Belly Full of Teeth…

is the name of one of Owen’s first musical compositions.  He shared it with Lea before anyone else.  I didn’t even remember it, until she mentioned it many weeks ago, and then I found the lyrics in one of his journals.  This was from the San Diego days, and he played the song for her on one her stays with us on Tipton Street.

Back in February or March of this year, Owen asked me to help him edit his poetry.  I said I would, and that if he wanted, I would help him get it published.  After he died, and I was looking through all of his computer files, I found that he had actually edited his own poetry, and, that he was quite good at it. 

One of the reasons for this blog, is to share some of Owen’s writing.  The time has not yet come when I can do that.  As long as the police investigation is ongoing, I refuse to share his private thoughts.  The time will come, but we may choose to post his writing to a website, which is still under construction. 

Lea went to her studio yesterday thinking she would begin a new painting, called “88 Days on Mercury” but when she got there, she picked up her guitar, instead of a paint brush.  She wrote a song of the same title, and went to a different place than her plans had led her to believe would fulfill her day.

When she called me last night, we were both pretty wiped out.  She had had a tough day of Owen memories, and I had had the same.  Every day is full of Owen memories, and we have the added component of work pressures that don’t always support our personal point in time.  Our conversation was emotional, grief-stricken, and full of what-ifs.  Not all that different from any other day, except we were both exhausted and having physical problems.

This morning, when we talked, Lea recited the words to “88 Days on Mercury” as I was driving to work, and I cried.  Her painting yesterday was of the musical sort, not the paint and canvas sort.  Expression takes its own course, despite our plans.

“Belly Full of Teeth” was its own point in time for Owen, when I believe he felt out of sync with the support he needed.  He plowed through that stage of his life, and kept writing, composing, and practicing technique.  There came a time, when he cared less for technique, and more for the message. 

I have often wondered what a belly full of teeth would feel like, to a young man of 16.  I can’t imagine.  But, I can guess that it was painful - the title is unmistakable as metaphor.  I also often wonder, what events prompted the pain, and how he dealt with it.  Music was most often his preferred form of therapy.  I’m thankful his Uncle Emmitt encouraged him, as did the rest of us, to keep playing, keep committing to the exercise of technique, but to never forget the message. 

Kurt Cobain didn’t exactly play the guitar for others’ impressions of his musical expertise, although he may have started out with that in mind.  He played for the message.  He was one of Owen’s many musical heroes.  And, I still listen to Nirvana with memories of car rides with Owen, while Kurt and company blasted our speakers.  Owen and I would simply shake our heads in the head-banging fashion, and then say, “Okay, see you after work” and go about our days or evenings with a belly full of teeth, and songs in our hearts.

I feel a heart-shaped box coming on…

http://youtube.com/watch?v=_9mJF1U3wRU&feature=related

~ by Linda on August 30, 2007.