So I’ve been kinda fucked up lately. With the news. Like, really kinda fucked up. As in, I am really needing to go to therapy on Saturday. I want to clarify: I’m not in a dangerous place. But over the last few weeks, with news shit really starting to get, like, absurd, I’ve been aware of my face having the sort of thousand-yard stare that can accompany the late stages of devastated, turn-out-the-lights-and-listen-to-Disintegration-over-headphones teenaged heartache. There’s really no other word for it than sad. But in a really deep, really fucked up, please get me offa this thing sort of way.
We all have different coping mechanisms. I’ve been too frazzled to play video games lately, which is frustrating. I’ve been reading very escapist fiction, but only a chapter or two at a time – and I’m also reading two collections of short stories, and alternating between all three or four at any given time. I can’t focus, is what I’m saying. I get home, I put Henry to bed, I kiss my wife, and then I get just sad and also perhaps a little or a lot very stoned in my basement while I listen to music or try to think about maybe one day writing lyrics to songs that I haven’t finished recording from three years ago.
SUDDEN TANGENT: You know what, fuck it. It’s killing me that I haven’t finished this album after all this time, and so I need to do something about it. All these tracks have been slowly burning tiny holes in my iPhone since 2015. So rather than release a B-side of a B-side, I’m gonna throw on one of the stuff that I actually really like and still intend to finish.
So this thing right here is a loop I recorded on a 4-track through my looping pedal in, like, 2001.
So that’s a thing I’ve always kinda liked. I later reworked into a bridge section for a latter-day Good Evening song in 2006-7, and then I kinda just kept it in the back of my mind; when I signed up for the RPM challenge in 2015, and for lack of any better ideas, I decided to revisit it and see if I could fit it into something new. I never did find a definitive beginning and/or end to it, but the section itself still sounds quite lovely to me:
And then this other thing, which is just a fun doodle of an idea that is perhaps too-obviously informed by The Forms, also happens to be the most recent substantial thing I’ve recorded here in Maplewood, (but again, that only means November 2015):
OK. You are now the first people in the world (aside from 3-4 beta listeners from three years ago) to have heard that. Thank you for indulging me. I HAVE PLENTY MORE AND WILL PUT THEM UP, PERHAPS LATER IN THIS VERY POST THAT I AM PROCRASTINATING FROM FINISHING.
So I’ve been sad, is the thing, and it’s frustrating as all hell, because it’s a sadness that exists beyond me; it’s not a sadness that I can control. It is a sadness of the very reality that we are currently living in, more specifically the cruel feeling of hopelessness about it all, and that even with the amazing and surprising and good-heart-feeling election victory of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, it’s immediately driven back by the 1-2 punch of the SCOTUS mess and the mass shooting at a Maryland newspaper (which, I want to make clear, I’m writing this at 9:23 while very stoned and don’t yet know if a motive has been uncovered – the more important issue is that, in the words of @igorvolsky, “any motive + easy access to firearms = death & horror.”
And so anyway, about half an hour ago or so I went upstairs to pee and get some ice cream because I’m sad and binge-eating and munched out and I was looking at Facebook and saw this video.
Now, look. I think Donald Trump is, perhaps, the most dangerous man in American history. He is vile and repellant and morally unfit and profoundly unethical and we all know it. There isn’t a day that goes by lately where I don’t spend my day within a deep and disturbing dread that something truly awful is about to happen.
But the thing I find most loathsome about him – despite his endless blustering and bravado and chest-bumping – is that he’s a fucking coward. This shooting in Maryland is tragic and horrible and he is so scared about having to deal with a real crisis that he just keeps on walking. He’s the President of the United States, don’t tell me he didn’t yet know. He absolutely knew. And he was too scared to speak to the press to offer any words of condolences. He has no empathy for other human beings in pain, and so there is nothing for him to gain out of offering solace to the grieving. So he just walks away.
I was going to get into a whole big rant about it. I was gonna just vent and spew and vomit all over the internet. This is a very small and insignificant part of the internet, the whole of which you’d never call pristine, but whatever – now I’ve just covered my little tiny part of it in venom.
Then I decided to not do that. Maybe I’d write about not writing. Because even though I’m hurting, I don’t know that throwing my hurt onto you is the right thing. I’m not saying I should be keeping this to myself – like I said above, I’m really looking forward to Saturday morning’s therapy session. And so I worry about having my only contribution to this shrieking nightmare to simply be another lonely howl at the moon.
I think what I really needed to do is just tell you guys that I love you. Times are fucking terrible right now, man, and it fucking sucks. But you’re not alone. I’m not alone. We’re not alone. I love you guys. I need to remember to love you guys more. I need to remember to keep love in my heart.
(And then, after some cleansing breaths, I say: if they go low, continue to kick them in the face.)