Wham! I think I have hit the wall.
Did I make a joke: People say the grief process goes: denial, anger, and so forth. And that I have jumped straight over denial into anger. I don’t think there is a so called grief process. Hell, there’s just grief and more or less of it. Today, I seem to be at the more rather than less stage.
For a while I had this sort of hectic energy as if deep down inside of me I had this little engine running that just wouldn’t shut off. To rest, one needs to relax, but this little engine wasn’t letting me relax. Well, now the engine has stopped and the result is not relaxation but generalized misery, approaching my old colleague torpid depression in which the meaning of it all become elusive.
I woke up vexing myself about the political and emotional correctness of a song I wrote yesterday. Perhaps it was a signal that the engine was shutting down.
The last stanza goes:
Old Buddha say the worst thing is to be born
I guess that makes old Buddha seem pretty damn forlorn
But maybe that old Buddha was onto something we forgot
Being dead is easy; it’s life that is the shock
A big wind comes straight out of nowhere
And knocks down anything that is standing there
If you are alive right now
You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time….
So I start chastising myself for suggeting maybe life itself is a horrid mistake and nothingness is better. And so I should change the lyric, if I had the energy to do it, to something more upbeat. Talk about a loss of perspective…
Big Wind. It’s an MP3.
