Acoustics
Good day, Wednesday, when I 'made an effort' to let things unfold as Existence saw fit. I was in Amsterdam, and when I exited the Central Station a huge cloud-mass loomed over the heart of the city.
Full belly dark clouds with warm light fanning down in soft beams.
It was awesome. Whole groups were waiting to cross the street and no one looked up but me so it felt like a private show. Beautiful.
On my way back I passed underneath the Rijksmuseum, welcomed by Vivaldi's Four Seasons (the acoustics under the vaulted ceiling of that dark passageway amazing), only it wasn't coming from a cd or speakers, but from three young guys on violin, accordion and tuba.
I stood, watched, listened and cried silently. Could have sobbed, felt it in my heart, especially when they moved on to Pachelbel's Canon, but I didn't. Just a few quiet tears. I bought their cd.
Meanwhile, the hermit-XXL period that started in spring 2012 continues, with occasional hiccups when I'm 'able' to use the computer and check my email before the accounts get deleted again.
On the one hand it seems that I'm sinking deeper and deeper, and I keep thinking "surely at some point there is no way but up". And then deeper.
On the other hand there is something in the middle of it which is steadying itself, and I imagine the mutable state of things like this: the image of what happens when you throw a rock in a pond, the rings peetering out, ever widening. So when the 'dark' periods - filled with fear, anxiety, stress, chaos, panic et cetera - seem to last longer, this is probably correct, with the sparks of insight/revelation so far between they're by now practically non-existent.
But that steadying.
Sometimes I try to feel hopeless, but nope. Can't do it without making a conscious effort and it won't keep. So I go on.
With complete 'artist block' - no pictures, poems, paintings - and by now probably having neglected my best friend into not wanting to be my friend anymore. But I did visit a woman in my home-town who was always so nice to me when I was a kid, she always made me feel welcome, and now, thirty years later, I stopped by and we hugged and talked and it was good.
So, you know, mixed things.
I also read Lunar Park by Bret Easton Ellis and while nearing the end the song "Demons" played on the radio, by James Morrison, and it was overwhelming. I was absolutely stunned. So I read his first book Less Than Zero, and it freed something in me.
The horrific things need to be as horrific as they are/were. (Musings about My Book.) Unapologetic. Radically accepting of evil thoughts, deeds, near-deeds, fantasies. As honest and truthful and neutral as possible.
If my writing seems jumbled and unclear, this might be an after-effect of a recent concussion. Or not. This was my fourth or fifth.
(I hit my head a lot. A sign to stop thinking so f*cking much? Who knows.) Concussion Nr 5: ze new fregrens.
After that I got a cold and other signs of a weakened immune-system (still), but I don't know what else I can do except just keep going.
No struggling, at least. Worrying about small things, yes, but also coming to accept everything about myself.
It's always been like this. Maybe typical Pisces with two opposite sides, maybe not.
- Did some work using a Dr Phil book from the thrift-shop. A lot of emotions surfaced, connected to certain events I've told people about in the past, but always in a disconnected way, without feeling it.
Now I did feel.
- Rearranged the living room and the shed, got stuff organized, sort of, but insanely so compared to what was before. Chaos has left the living room.
- Lost a few dress sizes, but won't diet, cos that's battling symptoms. When I'm not scared to be thin anymore I'll be thin again. Naturally so, without effort. When the time is right it'll be safe to walk around in that stunning hot body again. There's fear, because of all the incidents, and the fat is a protective layer, physically and mentally.
It will happen when the time is right, which is true for everything I guess.
This moved me: a cardboard sign in the window of a little shop in Amsterdam said "bon courage a tous".
Full belly dark clouds with warm light fanning down in soft beams.
It was awesome. Whole groups were waiting to cross the street and no one looked up but me so it felt like a private show. Beautiful.
On my way back I passed underneath the Rijksmuseum, welcomed by Vivaldi's Four Seasons (the acoustics under the vaulted ceiling of that dark passageway amazing), only it wasn't coming from a cd or speakers, but from three young guys on violin, accordion and tuba.
I stood, watched, listened and cried silently. Could have sobbed, felt it in my heart, especially when they moved on to Pachelbel's Canon, but I didn't. Just a few quiet tears. I bought their cd.
Meanwhile, the hermit-XXL period that started in spring 2012 continues, with occasional hiccups when I'm 'able' to use the computer and check my email before the accounts get deleted again.
On the one hand it seems that I'm sinking deeper and deeper, and I keep thinking "surely at some point there is no way but up". And then deeper.
On the other hand there is something in the middle of it which is steadying itself, and I imagine the mutable state of things like this: the image of what happens when you throw a rock in a pond, the rings peetering out, ever widening. So when the 'dark' periods - filled with fear, anxiety, stress, chaos, panic et cetera - seem to last longer, this is probably correct, with the sparks of insight/revelation so far between they're by now practically non-existent.
But that steadying.
Sometimes I try to feel hopeless, but nope. Can't do it without making a conscious effort and it won't keep. So I go on.
With complete 'artist block' - no pictures, poems, paintings - and by now probably having neglected my best friend into not wanting to be my friend anymore. But I did visit a woman in my home-town who was always so nice to me when I was a kid, she always made me feel welcome, and now, thirty years later, I stopped by and we hugged and talked and it was good.
So, you know, mixed things.
I also read Lunar Park by Bret Easton Ellis and while nearing the end the song "Demons" played on the radio, by James Morrison, and it was overwhelming. I was absolutely stunned. So I read his first book Less Than Zero, and it freed something in me.
The horrific things need to be as horrific as they are/were. (Musings about My Book.) Unapologetic. Radically accepting of evil thoughts, deeds, near-deeds, fantasies. As honest and truthful and neutral as possible.
If my writing seems jumbled and unclear, this might be an after-effect of a recent concussion. Or not. This was my fourth or fifth.
(I hit my head a lot. A sign to stop thinking so f*cking much? Who knows.) Concussion Nr 5: ze new fregrens.
After that I got a cold and other signs of a weakened immune-system (still), but I don't know what else I can do except just keep going.
No struggling, at least. Worrying about small things, yes, but also coming to accept everything about myself.
It's always been like this. Maybe typical Pisces with two opposite sides, maybe not.
- Did some work using a Dr Phil book from the thrift-shop. A lot of emotions surfaced, connected to certain events I've told people about in the past, but always in a disconnected way, without feeling it.
Now I did feel.
- Rearranged the living room and the shed, got stuff organized, sort of, but insanely so compared to what was before. Chaos has left the living room.
- Lost a few dress sizes, but won't diet, cos that's battling symptoms. When I'm not scared to be thin anymore I'll be thin again. Naturally so, without effort. When the time is right it'll be safe to walk around in that stunning hot body again. There's fear, because of all the incidents, and the fat is a protective layer, physically and mentally.
It will happen when the time is right, which is true for everything I guess.
This moved me: a cardboard sign in the window of a little shop in Amsterdam said "bon courage a tous".
posted by M. at 12:39 PM
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