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About This Author
Well, hello. I’m still testing this.
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Music Notes
A blog, generally about music, usually for projects hosted by Jeff  . I may also write about the 48-Hour Media Prompt Challenge if I don't feel like writing a story or poem inspired by the given song. Other bits of poetry or different topics of discussion might end up here as well.
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Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ  StephBee  "The Bard's Hall Contest" 
Wanna know how I became an Imagine Dragons fan? No? Well, I'll tell you anyway 
I've already mentioned how I was unfamiliar with everything but the sounds of music, growing up. My musical coming of age started in 2015 (the year ID released sophomore album Smoke + Mirrors) and exploded in 2017. (The year they released their third album, Evolve.) Songs I'd been aware of for years finally took on a name and a face, so to speak.
The first song I was ever aware of from Imagine Dragons was Demons, released 2012. I knew the sound of it because we used to shop frequently at a store called Burke's Outlet, where they subscribed to SiriusXM satellite radio. Every store in the chain, in those days, had their radio set to SiriusXM The Blend, featuring a rolling playlist of perhaps fifty to a hundred current pop songs which got annoying really fast. Between 2012 and 2017, every time we walked into a Burke's Outlet, I'd be likely to hear Demons.
I never understood the lyrics, except for the words “this is my kingdom come.” That phrase alone was enough to cause suspicion, from a Christian point of view, and the song's vibe generally unnerved me, because I knew it wasn't your typical love song but I didn't know why.
At some point I googled “this is my kingdom come lyrics,” saw the names “Imagine Dragons” and “Demons” for the first time ever, and immediately assumed they were Gothic… code word in my naive mind for satanic. It's difficult and somewhat embarrassing to explain how culturally sheltered and deeply religious my upbringing was, to lead me to that conclusion. I didn't know people refer to their mental issues as demons. I thought it was a man admitting he's possessed. Combine that with the old urban legends of rock stars selling their souls to the devil for fame and fortune, and… yeah. Not good 
After that, every time I heard Demons, I'd get a surprisingly strong physiological reaction of unease and dismay. This early promotional image from the Dragons, which was on their Wikipedia page for years, didn't help:
 
“Sulky” was the word that came to mind to describe Dan, second from right. I did not hold a high opinion of four pallid, sour-faced guys in black jackets leaning against a brick wall
The change in my perspective came with Believer, which took over the airwaves in 2017, mostly unnoticed by me at first. It wasn't until one day in August, in the mountains of Weaverville, North Carolina, I happened to have Believer blasted into my head at Walmart and picked it up on Google Sound Search.
Being always curious, I went over the lyrics, and the first thing that popped out at me was the lines “I'm the one at the sail, I'm the master of my sea.” This is a dead ringer for the lines in William Earnest Henley's poem Invictus: “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.” Which is ironic, because I've always found Invictus to be disturbing. People assume it's a rah-rah declaration of strength in pain; I saw through it as a declaration of unbridled spiritual rebellion in the face of hellfire.
In my quest to find out more about the song, the group, and why the singer tapped into Invictus, I gradually started to appreciate Imagine Dragons for what they are: decent, catchy and thought-provoking. I learned about lead singer Dan Reynolds and the autoimmune diseases he struggles with, and began to understand his mindset. In my journal, I wrote that Believer “grabbed me by the throat and wouldn't let go” until I decided to enjoy it and find my meaning in it.
After a few weeks, I was gobbling up whatever Imagine Dragons music I could find, same as OneRepublic. Possibly my most precious moment was watching the Dragons performing Thunder acoustic at the 2017 Tyler Robinson Foundation annual Gala. It was the first time I'd laid eyes on Dan Reynolds speaking and singing, and it was an enormous relief to see how normal, sweet and funny a human being he actually was. Not sulky, not possessed. Just… loveable, in a goofy, boyish way.
From then on, I had nothing to worry about and a lot to learn  
Circling back to Demons, it was still a while before I could bring myself to listen to that song, unless it was live at the yearly TRF Gala, which I always made a point of watching. Oddly enough, precisely at the time when Believer was blowing up the charts, SiriusXM The Blend cut Demons out of their playlist. One of the last times they played it, I was struck by the fact that the very next song after it was Broken Road, by Rascal Flatts. Together, they told a deeper story, one I could understand. Eventually, I related Demons to the story of Beauty and the Beast, creating several art pieces combining the two.
Believe it or not, I never heard Radioactive when it exploded and made ID famous in 2012. I was familiar with Demons, vaguely familiar with It's Time—I thought it sounded rather like Bon Jovi—and conflated I Bet My Life with the Mumford and Sons song I Will Wait, but Radioactive… crickets.
It's the kind of song that if I had heard it, I would never have forgotten it. Like, “OMG, he's talking about the apocalypse! Is this the Illuminati warning us the end is near?” Seriously, my mom liked watching conspiracy theory documentaries back then, as well as channels where people would read occult messages into TV commercials and other cultural stuff. Radioactive was exactly the sort of thing I would have been deeply alarmed by, in my limited understanding of pop culture. I guess I never heard it because it was considered rock rather than pop, therefore didn't appear on the “eighties, nineties and today” stations I was usually exposed to.
So… yeah. I became an Imagine Dragons “believer” ultimately because I happened to be in the right place at the right time. Trust me, this is the abbreviated story My journals from those days fill hundreds of virtual pages, all about music, the people who made it, the stories behind it, and what it taught me and inspired in me.
Here's the 2017 TRF Gala performance; Thunder begins at approximately 33 minutes in. I love the “secret message” that comes clear at the end: “never give up on your dreams!”
Words: 1,100.
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Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ StephBee "The Bard's Hall Contest"
I grew up with Winnie the Pooh, so of course I always liked Eeyore. As a kid, I didn't understand why he was always so sad, though when I read the original stories by A. A. Milne, I became more aware of the British sense of humor involved.
Did it ever occur to you that Eeyore's name is onomatopoeic? In our rural Tennessee county, the school board office was next door to a field. In that field stood a donkey. The donkey literally brayed “Eeyore” to anyone who would listen  What a delightful learning experience!
As an adult, I appreciate Eeyore's depressive and occasionally cynical nature. I like how Pooh Bear and his friends love the little purple donkey with the loose tail, and the way everyone wishes him well but doesn't try too hard to change him… although there was the Little Golden Book, Eeyore, Be Happy! which could be summed up in the Grumpy Cat catchphrase: “I had fun once. It was awful” 
A few years ago, while getting over my creative collapse from the Covid lockdown, I developed the habit of taking selfies with Squishmallows in the store. This was partly because I couldn't afford to buy any of them and wanted something to remember them by. I've never been a selfie sharer, preferring to make eclectic art pieces using my unsmiling face as a surrealist element, rather than taking straightforward photos for social media purposes.
When I saw the Eeyore Squishmallow at Walgreens, of course I took a selfie with it. This was in 2021, during Imagine Dragons Mercury Act 1 era. One of the tracks from Act 1 taught me the pop psychology catchphrase “it's ok to be not ok.” I was impressed with the concept at the time, assuming it to be unique.
For me, it wasn't a big leap at all to draw an artistic connection between my Eeyore selfie and the mental health/self esteem message of the song. I'd been creating art combining song lyrics with innovative images for years. I worked with the image in my favorite Android photo editor, Photo Studio, and created this:
Later, in 2022, Imagine Dragons was celebrating the tenth anniversary of their debut album Night Visions. They released several previously unheard-of tracks from their vault, and I found one of those to be especially soothing: Easy.
I remembered my Eeyore selfie and came up with a fresh idea. I wrote out the lyrics to Easy in my best “pandemic cursive,” snapped a picture of it, and layered the transparent sheet of words over my image, resulting in:
Not sure how to do that again… I haven't used those photo editing techniques in years. I impress myself sometimes, looking back at the intricate digital art pieces I made on my phones in those days.
I've only ever shared these two pictures with one person, a close pen pal. I treasure these, because they entwine so much of what I love: music, art, handwriting, autumn, worldview, stuffed animals, Eeyore. I was still wearing my mask because of Covid; you can see it under my chin. I wasn't smiling, because it was supposed to be a solemn picture. Generally, I look more artistic when I'm not trying to “happy grin” for photos.
So… if any of you ever wanted to know what I look like, now you know  I may remove the pictures someday, or I'll probably just let this blog post sink into the sands of time. Enjoy!
Oh, and here are the two ID songs. The picture is best suited to Easy, in my opinion, but It's Ok is appropriate as well.
Words: 628.
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Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ StephBee "The Bard's Hall Contest"
Ever since I had a smartphone, I was using Google Docs to stash notes on my dream novel. I had everything in my head that I wanted, and I scribbled down character studies, themes, worldview, plot points, settings, sample scenes, and even goofy little things like a pop song ringtone and make and model of car for each character. I collected stock photos and pictures of actors that looked like my characters. Even the heroine's dog, Barkley, became embodied in a stuffed Wire Fox Terrier. I did everything except write the novel
I was always interested in designing my own book covers, and made myself a bunch of amateur digital collages which were more like concept boards than anything else. In those days the novel was called It Takes Courage.
In 2017, though, my novel obsession was pushed aside by my music obsession. I grew and matured and learned so much about the world, that when I peeked back into my old Google Doc a few years later, I was rather embarrassed at how naive and simplistic I had been.
So the novel returned to its place in my head, where I lived in the ever evolving yet steadily looping world I'd created in a way similar to Peter Pan's Neverland. It was always in the back of my head to write it someday.
One of the fun things I did in 2023, prior to joining WdC, was to install the Novelist app on my brand new Galaxy phone. If I remember correctly, I did so because I had installed Hoopla and read some fiction for the first time in several years, and it had reignited my novel dream.
My attempt at using the app petered out soon enough, but with a fresh look at committing my same old novel ideas once again to words on a screen, I gave it a new title: All My Secrets Away, inspired by the chorus of the 2007 OneRepublic song Secrets.
With the new title came a desire for a new book cover. I realized by now that a square, collage style image wasn't especially professional. This novel rehash was during my AI art obsession, so naturally I turned to Wombo Dream to help me make a cover.
In those days, AI art was generally super primitive, only beginning to rise out of a “primordial slime” of abstract blobs and swirls. I played around with prompts and settled for an approximation of a hand held up, sending off a flock of birds.
As you can see, it was an awfully sloppy image, but I liked the concept and how it related to the revealing of secrets.
So… after WdC, I discovered I didn't really want to write a novel at all. Apparently what I thrive at is short stories. I've spent the past two years honing my writing skills, moving away from my old constantly looping Neverland into a vastly more interesting and mentally healthy space.
Recently, though, it occurred to me that using today's advanced language model AIs, specifically ChatGPT, I would now be able to create a far more professional book cover exactly to my specifications. I could even have it add the title, without needing to bring the image file into a conventional photo editor to add text like in “the old days.”
So that's what I did. The image ChatGPT gave me is precisely what I wanted and what I described to it. The process was simple; the ability to write conversationally instead of in the brusque way the dedicated AI art generators expect is a huge improvement.
So… yeah. Two covers of a novel I will probably never write, but that occupied my headspace for a number of years. It grew with me, matured with me, and when I no longer needed it in my head, it was tucked away into various corners of my Google suite.
Here also, OneRepublic's Secrets
Words: 660. |
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Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ StephBee "The Bard's Hall Contest"
As I begin prepping this blog post, I'm sitting in a Walmart parking lot, waiting on an order. The din of noisy vehicles and clashing carts only slightly masks the music filtering down from the wall-mounted store radio, which is currently playing the “wrong way on a one-way track” song.
Every time I've heard that over the years, I think it's Tom Petty's voice and style. It isn't. It's from Soul Asylum, a 2004 song called Runaway Train. I haven't heard it in a long while, so I fell into the same delusion this time as well until I remembered it.
My idea today (at posting time, this means yesterday…) was to write a goals check-in, to let y'all know how I'm doing with that hefty to-do list I ran down at the beginning of the month. So…
I'm halfway through Rachel's Beatles Challenge, having written fourteen drabbles (really thirteen and one slightly longer poem.) I completed Merit Badge Magic, Cubby's Writing 4 Kids, and the 48 Hour Media Prompt Challenge. I'm up to date on Promptly Poetry, though nervous at the thought of composing a poem with unspecified iambic meter…  I wrote one out of the five remaining "Reflections" tracks. And I've completed Hook of the Book.
Most of these are “small fry” for me, bits of writing under 1k words that get added to a book item or my blog, or in the case of the Book Hook, go solely to a forum. I have potentially three other, more important contests I want to combine the last of Reflections with: Kit’s Share Your Faith, Light in Mind’s Grill a Christian, and the Official WdC contest, which is Quotation Inspiration this month.
Last time I entered Quotation Inspiration, in February, I didn't take it seriously enough and ended up shoehorning the offered quote into something which, although a perfectly good story, did not meet the judges expectations. So this month I wanted to either take it seriously, or maybe on the flip side, just relax and have fun writing what I want, without the pressure. It seems like a flexible quote that could lend itself to the final story of Reflections.
I thought of bragging about the compliment I received from my new friend Kazi yesterday on "I Get Carried Away" , or how my old friend Jack was impressed with "The Man in the Hat" and will review it today, or being featured in two newsletters this week, but I don't want to be vain or tedious. If there's anything I learned from the kerfuffles last summer, it's an awareness of my tendency to be an obnoxious brat, and that's never a good way to behave.
I also thought of chattering excitedly about the process of writing Reflections, because I shared some of that with Brian K Compton in a review earlier, but… it ain't over yet I would rather look back on it than try to analyze it for others while still in progress. And besides, that should be a separate (lengthy!) entry, which I should probably crosslink with the folder intro… which will need to be rewritten as a proper introduction to what I’ve created, rather than merely an explanation of why I chose that album.
One thing I need to keep working on is patience, both here and in real life. I have the disruptive tendency to panic at the beginning of the month, spinning my wheels knocking as many things off my to-do list as quickly as possible, because I'm afraid something terrible will happen and I won't have a chance to do anything anymore. For whatever reason, I fear the fragility and instability of life. This relates to a lack of faith and a tendency towards cynicism and nihilism. I need to find peace and take one day at a time, without anxiety for the future.
Here's the Tom Petty sound-alike song to conclude with. I've never listened to it with earbuds, only heard it in my surroundings, so I don't know how much it really resembles Petty's music “up close and personal.”
Words: 680.
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Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ StephBee "The Bard's Hall Contest"
My relationship with music has evolved dramatically over my lifetime. I've always been fascinated by music; as a toddler and small child I easily identified songs on the radio from the slightest samples. I never quite understood the meaning behind lyrics, if I even understood the lyrics.
I should say, I have had no musical training whatsoever. I can't sing or play any instruments, and lack even a basic knowledge of music theory, which is embarrassing for someone who's been totally obsessed with music for the past ten years or so.
Growing up in a strict household where my mom developed her piety to a higher level as the years passed, my exposure to music was quite limited. In the early years, she played the radio in the car, so I heard old rock and current country as we went through the process of moving from Florida up to Tennessee. I started calling old rock (Billy Joel, Billy Idol, Rolling Stones, etc) “Florida music.”
Later on at home, she played a little of this and that occasionally: Tom Petty, Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Temptations. No more than a song or two or three from each of them. I never cared much for the music she liked back then, not having any clear idea of what it was about or what the point of music even was beyond the lyrics. It was simply there, a soundtrack to my early childhood, embedded forever in my memories.
As I grew older and Mom played less music at home, I became more keenly aware of the music surrounding me outside. It's funny how in our small town in Tennessee, every public building had the radio on: the bank, post office, small businesses, loan offices, grocery stores, thrift stores, etc. It wasn't solely country music, either, as one might assume.
I have tight associations of certain songs to certain places where I first encountered them; Don Henley's Heartache Tonight always reminds me of a local grocer’s called FoodLand, where the owner played a particular type of eighties rock. I used to mondegreen it as “gonna be a party tonight” and assumed it was a silly, empty-headed song.
Our local post office usually played a radio station labeling itself as “eighties, nineties and today,” and since we spent hours waiting in line to run errands, I learned many a song there which I now look back on with nostalgic fondness: OneRepublic’s Counting Stars, Christina Perri’s A Thousand Years, Tears for Fears Shout, Mumford and Sons I Will Wait, Ellie Goulding's Lights, and Philip Phillips Home.
I was so fascinated by the vast world of music, I started scribbling scraps of lyrics that caught my fancy in the margins of my journals. Most of them were half-baked mondegreens…
These days of knowing songs existed, without knowing anything about them, caused some misunderstandings. Certain ones I assumed did not have wholesome lyrics turned out, when I looked into them, to be classics of the era. I particularly remember being upset by the EchoSmith song Cool Kids, hearing it for the first time on a radio in an office building. I bounced it off angrily in my journal against the Gwendolyn Brooks poem We Real Cool. It took several years before I realized what the theme is.
It wasn't until I received my first personal Internet access via a smartphone in 2015 that I really started exploring music. At first I simply absorbed the lyrics to everything I heard without paying attention to much else. In 2017, I took a deeper dive into musical exploration and became a consciously obsessed fan, first of OneRepublic and then Imagine Dragons. This is when I began actively choosing and listening to music as a hobby, rather than merely passively evaluating whatever I happened to hear in public.
The move to listening to music on my own terms, funnelled inside my head, was a big one for me. I'd never owned a pair of earbuds before, nor ever had the opportunity to say “I want to hear this song.” It opened up a vast universe of creativity, analysis and learning. I wrote copious notes on my opinions about what I was listening to, leaving myself a paper trail of my evolutionary path as I developed my tastes and sorted music into different styles, eras and categories.
I don't do streaming music because I dislike the elements of uncertainty and the fickle, amoral algorithms involved. Plus, I believe music should be free, at least as much as possible.
When I figured out how to download and store my favorite tracks offline on an old inactive phone, I felt like I'd conquered the world. Finally I had what I'd dreamed of: exactly what I wanted to hear when and where I wanted, without the bother of an intermittent internet connection or the drain of leaving the screen lit up with a YouTube video. When I discovered panning, layered sound via a pair of $5 truly wireless earbuds from Dollar Tree, it was another epiphany.
The world of music has contributed to my growth, inspiration and mental wellness in infinite ways. My first social media account was in support of music (Wolf Angel/Thoughtfullyricist on Genius), the first and most meaningful pen pals I made were fellow music nerds, and the first time I've felt understood and validated in my own skin was while snuggled between the notes of songs. Dan Reynolds and his support of the LGBTQ community encouraged me to reevaluate my identity and come out as proudly asexual in 2019.
Music has always been present in my life, and as I've grown up, it has become an inseparable part of who I am, with lyrics and melodies woven into my soul, forming an indelible patchwork road map of my life's journey. Each song is a landmark, pointing out where I was at a particular moment both mentally and geographically.
I was always hesitant to share much about myself in public… in the words of a demo track from OneRepublic: “I'm something special, maybe something nice, but I don't have it figured like they do/ you see I got my worries, and I got my vice—there's nothing ‘bout my world that they're used to.”
Music helped teach me I have far more in common with the rest of humanity than I thought. To close, here's the 1R demo I quoted. It's a nostalgic piece for me on many levels, and in fact I previously blogged about it for the Barrel of Monkeys challenge. "The Perfects, OneRepublic (Demo)"
Words: 1,088.
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For the June 2025 48 Hour Media Prompt Challenge, StoryMaster chose a song from 2014 which I'm sure we've all heard before but never quite knew who or what: Rude, by Magic.
I've been aware of “why ya gotta be so rude, doncha know I'm human too, I'm gonna marry her anyway - marry that girl” for years, considering it a cute, pleasant little teenybopper piece, a one-hit wonder as far as I know. Seeing it here sent the whole thing echoing through my head, without any need to watch the video. It brought on some nostalgia as I remembered the early days of my musical exploration.
At first I wasn't sure whether to write a blog, a poem, or a story. I began a story, but ran out of steam after the first two paragraphs. I have enough of those to work on already. Instead, I'll give you a story synopsis.
It begins with a young man, Nick, who wants to marry his lady, Megan. He dresses up and heads to her home all eager beaver to speak to her dad. Of course, he gets rudely rebuffed for no good reason, being really a perfectly suitable suitor.
Nick talks it over with Megan and they decide to elope and get married anyway because they love each other so much. Off they go to build a life together on the other side of the country.
Ten happy years and two kids later, Megan hears word that her father is very sick with no one to care for him. She and Nick uproot themselves, moving selflessly back to their hometown to help him out.
The father marvels that they returned after he treated them so unfairly and reconciles, getting a chance to meet his grandkids. And the rest is corny sappy happily ever after as they receive the blessing he had denied them previously.
I think this would make a nice sort of “cozy story;” I've been reading about the subgenre lately, and would like to try writing one myself soon. As it is, I have a kernel of an idea here which might be developed someday.
On a side note, isn't it funny how easy it is to open a story with the protagonist either waking up in the morning or lying in bed unable to sleep? It's a natural, relatable, simple and engaging opening. I've used it many times.
Words: 399.
Written for "Note:
48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt
Deadl..."
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Ẃeβ࿚Ẃỉtcĥ StephBee "The Bard's Hall Contest"
Sometimes I wonder why I write.
I write to figure out my world, to create order from chaos, to make a record of what happens, to have something to look back on and say “I wrote that.” I write to share my perspective with others, to “reinvent the wheel” by telling tales as old as time in fresh, impactful ways. I write to communicate, with myself and others.
Sometimes I don't feel like writing. I sit up late, forcing myself to spill out notes on what I've been thinking about, feeling a sense of satisfaction when I've drained every nagging tidbit onto the page. I sleep better after I've “put a lid on the day” by journaling, even if what I write is only connected to the day by the calendar.
An open blogging challenge will indeed be a challenge this month, because I have other writing projects to keep track of and deadlines to maintain…
 Five stories left to write in my "Invalid Item" collection, and I plan on combining one story with possibly two other prompts.
Rachel's Beatles project, where I had the bright idea of writing twenty-eight drabbles, one for each day and seven per week
The weekly Promptly Poetry, which is a relaxing shift from whatever I'm in the middle of.
Merit Badge Magic, which has yet to be announced.
48 Hour Media Prompt Challenge, which is also as yet unannounced.
Cubby's Writing 4 Kids.
Perhaps the Sci-fi writing contest hosted by Black Adder, who hasn't settled on a prompt yet. I'm undecided.
Hook of the Book, which will be more puzzling to figure out this month.
Plus half a dozen or so submissions I need to make to contests allowing previously written content: First and Second Chances, Shadows and Light, Twisted Tales, Senior Center, Poetic Traditions, Higher Ratings.
Just looking at this list is enough to make me  And since I do most of my writing at night, it's more difficult, because I also want to  at night (duh.) I usually end up zoning out around 10:30 PM while attempting to write whatever is next, clutching my old phone in bed, because I write almost everything on it. I'm still learning how to type
With that being said, I'm not entirely sure I can manage ten blog entries of any quality worth your time, but I'll certainly try. I can use them as a progress report of sorts, laying out my writing goals and keeping them in view. I can make notes about music, which would be appropriate since the blog is called Music Notes.
I hesitate to reveal personal details on a blog; I'm naturally a recessive, almost reclusive person, and I believe the less said, the better. But that doesn't rule out sharing life anecdotes, some of the shaping moments that led me here.
I'm looking forward to doing my best on this blog project, wherever it will take me.
Thank you for the opportunity.
Words: 503.
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I'm writing for the WdC 48 Hour Media Prompt Challenge, where they provide a song to inspire us. I've been in a ruminating mood all day ("Note: Maybe I'll tell the story behind this *^*Th...") and this is a perfect opportunity (excuse?) for me to ramble non-fictionally.
The song: A Stone Only Rolls Downhill, by Ok Go. I have no intention of listening to it. I read the lyrics, and they triggered so much that was already bubbling under in my head, I don't need to know anything else about it.
The theme is pessimistic for song lyrics, especially these days when pop music overflows with cheap mental health catchphrases and vapid reassurances that "you aren't ok, I'm not ok either, but it's gonna be fine…" which I scoff at yet also seek comfort in, though I don't care to indulge. Rather than offer these candy-corn empty calories, this song takes a more frank and gloomy perspective on things, saying "I really wish I could tell you it's all gonna be ok, but it's not, because of the laws of thermodynamics."
("Wait, what?" I hear you saying over your coffee. "You're going nerdy on us, Angel!")
Basically, the narrator is blaming physics for life's problems. He's saying the natural defaults of gravity, inertia, and inexorable decay will be the death of everything good. Which is strictly true, because everything good in existence requires energy input. The creative process, whether on the grand scale of God's Creation at the beginning of time, or our own exhausting day to day struggle of self improvement, always demands thoughtful, active intervention. Nothing comes from nothing, and if left to itself everything will come to nothing in the end.
When I was a kid, I read one of Agatha Christie's ancient Egypt murder mysteries which revolved around this theme. She outlined the slow, steady deterioration of human nature if left unattended, showing us people who started out as pretty decent, yet allowed their cracks to expand over many years, until their characters became distorted and they behaved in ways unrecognizable to someone who knew them only as they had once been.
Her astute observations haunt me to this day, because I know they are true. I have a tendency to let everything revert to default mode, refraining from being an active participant in my own life. I want things to happen instinctively, naturally, without the expenditure of effort that any real improvement or advancement requires. You can call it lazy; I call it fear, lack of ambition, and a serious failure to recognize the urgency of using the present to prepare a better future.
Allowing things to remain as they are indefinitely without external input is dangerous and stupid, no matter whether we're discussing home improvement, car repairs, outer space or mental health. It's like trying to drive a car without keeping your hands on the wheel or your foot on the gas pedal; you can say "well, I've had it aligned, I filled it with gas, it'll keep going in a straight line forever," but it will always, always go sliding off course, stop moving forward and leave you stranded in the woods. It's even as simple as making your bed every morning because you hate the tangle it gets into after a few days. The bed never makes itself, and the car never truly drives itself.
Drawing from this, one must be constantly vigilant and proactive in all areas of life, understanding what needs to be done to maintain a healthy status quo and what further efforts should be made to improve upon the default.
So, coming back around, I don't like this song, even though I identify all too strongly with the accuracy of the theme. The narrator's attitude is lackadaisical, allowing the downhill default of a rolling stone to sweep him away into the gutter without protest. He refuses to take action to improve things, instead claiming helplessness against the inexorable tides of fate.
I prefer the attitude of Imagine Dragons lead singer Dan Reynolds, who consistently engages himself in a multilevel battle against his default. He has Ankylosing Spondylitis, which if left untreated causes the fusion of bones and lost mobility. Rather than allowing this to happen, he sticks to a rigorous diet and exercise plan which keeps his body strong and healthy.
He struggles with depression, anxiety, people pleasing, introversion, and pain, but he never surrenders to any of it. His lyrics display a resilience and determination to keep moving forward no matter how hard it is, even if he has to "kill off" the flaws which hold him back… leading occasionally to unsettling songs blurring the lines between internal and external battles. (More on that someday.)
For myself, I struggle in many areas which require consistent action towards improvement. Some days I feel like a nihilist, questioning why anything at all is worth doing if everything crumbles in the end. I need songs like a "slap in the face," not songs that wallow in the hopeless, self-fulfilling prophecy of what will never be if you don't get off your rear end and do something about it.
Speaking from a faith perspective, we should also consider that God is actively upholding the universe, pouring His living spirit into everything and providing stasis and stability. Without God's consistent intervention, the universe would cease to exist, winding down like clockwork, reverting to the default of thermodynamic laws. For this, we should be grateful. Belief in this helps us to refute the attitudes of those who claim "a stone only rolls downhill…" With God's grace, we can push that stone back where it belongs and keep it there.
Now my mind wanders to the Greek mythology of Sisyphus, perpetually pushing a boulder uphill only to watch it roll back down again. A nihilistic worldview could be drawn from that: why bother? This is why one needs to have faith rather than succumb to secularism. Despite claiming to free us from boundaries and expectations, it rather leads us to the blank and depressing conclusion that life is devoid of meaning unless we invent our own. Some of us are too exhausted to invent meaning and will let the void devour us. Perhaps that's what happened to the narrator of A Stone Only Rolls Downhill.
A big thank-you to StoryMaster for bringing us the Media Challenge this month. I was keenly aware of its absence in April. This one came at the right moment, allowing me to dig myself out of my day's swampy ruminations and approach them from a different perspective…. though I doubt I've scratched the surface of my thoughts on the subject.
Words: 1,110.
Written for "Note:
48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt
Deadl..."
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Alex shuffled from one foot to the other on Ella's doorstep, sweaty hands clutching a bouquet of roses. His heart pounded in his throat as he knocked, even though he'd already texted he was coming.
The door opened. Ella leaned on the frame with a pale smile.
"Come in. I'm sick today… don't know how much fun I'll be."
"I don't need to have fun." Alex held out the bouquet. "I wanted to help you feel better."
Ella took the roses, sinking down onto the living room couch. After a moment's hesitation, Alex gathered the courage to sit beside her. She didn't object.
They sat in silence for some time. A clock ticked on the mantle. Ella lay back in the cushions, eyes half closed.
"I'm sorry… I guess this isn't a good time to—"
"What?" She looked over at him, eyelashes batting against crystalline agate eyes.
"I—thought… maybe you'd—" Alex choked on his words.
"Well, speak up." Ella straightened up with a giggle. "I don't have all night."
"Would you like to be—uh… like, more than friends? We've known each other for so long. I don't want to ruin it. But if you want, I'd love to…"
"Alex, I do love you. But not like that." She looked him firmly in the eye. "Not now. Maybe after I complete my education."
"Yes, of course," he mumbled, eyes on the floor. "Whatever you say. I just want you to know I'll be there if you ever…"
"That's very nice. I appreciate your feelings. Now, I have some chores to do."
Alex heaved a despairing sigh as he trudged down the sidewalk. How am I supposed to live without her?
***
Ella moved away to a college town, and Alex stayed behind, working his way up the ranks at a local insurance company. He heard she got married and wasn't planning on coming back to her hometown.
He avoided contact after that, glancing at her Facebook page every so often to make sure she was still alive and doing well. Alex tried looking for someone else, but his relationships never seemed to last very long.
Am I doing something wrong here? Is it me? He examined himself after every failed match, trying to improve. Getting married was a serious commitment, and he resolved not to do it until he was entirely ready, at least as much as possible. After pulling away from dating, self development work and a steady job consumed several years of his life.
One day he logged on to Facebook and saw an announcement from Ella. She was diagnosed with cancer. He joined the flood of well wishes in the comments, but declined to reach out privately.
His visits to her page became more frequent, and he watched as her posts grew less bubbly and further apart. When they stopped altogether for a week, he sent a message. After no response, he dug through his contacts and called her old number.
"Alex, is it really you?" Her voice was so much thinner and weaker than he remembered. "I've been in the hospital. My husband is with someone else. He says he wants a divorce."
"I'll be right there." He brought an enormous bunch of colorful daisies.
Alex stayed by Ella's side through endless rounds of chemo, surgery, rehab and recovery. He didn't offer to make it a relationship again, only spent as much time together as possible, doing what he could.
"Alex, you've been so loyal and patient. What are your intentions?"
"Whatever you want. I just want to be here for you."
"I think it's time we made this more than a friendship." She held his hand.
The day Ella was declared cancer-free, Alex was there.
"Are you sure you're ready, Alex? We've put this off for so long."
"Ella, all my life I've been preparing to carry you home."
Words: 642.
Written for "Note:
48-HOUR CHALLENGE : Media Prompt
Deadl..." |
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This evening I'm settling in with a song given to me by my buddy Jeremy  . He likes to tease me about my obsession with    , so last week I challenged him to present me with a decent song off his own playlist and I'd listen and write about it for a change. (Thread here: "February 22, 2025" )
Sampha is a musician from London, of Sierra Leone heritage, and this song, a single off his 2017 debut album Process, deals with the loss of his mother to cancer.
My first impression at the opening is that it's a lovely piano line. I'm not generally a fan of "piano ballads," as the ones I know fall into the monotonous category of early aughts The Fray and whatnot, but this comes across as more classical, simple and soulful. Indeed, the instrumental is a bit like a piece one might hear at the Hobby Lobby. (If you don't know Hobby Lobby music, you don't know  )
Sampha's voice is clear and sincere, and the song is lightly produced, with almost no effects other than the faintest of drumbeats and a vocal stacking at 1:40. I can even hear birds singing in the moment of silence at the end.
He sings of the important role the piano has played in his and his mother's lives, keeping them close, holding his most precious memories and the deepest pain. Emotions impossible to express can be poured out in music, and he tells how from an early age the piano was his best friend, helping him navigate life's joys and tragedies.
This is a beautiful song, with a peaceful, relaxing feeling. It makes me interested to learn what other works Sampha has made and what his overall style is. I would categorize this song as classical; it doesn't come across as what I think of as "soul" or "R&B" or whatever. It's a man, singing his heart out, accompanying himself on his piano. Nothing I could possibly find to criticize here. I'll be keeping this on my playlist, and I thank Jeremy for selecting it for me.
When it comes to music videos, I often prefer to watch them through silently first, in case there's something I would rather not have associated with the song. This one passed the test, showing us Sampha at his piano and an angelic lady casting a spiritual essence.
I will probably write a Bradbury story inspired by (No One Knows Me) Like the Piano in the coming weeks; perhaps I can connect it to a faith-based prompt.
a note ▼my personal playlist is not exclusively 1R and ID. It's stuffed with little bits of Lindsey Stirling, Simply Three, Coldplay, U2, Keane, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Alec Benjamin, Tom Petty, Twenty Øne Piløts, and a pile of pleasant one-offs ranging from Leather and Lace (Stevie Nicks and Don Henley—studio as well as demo) to Am I Wrong (Nico and Vinz.) I just have a special way of collecting music: slowly and carefully.
Words: 510.
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