It's been a shit week. It's been a great week, honestly, I've got so much done, made so much progress, solved many problems and had much success. And yet it was a painful one. And today, a good friend of mine expressed it. "It takes away time of happiness." He's had the same experience as I, his child being taken away by the mother, emotional abuse, blackmailing, the whole story. As with everyone who didn't give up on the child, but was given up on, his relationship with the child is great now. The hope.
But until then...
It's a mess. I have a perfect life. Enough problems to keep me busy, included. Great partner, great friends, family, community, business, you name it. Yet I can't enjoy it. That one thing takes away the happiness. I wished to see it mechanically. Rationally. Due process, overdue, long due here in Ecuador, as everything moves incredibly slowly. I'm beginning to understand why corruption is so widespread. Nobody does their job just because they get a regular pay.
"Dig deep. Dig deeper." Johnossi is a mess of an album. Hilariously incoherently coherent, serious to the death. It's a shame that only "Men must Dance" made the charts, probably the cleanest song of the album. They grasp life in such a magnificent way. Chaos in simplicity. The lack of production, polishing, makes it so amazing. It's rough. Not artificially rough. As many bands, the more they get produced, the more they lose essence.
I really want to press hold and color the grey, but all my dreams collide. Lost yet again, choking on choices. Freedom wanting to pass into possibility, looking down its own throat. The near-perfect life I'm privileged with comes with way too much power, opening up possibilities, good and bad. The constantly self-examining mind doesn't help. There is no easy out.
On this lonely road girl, that I'm on
And I will walk here until the end of time
If you don't send a rescue team
But I ain't really sure if I want you to
No, I ain't really sure if I want you to
Perhaps I'd rather be on my own
No, I don't think I want you to carry me home
I have to carry myself. I want to carry myself. I just wonder. How would it feel to be carried? Be dead weight? I've never found the courage to find out. I rather carry as much as I'm being carried, in varying proportions. My happiness might be restrained these days, but it's not lost. It would be, one day, if I don't stop losing myself. I'm working on that. Not very successfully, I still feel like in the downwards spiral. But maybe the bottom is near.
Post written for the #saturdayselections by Galenkp inviting us to share music in the Weekend Experiences community on Saturdays.
Please feel free to engage in any original way, including dropping links to your posts on similar topics. I'm happy to read (and curate) any quality content that is not created by LLM/AI.
