Today I met with my therapist. I told him that I’ve been writing a lot on my laptop about things in the past and how writing has conjured up new emotions and new perspectives and possibilities, just by virtue of writing. There’s no seance or voodoo magic to it, just typing on a keyboard and letting the mind go free, almost like a slightly different brain wave of consciousness - similar to being in the shower in the morning.
Therapist asked if I would ever publish it and remarked that I had lived quite an eventful life. I told him never would I publish. First, I’m not wild about everybody knowing everything about me. Even using a pen name, a determined person or one familiar with my odyssey might be able to flush me out of anonymity. Second, it’s my belief that I drove my father to kill himself, and making money off his death seems wrong to me, practically blood money. People tell me that’s not the case and a child doesn’t have that power and blah blah, but I know me, and I know what I did and what my motives and aspirations were, so we’re not going to debate that here or anywhere else.
Woah, sorry for going off the tracks. I’d vote no, keep your songs to yourself and family. It’s intimate and personal, and like it or not, if you put it on the web, it’ll be there forever. Some jackass may come across it and roll it into a mashup and totally humiliate you. Maybe I’m just guarded about personal grief, but I would not open that door to possibly let that walk through. My two cents.