Otis Musings

All my life, Otis Redding has let me feel what I try not to know.

In many way, his voice allows me to live, to hope and to dream.

I would say Otis is a guardian angel for my prostituted soul.

I played Memphis soul to soothe my soul, Stax was by my side as I try to know I was still human.

I could not bear reggae, Barry White and other soul made to drown the constant rapes and torturing that was my norm.

No, to get life back into the rawness of Otis, and the deep emotions that brought me back to reality.

Otis give me a voice, give me tears, give a will to stay alive.

Music was everywhere in my prostituted existence.

I closed out music as much as I could.

Reggae was in the room above the pub, where I dance as punters fingered, pawed and took me to private rooms to be fucked into being nothing.

Barry White was played by punters who called themselves gentlemen, as they kill all my will to live.

Irish music drowned out my pain and terror as in an Irish pub, I was fucked in the toilet or by the bins.

I grow to hate music – but never Stax, gospel, Northern Soul or jazz.

I stopped listening to the top hits or watching Tops of the Pops, I could let in Motown or pop from 60’s to my time.

I throw away my love of musicals, ballet music and Mozart.

I could bear “cheerful” music, it was too painful.

I grow to know the Blues, understand the depths of raw soul music, and to let be-bop ease my fear and agony.

Charlie Parker give a will to find some way out, John Lee Hooker allow pain and grief space to breathe, and Otis soothe me back to the time when I was never prostituted.

Now, I love most music. Now I not afraid to feel or be alive.

I still find reggae and Barry White unbearable – but then there so much other music for me to listen to that is of no matter.

I am fully alive, and that is wonderful.


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