Music Soothes The Savage In Us, Releases The Primitive, Cages The Demons And Is The Memory We Can Always Count On

It is ironic what can make your heart bleed, isn’t it? For some people it is things that bring happiness and joy, for others, it is that which devastates and brings agony. Most of us are a combination of these things, however. For me, it is music. Music is that which does both for me. I have songs for virtually every mood I am in and the mood that I want to be in. What the music is isn’t so important to this as knowing there is a medium that conveys, nearly perfectly, everything you feel in life. Not everything, no, but enough to call it a majority by a landslide.

The plurality of the available options is staggering, even from the most modern artists. The farther back in time one goes the more exponential the number of things that can be conveyed. Or, and this is a thing that I think is wonderful beyond words, two people can listen to the same song and have diametrically opposite feelings towards it. You can hear me laughing over your weeping and you can see my sobs even as your skin crawls in ecstasy.

Words, while directly describing the feelings from time to time, are not a necessary element. Anyone who has ever listened to Adagio for Strings as arranged by Samuel Barber and felt it the way a great many do knows precisely what this means. Or when you are listening to the bass of the 1812 Overture as the cannons fire over and over or even when you hear the synthesized bass drops of Dubstep. Words may make it easier for things to be understood, but when you feel a song in the center of your soul, you will feel it whether or not it has words or not, I promise.

Examples.

When I listen to Cry Baby by Janis Joplin, even as I type it in fact, I start to tear up because, of all the demons my mother had in her life, and they were nearly infinite, that woman had a phenomenal taste in music and she passed it to her children. Being the hippie of the family, the folk and acid jazz from the sixties were my birthright and it is one of the few things I can thank my mother for without shaking my head in pain or rolling my eyes with sarcasm. Now while every song in the ten years that were the sixties is not known to me of course, enough are that I can close my eyes and remember the scant memories of childhood that are not contaminated with the foulness of everyday life they were dispersed in.

Couples have songs that they call their own. Whether it is in a laughing way or a way that makes you nearly see their love for one another, they are foundational characteristics of the relationship. My own are near and dear to me and I will not name them, it is one of the few things I keep very safe in a very clean room in the back of my mind that I go and sit in at least once a day with my eyes closed and allow myself to remember and feel everything and anything that was Naomi. I cannot do it all day or else I would be nearly catatonic, but when I need to find respite, even for a moment when the world has told me I am a failure for the hundredth time that day, I think of that room and I crawl to it and listen to these songs and smile with a purity I do not deserve.

I did not forget the anger. Music is a very good conductor of this often misunderstood emotion. It is not good to be violent at all times nor is it healthy to be angry at all times. However there are times when you can release that anger into the world, sometimes even by putting the headphones a little tighter, turning up the music a little louder and letting all of your emotions flow as the music takes away from you the foulness that you do not need and have never deserved.

So I ask you, all of you, during this time when we are all, hopefully, distanced from one another physically to tell me your songs that are the balm for your soul if you are comfortable sharing them. Or, if you are not, then simply listen to one of them when you can and find yourself in your own clean room in your mind and heart remembering that which deserves to be remembered the very most.

The Mind Of An Introvert In Consensual, Non-Consensual, Social Isolation – Day The Wednesday

So, when I am in a position where I am forced to think even more than I normally do, such as being in the same room for forty and fifty hours at a time, I try to think of things I can say to people who are, in this case at least, in a similar situation, to see if I can help their brains as they are all so very good at helping me every single time I ask, which is so very often.

I try to think of ways to tell them how they are appreciated and how I value them in all the ways I do. Except, in my head at least, it all gets to be this repetitive, trite-sounding, mealy-mouthed words that I say over and over again. Which, as you can imagine, does nothing for the airplane taking off in my head demanding to fix the problem that I am having and say the things I need to say to make the feelings feel the way the feelings should feel and all of that.

So then I try to over-explain what I feel to these people and it ends up this gigantic clusterfuck of nothing and everything and whatever message I was originally trying for is so hopelessly lost in the barrage of bullshit being projected from my mouth that I need to just stop and waddle, humiliated, over to my dark corner of the world.

So, instead, I am going to just vomit all of this up and hopefully, you can sift through the detritus, flotsam, and jetsam of it all and see if any of it applies to you.

I know I have been a live nerve for the last few months. I know I have been annoying and moodier than even I normally am and this raging ball of bullshit, but it is who I am. All of y’all taught me not to apologize for being me so I won’t do that. I do want to say that I know that I have said some fucked up things to some of you and I am so very sorry for doing that.

I want to tell you that there is no way I could have survived, at least mentally, this COVID-19 thing without the help of the awesome science humans I know who sat me down and very carefully explained to me why some of my fears were misplaced and, yes, why some of them were in fact very real. It allowed me to get prepared in a good way and not panic and buy 37 cases of toilet paper and no food. These people helped me make sure my babies were safe and taken care of from this thing in the ways that they needed to be.

I want to tell my best friend that I think that she is a goddamn superhero who puts up with my shit way more than any other living thing in the world combined. I do not deserve her in my life in the slightest and the fact that she can somehow make the entirety of the world stop spinning so I can do a simple thing like laugh means more to me than I can easily express without, well, doing things like this.

My friends whom I text at the ungodly times of the morning, the friends with kids who still take the time to make sure I am OK, the friends whose lives are just as chaotic, if not more so, than mine is. The heroes that still go to work outside their home in this, the champions that are working from home still. The mothers and sisters, brothers and nieces that have adopted me just as much as I have adopted them.

People who I have known forever and people I am only now getting to truly know, you have shown compassion to me and mine and while I will never believe I deserve it, I appreciate it more than you can ever possibly fathom.

Thank you for being the net I fall into every time the world gets to be chaos and I can’t accept that.

Loves

The Mind Of An Introvert In Consensual, Non-Consensual, Social Isolation – Day The Tuesday

I had to go out today. Well, I mean, I didn’t but I did. I went to CVS with Terry to get prescriptions and while I was there I might have bought $40 worth of candy, that I then totally wiped down and sterilized as soon as I got home, then repeated the procedure on myself.

After this, if there is an after this, if I ever see a goddamn baby wipe that isn’t being used to wipe a fucking baby I am going to make it scream in pain like the ashen palms of my hands are screaming as we speak.

A weird sentence I know.

You will note the longer I am in the same house with my children I will become more and more prolific in my writing until a point where I cannot promise that food and water will be as important to me as the tactile orgasm of this little wireless keyboard I have sitting on top of the dead keyboard on this busted ass laptop.

I love my children and them being home is not the issue, not at all. Shit, if you know me at all you know I keep[ my Ducks home too much rather than the other way around. No, the issue is that it is all forced like this.

Now I am not saying we should leave the house, because fuck and that, #StayTheFuckHome.

No, I agree with all of the restrictions if it keeps my Ducks even the most minute amount safer during all of this. Yes, it is inconvenient and annoying to everyone. Yes, I know we are in an economic tailspin, but how are we supposed to be not those things if enough of us get this thing where it is 30, 40, 50 percent unemployment for two decades until the age gap closes again?

I am drinking too much coffee, emotionally eating way too much food and going to bed too late and not getting a lick of sleep until way too early in the morning. It makes for long days, trying days, annoying days.

However, I, like many of you, know someone who has to work in all of this chaos. I know nurses who I cannot imagine are anything short of both terrified and fucking superheroes. Mothers who are so scared they are brave, fathers who are trying everything they can to assuage fears they feel just as strongly.

It can always get fucking worse.

Or, if you are of a slightly Jesus tilt, just remember the old adage. “There but for the Grace of God, go I.” Savor the sweet moments, be strong through the roughest waves, be kind and compassionate to those who do not have the ability to sit at home and work and, most importantly.

Remember this was, at least in part, avoidable and get your ass out to the polls in November, even if you do have to be six feet apart still.

I Could Tell You What This Is About, But That Would Require Me To Know That Pertinent Detail.

Rather than write the utterly banal attempt of comedy I was about to try and write, I decided that hey, Theology sounds like a good substitute for comedy. I mean, who doesn’t want to learn about some random dudes personalized system of daily belief structure explained within an ever-shifting and even more personal metaphor. I know I’m all in!

Life is all about balance. I am not the first nor will I be the last person to say this at all. I think good and evil is a little too bland and vague for the purposes of it though, balance is maintained, and destroyed, by two groups whom by their very nature are exact opposites. I will simplify the internal monologue shit and call them the Givers and the Takers.

Those who Give, as you can imagine, are generous by nature. They give love, compassion, kindness, and grace in addition to the material things of the world that they can spare. Those who take not only take all of those things that those who Give offer, but they take that which is not offered freely, such as your time, your patience, your energy and even your very will.

In the middle of all of this, or I should say containing all of this, is The Fulcrum. It is that which must be balanced. It is life and death, hope and fear, love and resentment. It is existence and what comes after. It is everything and anything you can imagine.

I know I lost a bunch of you, and that is okay. My hippie loving, barefoot needing, not so much of a granola fan, self is not for anyone other than me. I am writing this mainly as a thing to do and not as a means of proselytizing in any way whatsoever. I have done the Shepard thing, y’all can have that job and the collar that comes with it. I am writing because writing is what I do. It is my Zen, my Center and it is all good if you skip this and head over to the beheading things…..yeah that’s totally coming next.

It sounds familiar you say? That’s because I stole most of it from Stephen King, Heinlein, a little crazy from Hubbard and the rest from some Germanic deities you may have heard of if you know the days of the week in the English language.

What else though, is that overall of that is the Goddess entire. If the Fulcrum is existence, she is that which carries it in her arms. My views of the Goddess are different than other people because religion is supposed to be a highly individualized, sacred, and personal thing. That includes not having one at all I may add, free will works that way for a reason.

I know I am rambling now, I might as well go with it though.

When I close my eyes each night, I see the Goddess, My Goddess, in the eyes over every woman I have ever loved combined in a beautiful framework I will not begin to try to explain while not royally stoned. I am not free to name names here, but know that if you identify as female and I have told you I love you, then you are in this framework of my personal eternity. Sorry if that totes creeps you out, it is the way it is?

That was rude.

I internalize everything see. It is how I process. The problem with the way I do it is that I both internalize too quickly and I never get any of it out. If you have ever tried to follow my metaphor of the planes you may have a clue what I am talking about here. If not, well, picture every picture you ever looked at being cataloged, but with no index, no reference and no clue as to how to look though, search through or even get rid of the damn thing.

It is, for example, why I can still remember the song I made for all ten of my ex-wife’s toes, the entire second act of Hamlet verbatim and how to exorcise in three languages. I am not boasting, I want to dump it, if y’all have ideas on how to do a hard format of that shit, I would really appreciate a nice reload of the brain.

So now I have taken up a few minutes of your time, I have written for maybe six minutes on my end and I can finally go and half that delightful fourth cup of coffee at ten minutes after three in the afternoon.

Vive La Différence!

One By One The Dominoes Are Toppling Down, Cascading Chaos Into The Unknown

I am in a mood this morning. I don’t know what that mood is just yet, I just feel off. I am not mad or sad, which I suppose one has to chalk up to good news, but neither am I happy or joyous. I didn’t get a great deal of sleep last night and what I did get was populated with the damn airplanes that I can’t control when I am awake. Swirling over my head, between my legs, and every other place one can fit a plane or an innuendo.

It is obvious as to why just look at the world burning and you will see precisely why I feel off. The president is somehow an even more blatant racist than he has been in the past, the vice-president wants to pray the disease that is killing people away and all the rest of the government is toppling like dominoes set up by a very angry three year old who can’t quite figure out that sometimes shit needs to be standing to work the best.

I am sitting here with my Ducks though. All three unscathed, as are Terry and myself and at the end of the day I suppose that is what counts when you want to add everything up isn’t it? I won’t tell jokes about introverts and social distancing, but let’s just say this isn’t particularly hard for me to do by a long shot. I finally am using my Netflix subscription to its full potential and I remembered that I haven’t watched anything off of the Disney+ subscription I pay for. So maybe I will binge early eighties Disney movies and find out how many subliminal messages I can find without including ones I have already seen.

Reading has been happening more that it has been in quite some time and it gives me a measure of peace to break open a book, with paper and a spine, and smell that glorious mixture of all the things that make it up. I am going to start Dune tonight I think, mostly because when most people are depressed they read books on far-future philosophy and religious dogma, right? Then The Count Of Monte Cristo. I have loved it since I was as wee a bear as I ever was and it demands to be read from time to time, yes, even the huge chunks about French Revolution geopolitical theory.

Today I will write something new in the story department, I haven’t figure out what yet, but that is half the fun. It isn’t like I don’t have even more time than I normally do to do the things, right? Probably a one-off about something, or at least I will call it that and then figure out how to make a three dozen part series I will never finish.

For now, though, I am going to sit with my coffee, smile at my Ducks playing and contemplate the vastness of the Universe without particularly focusing on the microcosm of the present.

Rawrz