Its in there, waiting to be released and we all have a little of it. It requires a little sensitivity to feel it and a certain lack of sensitivity to enjoy it. The imperfections must slide by unmarked or the rhythm is spoiled. Keep the feeling by losing feeling.
I did it though. I recaptured it last night with my guitar and my voice still rough from disuse. It had moments, definite moments when it was just happening and nothing was forced or contrived. Just a few minutes of self-indulgence and never mind if my fingers stumble a bit or if my voice is just a little cracked. I did it.
It was bad of me. I should have been better company. There's always music available: packaged and produced to perfection. I contribute what is sub-standard and not needed and perhaps unwelcome. Still, it felt good. At odd moments, I like to think that it sounded good too. Some or other critic once said of Wagner 'He has wonderful moments and dreadful half hours.' I'm a bit like that without the inspiration or the skill, but those moments are... transcendent.
The instrument plays itself and I am its instrument, being played. The soul resonates, however briefly and then... self-consciousness. I've been bad. I'll put it aside for now. Till next time.