The ‘AI Portrait’ filter is all the rage on various social media sites, and while I typically abhor a filter, this one has proven especially ridiculous in all the ways it distorts and translates a photo into a completely different image. It sent me down a rabbit hole of possibilities – is this how the world views us? Is this more in line with how we appear to others than how we appear in the mirror? Is this how I should have been wearing my hair when it wasn’t so gray? Lots of questions, lots of musings… and speaking of musing, my new musical muse Mia just sent over a few songs of inspiration, including this one entitled ‘One More Hour’ which posits themes of time and love and all the good stuff that goes along with a properly-examined life.
Just a moment, right before all the song and dance
Wasn’t brave enough to tell you But there ain’t gonna be another chance It’s not long until all that I have and everything’s still The minutes are racin’Whatever I’ve done, I did it for love
I did it for fun – couldn’t get enough I did it for fame but never for money Not for houses, Not for her Not for my future childrenThe music is a challenge – as much as the images are – as much as any piece of art can be. The ideas of time and love, and hurt and pain, and how many times we get up and do it all over again – it all mashes together as the cacophony of this song winds its way along a wavy trajectory.
How could I love again?
How could I ever ask for more? And to the road ahead Into a life I can’t ignore, how could I love again? (Move on) how can I walk this path for sure? (Lose her) with no more time to spend (Move on) I know the answer more and moreAs long as I can, Long as I can
Spend some time alone As long as I can, Long as I can Be the man I amThe funk of the past few months is something I have acknowledged. A little rut, a sunken stretch when the distance of friends suddenly aligned, as if someone simply switched off my light and no one saw me anymore. I didn’t fight it, didn’t rage against the quiet onslaught of being left to my own devices, with just Andy by my side. Part of me actively encouraged it, reveling in this alone time, daring to hint at the sort of friendship drama not seen since ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’ (without all the bloody appendages).
Oh, life is strange
For one more hour, I can rage For one more hourAs long as I can (lose her)
As long as I can (move on) Spend some time alone As long as I can (lose her) As long as I can (move on) Remember who I amAs long as I can (lose her)
As long as I can (move on) Spend some time alone As long as I can As long as I can (how could I love again?) Be the man I amAt the end of the day, setting the alarm on my phone for three separate times, ten minutes apart, I curl up in bed, a pillow between my knees to bring sleep as soon as possible. My mother once told me that was a trick the hospitals used for overnight patients who couldn’t get to sleep. When the days are filled with quiet rumination, it sometimes makes for nights that begin in sleepless fashion. I stare at these silly AI creations and lose myself in characters I never was but perhaps wanted to be, in days that I thought I spent well, even if they were mostly filled with the wasteful abandon of youth. I listen to this song, suggested by the daughter of two good friends, and I think of how she is just beginning her journey, on the verge of entering those years where we become who we are going to become. Those years, and that person I was, feel as intimate and foreign to me as these photos. It’s like seeing myself in a strange new light, as when someone captures an angle of you in a photo that you didn’t realize was being taken, and you see what others see for the first time, and it’s jarring and disturbing and wondrous – it shifts perspective, it alters the interior image.