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Nothing can take away these blues
I don't remember if I've mentioned before how I occasionally use certain songs to probe the fragility of my mental state. They usually have at least one one line or phrase in them that's guaranteed to make me cry. If I start choking up before then, I know it will be a challenging day. Sometimes I have no strong emotional reaction at all. In the past, I used to mistake that for "getting better". Now I know it's just a product of circumstance.
While getting ready this morning, I had an urge to listen to "Spinning Away" by John Cale and Brian Eno. The line that always gets me in that one is "Some kind of change, some kind of spinning away." But this morning it prompted no reaction at all. That was a relief; I spent most of Sunday bereft of any desire to do anything and I worried I might be entering another extended funk.
Then I was lunching at a diner near campus, doing my best to ignore the piped-in cheese-rock so I could read The Economist, when I was ambushed by "Nothing Compares 2 U". One minute, everyone was Kung Fu Fighting; the next, Sinéad O'Connor was singing to me about boundless loss and I had to stop what I was doing and stare out the window at the dead leaves of the oaks to keep from losing it right there in the restaurant.
Grief always finds a way to confound your expectations. Last year I feared Thanksgiving would be brutal so I was pleasantly relieved when it wasn't. This year I expected another smooth ride. Looks like I should've been more cautious.
While getting ready this morning, I had an urge to listen to "Spinning Away" by John Cale and Brian Eno. The line that always gets me in that one is "Some kind of change, some kind of spinning away." But this morning it prompted no reaction at all. That was a relief; I spent most of Sunday bereft of any desire to do anything and I worried I might be entering another extended funk.
Then I was lunching at a diner near campus, doing my best to ignore the piped-in cheese-rock so I could read The Economist, when I was ambushed by "Nothing Compares 2 U". One minute, everyone was Kung Fu Fighting; the next, Sinéad O'Connor was singing to me about boundless loss and I had to stop what I was doing and stare out the window at the dead leaves of the oaks to keep from losing it right there in the restaurant.
Grief always finds a way to confound your expectations. Last year I feared Thanksgiving would be brutal so I was pleasantly relieved when it wasn't. This year I expected another smooth ride. Looks like I should've been more cautious.