Unexpected Insufficiency of The Blues
Sunday.
The phone stubbornly refuses to ring.
Rain. A day suitable to my mood. Yet it is a light patter, merely a springtime shower. Not dismal and gloomy with lowering clouds and rumbling echoes of thunder. Rather, a virtually pleasant drizzle. I’m almost irritated that the weather declines to accommodate my disposition today.
I am listening to an amalgam of Depeche Mode and Pink Floyd, my favorite ambiance when I feel like indulging in a good bout of moodiness. Thus far, “Personal Jesus” does not leave me bereft, but will “Wish You Were Here” have the same effect? I wait almost anxiously to find out. A little cannabis and caffeine ease the interval as I do mundane chores like vacuum, clean the toilet, and laundry. I still haven’t watched Pulp Fiction, but it waits with aplomb.
Ah, here it comes, “Shine on you Crazy Diamond” part 2, but it soothes my soul instead of savaging it. I desperately want to vacuum the living room but it is sacrilege to put this on mute. During “Goodbye Blue Sky” I am drawn irresistibly…. somewhere. I sit on a stool near the stereo, look upon the newly green pastures of my domain and think I could be experiencing true angst. Will it temper me like a fine metal, or merely defeat me? Is it simply the sweet lonely guitar chords that draw my soul up close to the surface? Perhaps the realization that for me this music distills years of sorrows into a fine brew. As long as I’m going to be melancholy, I want to wallow in it. I can’t write fast enough, losing bits in the translation of thought to paper.
Things are nearing crisis state. Not so much outwardly, I am apparently giving off vibes of strength and fortitude, but inward is only chaos. I must be on the cusp of something, but desperately afraid of all my visible options. Maybe one of these paths will lead to a new, improved me, but which one? Besides, I’m deathly afraid of her, too.
I’ve never written so much in my life. What broke the dam? Why didn’t I ever notice there was a dam? Did I even give a damn?
Sidebar #1 – The Spawn
She will snap if even mildly provoked – “leave me ‘LONE!” she retorts with a shove. SLAM goes her bedroom door. She is 2 ½. What will 10 years bring? She is so like her father. She is so like me. What determines personality? Because I swear she was like this from the moment she first drew air. Her cousin, 2 days younger, same blonde blue-eyed cherub material, is the polar opposite. Molly will park in your lap rather like a huge, boneless ham – heavy, inert, content. Holding my daughter is like grasping a wriggling tiger cub.
Sidebar #2 – Magazines I subscribe to
Equus – articles like “Fencing Materials: A Buyer’s Guide”. A review for every conceivable kind of horse fence except mine (2 strands of electric wire.)
Parents – this month’s feature article “Best Advice – Raise a Healthy Eater in a Junk-Food World”. (Luckily a non-issue at this point. Kiddo will snarf up steamed broccoli, cauliflower, most veggies before she even starts on her favorite, hot dogs.)
There is a ghost rocking the swing in my yard.
Rather to my surprise and dismay, my bleak mood has lifted a bit. I had planned to spend an entire day nursing my melancholy. A feeling of satisfaction for a much-cleaner house displaces some of the aura. Still have to do the kitchen floor, but overall much better. I have decided that my bedroom is messy simply because by the time I finish cleaning the rest of the house, I just don’t have energy to tackle it. I change the sheets and pile clean, folded laundry on any available flat surface. That will have to do. I scrub the kitchen floor on my hands and knees, using pine scented cleaner.
The phone stubbornly refuses to ring.
I look back: I’ve written three pages of longhand. I use my own personal shorthand, and the script gets sloppier as I hurry to keep the pen in pace with my thoughts. Maybe it’s been festering long enough and if I can get it all out the hurt will heal.
My swing and my daughter’s swing are perfectly in sync as they sway in the wind. Odd.
My depression taunts me with its lenience.
The phone stubbornly refuses to ring.
Rain. A day suitable to my mood. Yet it is a light patter, merely a springtime shower. Not dismal and gloomy with lowering clouds and rumbling echoes of thunder. Rather, a virtually pleasant drizzle. I’m almost irritated that the weather declines to accommodate my disposition today.
I am listening to an amalgam of Depeche Mode and Pink Floyd, my favorite ambiance when I feel like indulging in a good bout of moodiness. Thus far, “Personal Jesus” does not leave me bereft, but will “Wish You Were Here” have the same effect? I wait almost anxiously to find out. A little cannabis and caffeine ease the interval as I do mundane chores like vacuum, clean the toilet, and laundry. I still haven’t watched Pulp Fiction, but it waits with aplomb.
Ah, here it comes, “Shine on you Crazy Diamond” part 2, but it soothes my soul instead of savaging it. I desperately want to vacuum the living room but it is sacrilege to put this on mute. During “Goodbye Blue Sky” I am drawn irresistibly…. somewhere. I sit on a stool near the stereo, look upon the newly green pastures of my domain and think I could be experiencing true angst. Will it temper me like a fine metal, or merely defeat me? Is it simply the sweet lonely guitar chords that draw my soul up close to the surface? Perhaps the realization that for me this music distills years of sorrows into a fine brew. As long as I’m going to be melancholy, I want to wallow in it. I can’t write fast enough, losing bits in the translation of thought to paper.
Things are nearing crisis state. Not so much outwardly, I am apparently giving off vibes of strength and fortitude, but inward is only chaos. I must be on the cusp of something, but desperately afraid of all my visible options. Maybe one of these paths will lead to a new, improved me, but which one? Besides, I’m deathly afraid of her, too.
I’ve never written so much in my life. What broke the dam? Why didn’t I ever notice there was a dam? Did I even give a damn?
Sidebar #1 – The Spawn
She will snap if even mildly provoked – “leave me ‘LONE!” she retorts with a shove. SLAM goes her bedroom door. She is 2 ½. What will 10 years bring? She is so like her father. She is so like me. What determines personality? Because I swear she was like this from the moment she first drew air. Her cousin, 2 days younger, same blonde blue-eyed cherub material, is the polar opposite. Molly will park in your lap rather like a huge, boneless ham – heavy, inert, content. Holding my daughter is like grasping a wriggling tiger cub.
Sidebar #2 – Magazines I subscribe to
Equus – articles like “Fencing Materials: A Buyer’s Guide”. A review for every conceivable kind of horse fence except mine (2 strands of electric wire.)
Parents – this month’s feature article “Best Advice – Raise a Healthy Eater in a Junk-Food World”. (Luckily a non-issue at this point. Kiddo will snarf up steamed broccoli, cauliflower, most veggies before she even starts on her favorite, hot dogs.)
There is a ghost rocking the swing in my yard.
Rather to my surprise and dismay, my bleak mood has lifted a bit. I had planned to spend an entire day nursing my melancholy. A feeling of satisfaction for a much-cleaner house displaces some of the aura. Still have to do the kitchen floor, but overall much better. I have decided that my bedroom is messy simply because by the time I finish cleaning the rest of the house, I just don’t have energy to tackle it. I change the sheets and pile clean, folded laundry on any available flat surface. That will have to do. I scrub the kitchen floor on my hands and knees, using pine scented cleaner.
The phone stubbornly refuses to ring.
I look back: I’ve written three pages of longhand. I use my own personal shorthand, and the script gets sloppier as I hurry to keep the pen in pace with my thoughts. Maybe it’s been festering long enough and if I can get it all out the hurt will heal.
My swing and my daughter’s swing are perfectly in sync as they sway in the wind. Odd.
My depression taunts me with its lenience.
posted by 40angst @ 10:36 AM
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