It’s day 242 of writing these daily posts, so what the hell is there left to say? I can’t bring myself to talk about work anymore. It’s busy. It’s interesting. It’s different. It’s going well.
I also need to take a break from the grief and the sadness until the end of this week. So where doe that leave me?
I am listening to The Smiths for reasons I don’t feel I need to explain.
"How can they look into my eyes
And still they don't believe me
How can they hear me say those words
And still they don't believe me..."
Transported back in time- I am twelve years old and listening to the album on vinyl on my dad’s stereo. There is no one home, because both my parents are at work. The music is louder than my mom would like if she were home. I am dancing in a way that kids at school would call ‘faggy” if they saw, and I might be wearing some lipstick. It’s alone time with music and nothing else ever matters at times like this. The world makes sense alone with loud music.
"Oh has the world changed, or have I changed?
Oh has the world changed, or have I changed?"
Morrissey is coming to Singapore, and although I spent many afternoons lost in the music of The Smiths, I have no desire to see him. He has lost his appeal. But playing these old songs tonight has been fun.
…
I am surrounded by a dull numbness. A writer’s block that demands to be fed, but refuses any sustenance. It is not attached to any emotional baggage. I have been honest and clear with myself about the tension of my new job and the process of grieving Karen’s passing.
All of that feels under control, but when I remove those things, there seems to be little left at my core and so writing about other things feels like a chore.
I think I need to refill my core with some things other than grief and work. This week will be a challenge with a particularly busy week, followed by my trip to California, but I am on the market for some new things on which to dwell.
A project. Some art to absorb. Perhaps a better book. I need to get back into my running routine.
"Please, please, please let me get what I want this time..."
What do you fill your core with?
I also need to take a break from the grief and the sadness until the end of this week. So where doe that leave me?
I am listening to The Smiths for reasons I don’t feel I need to explain.
"How can they look into my eyes
And still they don't believe me
How can they hear me say those words
And still they don't believe me..."
Transported back in time- I am twelve years old and listening to the album on vinyl on my dad’s stereo. There is no one home, because both my parents are at work. The music is louder than my mom would like if she were home. I am dancing in a way that kids at school would call ‘faggy” if they saw, and I might be wearing some lipstick. It’s alone time with music and nothing else ever matters at times like this. The world makes sense alone with loud music.
"Oh has the world changed, or have I changed?
Oh has the world changed, or have I changed?"
Morrissey is coming to Singapore, and although I spent many afternoons lost in the music of The Smiths, I have no desire to see him. He has lost his appeal. But playing these old songs tonight has been fun.
…
I am surrounded by a dull numbness. A writer’s block that demands to be fed, but refuses any sustenance. It is not attached to any emotional baggage. I have been honest and clear with myself about the tension of my new job and the process of grieving Karen’s passing.
All of that feels under control, but when I remove those things, there seems to be little left at my core and so writing about other things feels like a chore.
I think I need to refill my core with some things other than grief and work. This week will be a challenge with a particularly busy week, followed by my trip to California, but I am on the market for some new things on which to dwell.
A project. Some art to absorb. Perhaps a better book. I need to get back into my running routine.
"Please, please, please let me get what I want this time..."
What do you fill your core with?
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