Panic

I've been listening to Of Montreal's Satanic Panic in the Attic incessantly the past week or so.
It suits my mood, yet at the same time it makes me want to chew on glass. Odd.
(Added later, lyric excerpts from ...Erik Eckles and Your Magic is Working and Eros' Entropic Tundra)

And if you want me to
I'll help it's all the same to me
just tell me if you want me to

I'm not upset just confused and it's so tough
I can't relate to this world I'm not bored enough
Watch out the music will complete the change in you

How you've really changed me
from a guy thought too cynical for love
Suddenly I feel as light as a butterfly
and wanting to give love another try
Everything is beautiful and you are the reason

Without love life has no great reward
leaving us damaged or feeling so bored
Devoid of memories nothing to record
Wishing the ones that we adore loved us more

Chance taken

I took a chance. I left a stagnant relationship to jump into another one that I thought would go the distance.
And for a while, I thought that I did the right thing.
Everyone commented on how much happier I was.
And now that it has all come crashing down, I'm left wondering what mistakes I made. I'm wondering if I'll recover. Actually, no, I don't know if I want to recover. I just want to be knocked cold and buried alive.

Squirming

I think my frontal lobe is trying to escape. It's like my brain is squirming. What is in there to startle it so? Have I not been feeding it what it likes? That may be the problem. Not enough outside stimuli. Too many competing emotions assaulting the neurons; pathways collapsing and detoured through unfamiliar or long dormant territory. Maybe I just need to take a long walk in the wilderness. No, too much solitude. Need to be around people. Nobody calls me back. Maybe go into the city and hit some used record stores, just to mingle and chuckle at the vast quantities of second-hand Weezer and (late) Smashing Pumpkins albums.
I'm just disgusted with the world right now. Tired of investing in ideas that go nowhere, tired of spending time on people who never listen, never learn. Worn out from rejection.
I wanted to take a sanity day today, but they are depending on me for the daily farce at work. Perhaps tomorrow. I'd like to drive up to the Botanic Gardens and take some pictures, but B has my camera. Another day, then.

Gimme Fiction With Teeth

Yesterday I bought two CDs.
Nine Inch Nails - With Teeth.
I first saw NIN in 1990. The impression I got then was "rage". Trent was pissed off. And his music thrives off of turmoil. What made Pretty Hate Machine a thing of beauty was the sense that underneath it all, as angry as that album was, their was doubt. Should I feel this way? Am I right to have so much loathing? The difference between the album and the live show was the sense of restraint. On the stage, there was none. It seems that everything since then has been an attempt to convey that energy in the recordings. Sometimes it does come through. There is an art to it; a balance that must be struck. The best example is the Broken ep. And it remains so, but on With Teeth he almost gets there again. I don't know if Trent is actually angry for real anymore, but I'm inclined to conclude that he is. That, as far as the music is concerned, is a good thing. Is the writing weak sometimes, and does it occasionally sound like his vocal cords are being held taut by little demons living in his throat? Yes. Even so, this is a worthy addition to the canon of halos.
Spoon - Gimme Fiction.
If the Decemberists are too quirky for you, and mainstream radio is too boring (yeah yeah, goes wit'out sayin') may I suggest Spoon. There is something vaguely 70's arena rock about this band, plus a dash of barbershop quartet topped off with Capote's "In Cold Blood". Don't listen to it, absorb it. Standout tracks: "The Beast and Dragon, Adored", "Merchants of Soul" and my favorite, "I Summon You".

Disappearer

Some days I have to force productivity by becoming obsessive. There will be just one scratch too many of the porcelain sink, for instance, and I'll practically run to get the Comet cleanser and start cleaning the whole thing. And then wipe down all the counters. And notice that the floor should be washed. And so on. Until I just as quickly get bored of the whole business.
Under certain circumstances, such behavior scares people. Or just weirds them out. And I have a hard time reconciling that.
I don't have many talents. I can't serenade anyone, but I can clean stuff. Or paint. Or fix the computer. Or make a CD. That's about it, really. Oh, I can help move stuff, too. I try hard to be useful because otherwise I don't know what I have to offer the world.
And therein lies my biggest fear. That I could disappear and nobody would notice.

Art and Distance

You can go through the day and never give yourself away. Keep your emotions in check, acquaintances distanced, even your friends may never know what little turmoils brew inside you. Do this long enough, and you stop knowing yourself. Do this with enough skill, and it becomes a surrealistic art form; the world bends to your will, but it doesn't, yet you have such clarity that you cannot doubt that it does.
What I have noticed about surrealistic art is that it seems beautiful at a distance, but often grotesque up close. You can tear it up and rearrange it to get the same effect. The only solution is to cut away everything except the one piece that is real, and start rebuilding from there. It cannot be done alone. Take the pieces you have cut out and exchange them. And never stop. Always rebuild, step back, get up close, and if it's not right, tear it up again. Otherwise, you get comfortable. You accept the jagged edges and bad transitions. You convince yourself that there is some beauty there, and though it may have been true once, the surroundings change and it no longer fits. The intent may be good, but the outcome may be a mess.

Finite

Energy is finite, yes? I can give an expert a lump of coal and be told with some precision just how much energy can be produced from it. How does that apply to the human body? True, you can look at what you eat, your body's efficiency at burning calories, and myriad other factors to arrive at some sort of mathematical conclusion. But what about the mental energy expended in trying to make other people happy? When you are passionate about something, there is that sense, and maybe it is an illusion, that you have all the energy you need. You leap into your efforts and momentum practically carries you through the day. Until something steps in your path. And perhaps you overcome whatever the obstacle is, or it saps the strength from you to the point where you need to rest and start again. The reason love conquers all is because of the energy it provides; any extreme emotion allows us to tap into our reserves, though. Here's the catch: Are we using all of that energy for ourselves or for others? If I try to be passionately good about something, does that make me a stronger person regardless of whether it is appreciated? Or does the lack of appreciation make it all hollow and set me back? Is apathy an obstacle to be overcome, and if it is, how much energy are we willing to expend to overcome it? Or, does giving up make you stronger?
I think it does. Not always; sometimes people need to know just how serious you are about something to be convinced. But even then, there are days when the limit is reached. Those days can stretch out to weeks, months, even years. I don't give up easily. I second guess it every time. What if I had tried harder, what if I put every other aspect of my life on hold and just worked toward a singular goal? Would the results be different? Because I am stubborn, because I have denied my instincts and the weight of the evidence against doing so, I have done just that in the past. And failed every time.

Choices

We choose. Each day circumstance tests our resolve, our sense of self. How true are you to your nature, and what are the pressure points that create change. Whom do we spend more of our waking and sleeping moments with than anyone else. How do they help us or hurt us in the search to feel whole. We choose, somehow trying to circumvent the fact that the rest of the world chooses as well. To listen, or not listen; to act, or not act; and so forth. Whose motives do we question more?

What sacrifices have you made today?