i feel your pain.
I was telling a friend how I depressed I felt since the weekend, possibly brought on by the rudeness of strangers. I know, boo friggin hoo. I should get over myself before I make this a habit.
That isn't really the subject of this post, however. It's my friend's response: "A lot of people are feeling that way right now." As if it's contagious. As if depression can be transmitted airborne through a germ or pathogen. "It's been going around." Now I don't buy into any of this "mars in retrograde" or "the moon is in Pisces" crap that some of my friends might (which is okay because a lot of them don't buy into my "Jesus is the Son of God" crap either so it all works out), but he knows a lot of people, as may I, and I read a lot of blogs. A LOT of blogs. I can't help but agree that both online and outside I've noticed the same thing. I can't help but wonder why. Is it winter's stubbornness to leave? Are we merely sulking because of our extended exiles from the bitter cold that just keeps coming back? I almost hope so, because that means relief really is around the corner. On the other hand, I hate to think that all our moods are so fragile as to be dependent on the weather, especially in this town.
So I ended my day, last night, on this thought, walking home from Rodan where I heard a friend deejay. I walked home, of course, because I wanted to, because that's the way I muddle through thoughts like these. I let the iPod on shuffle to see if it would do that uncanny supernatural iPod thing where the song exactly fits the occasion; I swear it's clairvoyant, I swear that's the lure of Apple, they don't need this cruddy DRM software or iTunes music store, they have this secret technology, you see...
Where was I? Oh, yes, well that wasn't working last night, anyway. I wanted the weight of the world and all I was getting was Quasar Wut Wut, Dire Straits, Depeche Mode and the Orb. Maybe that was the iPod's way of telling me to cheer up.
Then the Beatles' "A Day in the Life" came on. I was already home, but I sat on my back porch and let it play through, looking out on what I could see of the west side and trying to get a sense of how many others felt the same or worse at that very moment. It sounds morbid, yes, but I suppose I was looking for catharsis. We all drink together, or blog together, watch TV, hang around the water cooler, sit on a couch in a cafe, but at the end of the day, the only thoughts we have are our own, even if we're laying next to someone else, the last thing we think before falling asleep is known by only ourselves. If there were a way to completely share our thoughts, to completely share our pain, no one would ever have to go to bed lonely. I sat there on my cold porch and thought of a constant party, where everyone's having fun and no one ever has to go home, and thought, that must be what heaven is like...
I sat on my porch and listened to the symphonic crescendo at the end of the song - you know the one, and if you don't, stop reading my blog. Just stop. Anyway, I imagined within that crescendo all the parties in the world joining together, all the thoughts and feelings and laughter merging into one cataclysmic celebration. I tried to imagine what that would feel like, I tried to feel it, as the symphony built higher and higher to the final note. I wished it wouldn't end, that it'd keep building, as I always do when I listen to that song. But of course the final piano chord silences the song like a coffin slamming shut and fades away, and with it all these vapid fancies disappear like so much wind and drizzle.
I'm sure it was just the beer.
Man I love that song.
* * * * *
I have to end with something entirely cynical to offset all this hippie BS, so I'll just say that those "You are beautiful" stickers that get stuck all over town and elsewhere in the world are a piece of crap. Come on, do you really think that's helping to make the world a better place? That it's somehow uplifting the general populace and creating joy where there's otherwise none by complimenting nobody in particular, at random, on a bike post? I think you're just wasting your money and paper, and littering the city. I'll take twenty.
listening to: madness.
in my sink: a pizza slicer.
That isn't really the subject of this post, however. It's my friend's response: "A lot of people are feeling that way right now." As if it's contagious. As if depression can be transmitted airborne through a germ or pathogen. "It's been going around." Now I don't buy into any of this "mars in retrograde" or "the moon is in Pisces" crap that some of my friends might (which is okay because a lot of them don't buy into my "Jesus is the Son of God" crap either so it all works out), but he knows a lot of people, as may I, and I read a lot of blogs. A LOT of blogs. I can't help but agree that both online and outside I've noticed the same thing. I can't help but wonder why. Is it winter's stubbornness to leave? Are we merely sulking because of our extended exiles from the bitter cold that just keeps coming back? I almost hope so, because that means relief really is around the corner. On the other hand, I hate to think that all our moods are so fragile as to be dependent on the weather, especially in this town.
So I ended my day, last night, on this thought, walking home from Rodan where I heard a friend deejay. I walked home, of course, because I wanted to, because that's the way I muddle through thoughts like these. I let the iPod on shuffle to see if it would do that uncanny supernatural iPod thing where the song exactly fits the occasion; I swear it's clairvoyant, I swear that's the lure of Apple, they don't need this cruddy DRM software or iTunes music store, they have this secret technology, you see...
Where was I? Oh, yes, well that wasn't working last night, anyway. I wanted the weight of the world and all I was getting was Quasar Wut Wut, Dire Straits, Depeche Mode and the Orb. Maybe that was the iPod's way of telling me to cheer up.
Then the Beatles' "A Day in the Life" came on. I was already home, but I sat on my back porch and let it play through, looking out on what I could see of the west side and trying to get a sense of how many others felt the same or worse at that very moment. It sounds morbid, yes, but I suppose I was looking for catharsis. We all drink together, or blog together, watch TV, hang around the water cooler, sit on a couch in a cafe, but at the end of the day, the only thoughts we have are our own, even if we're laying next to someone else, the last thing we think before falling asleep is known by only ourselves. If there were a way to completely share our thoughts, to completely share our pain, no one would ever have to go to bed lonely. I sat there on my cold porch and thought of a constant party, where everyone's having fun and no one ever has to go home, and thought, that must be what heaven is like...
I sat on my porch and listened to the symphonic crescendo at the end of the song - you know the one, and if you don't, stop reading my blog. Just stop. Anyway, I imagined within that crescendo all the parties in the world joining together, all the thoughts and feelings and laughter merging into one cataclysmic celebration. I tried to imagine what that would feel like, I tried to feel it, as the symphony built higher and higher to the final note. I wished it wouldn't end, that it'd keep building, as I always do when I listen to that song. But of course the final piano chord silences the song like a coffin slamming shut and fades away, and with it all these vapid fancies disappear like so much wind and drizzle.
I'm sure it was just the beer.
Man I love that song.
I have to end with something entirely cynical to offset all this hippie BS, so I'll just say that those "You are beautiful" stickers that get stuck all over town and elsewhere in the world are a piece of crap. Come on, do you really think that's helping to make the world a better place? That it's somehow uplifting the general populace and creating joy where there's otherwise none by complimenting nobody in particular, at random, on a bike post? I think you're just wasting your money and paper, and littering the city. I'll take twenty.
listening to: madness.
in my sink: a pizza slicer.
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