong about what lies beyond and I find myself in some kind of afterlife that I don't believe in, then I imagine I will smile wryly, not know quite what to say, and move on to write another story.
♥
This is a wonderful blog and I’m happy that you’re happy!
(whoa sorry for spilling my guts here i just got emotional for some reason)
I want you to know your stories mean a lot to me, not only do i like them but one of them i feel saved my life. I gave up on myself and i spiraled, i almost gave up on everything. I ran out of fiction for the escapism and reality bit me.
But then, i found on of your stories, and i thought i had another escape, another way to hide from my life and i was ready to repeat the cycle. However your story, it touched me in a way no other fiction has, in a way that probably saved my life.
I am doing good now and i have you to thank for part of it, so every bloody story you tell, i will listen, and i will archive some how some way.
I am glad you are getting the happiness we all know you deserve
It always feels strangely surreal to read someone's thoughts and think: That's me. It's eerie how 'me' that is. Right up to the point where the reaction changes into: Phew, good, that's where the parallels end.
Never quite understood why it's so scary to not be unique. Certainly isn't anything I'm actively, consciously striving for. So what gives?
Your life in itself is a story. It started long before you were even conceived, and it will end - if it ever does - long after you perished. And all those stories you share with others, those only further prolong yours. Every story you share is a footprint you leave behind. You touch someone else's mind and soul. You manipulate their emotional states, for better or worse. Maybe they learn something. Maybe they don't. You cannot decide that, as much as you can't decide what they might take away from your tales. But sharing it can be such a joy.
I wish you happiness. Whatever form that might take. Maybe it's that unpublished book you leave behind. It seems you have a couple more steps to go. Things can change. Maybe one day, it won't be a book anymore. Maybe it's a theater show. A movie. A bedtime story for someone dear to you. Maybe it's something else entirely. Keep striving. And I hope you find plenty of happy moments along the way.
oh my god, how are you babbo
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Thank you, and I really am the happiest I've ever been lately.
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I'm extremely flattered that you think so highly of my stories, and also grateful that were able to meet on Discord and such. I hope you'll keep sticking out this life and find yourself in better days ahead!
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I appreciate your words here, and I know exactly what you mean with the feeling of reading someone else's words and being surprised that they resonate so much with you. I think that above all else is what drives me to write. That feeling of sharing a piece of myself and having other people read that and decided that we're the same on some level. That connection with people I haven't met and many whom I will never meet. It's magical.
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I love that this is the takeaway here
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I'm old and my parts hurt D:
Okay. I didn't read all of this.
(Dyslexia kicks my butt some times)
But ...
Okay I was going to find the quote but, just Sod it!
You sound so enthusiastic.
Or read so so enthusiastic.
I've been doing great recently.
But I mostly forget that I am the outlier and that when I say things like "I plan on living for at least century more". It's considered odd.
The amount of justification I've had to come up with to convince people that it's possible.
I was lucky enough to know a 98 year old in my teen years and his only weakness was the NHS not knowing is they could do simple surgery on him at 98.
My only regret with knowing this legend was not correcting him one time in his singular laps in concentration when he got my name slightly wrong and he was only a month away from being 99.
Gonna read this in full.
Okay I'm smiling like an idiot. You read as sooooooo happy.
You're such a ludicrously talented writer and I'm a bit sad that I can rarely sing your praises outside this very specific community—studying English has only made me more certain that your work is brilliant and nothing really compares to it. On the one hand, I love that your work is fanfiction simply because it is living proof that no matter what genre, there is always room for meaning and literary merit. But on the other hand...
I want to scream about how good your work is to everyone. I want to by able to discuss your work fervently without there needing to be a "source" material (although often the "source" is irrelevant to the quality). Most of all, I want to tell people that my favourite book is "playing house," and for them to be able to look it up and read it for themselves without instantly dismissing it.
At the end of the day, though, I'm just glad you exist and created this stuff in the first place. And I hope you keep writing, not because your work is good (but it is very very good), but because you enjoy it.
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Sorry for the belated reply, but I am indeed quite happy these days. I mean, I still struggle with depression but like I am more stable than I've ever been and generally think things are going pretty well!
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But also, I want to say that I deeply appreciate your words here. I generally do think I'm a talented writer, but what does that mean? Am I talented for a pony writer but only average for other stuff? I agree that fanfic is just a medium like any other, and there's no reason why "Great writer of fanfic" should even need the "of fanfic" qualifier. Still, it's amazing to hear that from readers, it's extremely validating!
Hopefully someday! I'm ~1/3 of the way through my first original novel, might be that you're able to talk about my work with non-fans sooner than you think
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Well then I'm glad that I read the blog correctly.
(Spending more time offline seems to make my internet time more stop / start)
I find it to be very very rude of Reality to not include an 'off switch' for depression.
But finding ways to manage it all... well it helps.
For years now this very site and several others have been my emotional crutches to get me to smile just a little.
But now I get to go out and make other smile and laugh again. But now I can sometimes even get people to sing and dance a little.
Because even if I fake enthusiasm at the start it readily becomes authentic. Just gotta find the right people. And nudge yourself out of that comfort zone of being real sad.
(Wow reading someone else bring so honest and open; it really does get others to open up! )