Whew! I made it through the week. I get to play music for drunks and such tonight. This is what I live for, at least it is what I believe I live for. I am no fun in the morning in general and especially on Saturday. My reputation as an AM asshole is well established. I "slept in" until 9:45 and got up to find the step-child had no breakfast nor did the old lady with blood sugar issues(same as me maybe because she is a bear in the morning and I am not talking hairy man) I guess it is my job to make sure everyone has food at a regular time since I have no "job" nor McJob to go to, I am a "no go to" guy.
A reminder to my own ego
I do have experience and some small bits of wisdom but it is not any special type of wisdom or experience to savor or to preserve. To some, my floudering around for 30 years as a sideman may seem to have some romantic value. Why am I writing a blog instead of new songs for the world to sing? I guess this exercise in self expression aka rant/blog is my way of finding a slight bit of meaning here on earth with this body that carries me about the world.
Yes I should be grateful. Gratitude is a wonderful way of grounding and mellowing my doshas. Unfortunately, I am suffering from IMS (Irritable Male Syndrome) and any small event is taken as threat to my masculine identity and since I have lost my job and status of a 6 1/2 year residency at the restaurant there is little really holding me here. At least this is how I feel on days/weeks like this. I know I am needed to help with the "family". Only the "family" is not my family. I guess the pain is in not being real or genuine just acting and going through the motions.I don't smile or laugh anymore(once a week really doesn't indicate an end to my clinical depression)How can I when I am such a hypocrite. My schooling and training has shown me how to live. I have these days of desirous craving not for material things like money and comfortable peace but for annihilation I crave the nothingness/emptiness of death because the temporary escapes/daily numbness do not help enough to give me hope or optimism. I wish I could muster the faith-like religious joy I project others may possess. Religion has left its' scars on my soul and my woundedness is salved by the muse which only appears through my whorns(whoring horns). It has been over 2 years since my last creation and I grieve my last blessed communion lost to anger grasping and neglect of my soul work. I sold out very cheaply for a few thrills. I await the end because I have lost the ability to see the future. One of my past therapists told me this is a clear symptom of depression. The loss of optimism.
The boy is afraid of me because he senses my pain and thinks it is anger. He has tried to heal me in his own way as has his mother but what science and professional assistance has not accomplished in years of therapy will not be alleviated by 3rd grade jokes and weekend gigs. These things help but they do not let me be free. I am a prisoner of my own ignorance my own desire to not follow the empty ways of the culture that poisons the planet including my own mind.
I am grateful for these insights but "insight without actions is wasted".
So how can I act besides angry and despondant? How about kind and compassionate? I have but there are limits and because of these limits I have an all or nothing sensation of failure. I have sinned fallen short of the goal and missed my opportunity to be an exemplar of kindness,clarity, and insight. By small efforts a change can be realized. I did better since I was "needed" this week and I had an extra gig so I didn't have to sell myself to others or choke back tears in front of strangers. Thank you for this small blessing. I got what I wanted so I was nice. How nice am I when things are not going my way? Like every Saturday morning when my kitchen space is encroached upon? I have a long way to go if I choose to keep fighting this beast. If I was uglier maybe as ugly as the depression makes me feel people wouldn't mistake me for normal. Hey he's funny. Most comedy comes from the agony of being. Yes I am hilarious. It's one of the blessings from being on the edge.
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