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Cornel Myspace blog about Layne & dreams
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Hershey PA Posts: 3,853
Don't know if anyone has seen it yet over here. Though that I would post it, very touching and sad about Layne Staley.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Blog from Chris: Essence of Dreams
Category: Music
The essence of a dream can follow you all day long. Sometimes two or three days. I have had dreams as a little kid that I remember like they were yesterday, though as time goes on these dream are sometimes hard to tell from actual events as they survive in my memory.
I am fascinated with the essence factor of dreams, period. They are as real as the essence felt from the ambience of an actual place, like a house you grew up in. Your favourite bar, or your school. The first Christmas tree you see every year, the smell of it, and especially songs. Some feelings these environments evoke are awful, some magical. All of them completely real.
Real enough that numerous cultures throughout history have believed that the dream world is every bit as important and substantial and a vital part of human life as the conscious state. Some mysticisms actually look at the world of dreams as being the "true and only world" and everything else an illusion. For my money, if you put an ice pick through your hand, I think it will prove to be a pretty fucking good illusion.
Last night I had a dream that has been following me all day like a sick dog. I was in a hotel near the house I grew up in. I was in a cafe that happened to be the lunch court of my elementary school. Various friends from my past were walking up and talking to me. In the middle of this scene walks Layne Staley. He looked much like he did the first time I met him. Shoulder length hair, clean shaved. Clear eyed and looking about 20 years old. I was so happy. Confused a little, but in a dream like this, I just wanted to accept the idea that there was some mistake and he was alive and well. He seemed happy and said was working on some new music project.
I woke up not long after that with the feeling that I had really just talked to him and he was somewhere doing just fine.
My next thought was one that has plagued me for years. Sitting in Kelly Curtis' living room with about 30 people, all sobbing. We had just come from Andy Wood's extra weird funeral-wake thing at the Paramount Theatre. It had these new age overtones that didn't fit Andy's life at all. There was an amazing film of Andy with Mother Love Bone band mates. All of Andy's friends and family were there, mixed with a bunch of fans who I didn't like but knew Andy would have loved. The fans went home. His friends went to Kelly's.
We were crammed in a smallish living room with people sitting on every available surface. Couch arms, end tables, the floor. I was leaning on the back of one of the couches that face away from the rest of the room and toward the front door. I remember Andy's girlfriend looking at everyone and saying "This is just like La Bamba" then suddenly I heard slapping footsteps growing louder and louder as they reached the front door and Layne flew in, completely breaking down and crying so deeply that he looked truly frightened and lost. Very child like. He looked up at everyone at once and I had this sudden urge to run over and grab him and give him a big hug and tell him everything was going to be OK. Kelly has always had a way of making everyone feel like everything will turn out great. That the world isn't ending. That's why we were at his place. I wanted to be that person for Layne, maybe just because he needed it so bad. I wasn't. I didn't get up in front of the room and offer that and I still regret it. No one else did either. I don't know why.
Years later, at Layne's funeral, I was angry. I kept hearing the "twice as bright, half as long" speech and the "he was just too special for this world" nonsense that I had heard at so many other funerals for so many other friends that were so young and talented. I'm not sure why I was that angry. Angry at Layne? Angry at all my other friends for leaving me? Angry at the people running around in circles saying "I knew him best" or "I was the only one he really trusted", angry at all of them for squandering what I thought of as brilliant futures that would make the world feel to me like a place worth living? Or maybe I was just mad at myself because he was dead, and one time I had a chance to pick him up, dust him off and let him know that there was a person who cared about how much pain he was in and I didn't do it.
If I ever run into him in a dream again, I hope I remember to apologise.
Night all. Sweet dreams.
C
Monday, October 13, 2008
Blog from Chris: Essence of Dreams
Category: Music
The essence of a dream can follow you all day long. Sometimes two or three days. I have had dreams as a little kid that I remember like they were yesterday, though as time goes on these dream are sometimes hard to tell from actual events as they survive in my memory.
I am fascinated with the essence factor of dreams, period. They are as real as the essence felt from the ambience of an actual place, like a house you grew up in. Your favourite bar, or your school. The first Christmas tree you see every year, the smell of it, and especially songs. Some feelings these environments evoke are awful, some magical. All of them completely real.
Real enough that numerous cultures throughout history have believed that the dream world is every bit as important and substantial and a vital part of human life as the conscious state. Some mysticisms actually look at the world of dreams as being the "true and only world" and everything else an illusion. For my money, if you put an ice pick through your hand, I think it will prove to be a pretty fucking good illusion.
Last night I had a dream that has been following me all day like a sick dog. I was in a hotel near the house I grew up in. I was in a cafe that happened to be the lunch court of my elementary school. Various friends from my past were walking up and talking to me. In the middle of this scene walks Layne Staley. He looked much like he did the first time I met him. Shoulder length hair, clean shaved. Clear eyed and looking about 20 years old. I was so happy. Confused a little, but in a dream like this, I just wanted to accept the idea that there was some mistake and he was alive and well. He seemed happy and said was working on some new music project.
I woke up not long after that with the feeling that I had really just talked to him and he was somewhere doing just fine.
My next thought was one that has plagued me for years. Sitting in Kelly Curtis' living room with about 30 people, all sobbing. We had just come from Andy Wood's extra weird funeral-wake thing at the Paramount Theatre. It had these new age overtones that didn't fit Andy's life at all. There was an amazing film of Andy with Mother Love Bone band mates. All of Andy's friends and family were there, mixed with a bunch of fans who I didn't like but knew Andy would have loved. The fans went home. His friends went to Kelly's.
We were crammed in a smallish living room with people sitting on every available surface. Couch arms, end tables, the floor. I was leaning on the back of one of the couches that face away from the rest of the room and toward the front door. I remember Andy's girlfriend looking at everyone and saying "This is just like La Bamba" then suddenly I heard slapping footsteps growing louder and louder as they reached the front door and Layne flew in, completely breaking down and crying so deeply that he looked truly frightened and lost. Very child like. He looked up at everyone at once and I had this sudden urge to run over and grab him and give him a big hug and tell him everything was going to be OK. Kelly has always had a way of making everyone feel like everything will turn out great. That the world isn't ending. That's why we were at his place. I wanted to be that person for Layne, maybe just because he needed it so bad. I wasn't. I didn't get up in front of the room and offer that and I still regret it. No one else did either. I don't know why.
Years later, at Layne's funeral, I was angry. I kept hearing the "twice as bright, half as long" speech and the "he was just too special for this world" nonsense that I had heard at so many other funerals for so many other friends that were so young and talented. I'm not sure why I was that angry. Angry at Layne? Angry at all my other friends for leaving me? Angry at the people running around in circles saying "I knew him best" or "I was the only one he really trusted", angry at all of them for squandering what I thought of as brilliant futures that would make the world feel to me like a place worth living? Or maybe I was just mad at myself because he was dead, and one time I had a chance to pick him up, dust him off and let him know that there was a person who cared about how much pain he was in and I didn't do it.
If I ever run into him in a dream again, I hope I remember to apologise.
Night all. Sweet dreams.
C
Wouldn't it be funny if the world ended in 2010, with lots of fire?
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Comments
I gotta ask though...where the hell was THIS kind of emotion and stuff when he was doing this new album??? Maybe the lyrics would be better than a cheesy pop song had he channeled some of THIS into his writing instead of letting hacks do most of his writing for him.
I think a couple of people have mentioned this in the other Cornell boards but I don't think he is making the call on his career anymore. It seems like his inlaws are calling the shots. Between this blog and the hidden track on the album, I think he is still capable of writing the songs he used to. Its sad he is surrounded by people that don't recongnize how talented he is.
Yeah and the blog, that is so sad :(
Every life is falling down
Brown to black, it's coming back
Dies to be part of the ground
Seed to seedling, root to stem
Very much agreed. I posted something similar in one of the other (many) Cornell threads. It's disgusting to see how Timbaland acts in these interviews with Chris; I pretty much get the impression that Timbo thinks Chris has put out 1 maybe 2 respectable albums, and that's he's some generic rock star, when in fact, he is probably one of the most iconic voices in rock history. Timbo may sell millions of albums, but who the fuck is he talent-wise compared to Cornell? And why is Cornell letting his wife control his career?????
That said, it probably doesn't really have a place in this particular thread.
8/25/92, 10/4/96, 10/5/96, 9/1/98, 9/4/98, 8/4/00, 8/6/00, 4/15/03, 4/16/03, 10/6/04, 6/16/08
amazing that Pearl Jam is really the ONLY band that became popular at the time and has remained together since with 80% of its original members! all the other enormously popular bands from that era either disappeared or went there separate ways...
us PJ fans are real lucky i guess~