One
or two of you have noticed that this blog has rather ground to a halt lately
and I really couldn’t argue with you about that. It’s also likely to remain
that way, too, at least for a while, given that the latest bout of depression,
self-doubt and lack of inspiration does seem to be far more severe than at
other times when things have threatened to cease.
My
brain seems to be well and truly mashed and drained, and, given that my recent
efforts at writing anything have turned out to be rather disappointing – so
disappointing in fact, that I have so far refused to share them with anyone,
let alone yourselves, dear reader – and I can’t currently see a time when
successful daily word-wrangling is likely to resume.
Then
there’s my current sense of “disappointment” with life – particularly weblife –
at the moment anyway to deal with, because, well, you know how it can get what
with all the judgmental twaddle and emphatic righteousness on display in a
world that seems to be so much less aware of shades of grey than once it was.
That
said, things are also terribly busy at the moment, what with the ongoing – and
seemingly endless - saga of the selling on of my mother’s former home, and also
a short trip to the Lake District which kept me away from keyboards for the
duration, even though I did manage to send some relatively lovely pictures from
t’teffalone to communicate in a minimalist way with the rest of the universe.
All
very pretty – see photo attached – and relaxing… but it didn’t sort out my
brain much.
The
problem remains; My brain seems unable to think in a “bloggy” way at the
moment. Every time I put my thoughts towards today’s posting, a great big
swirling maelstrom of chaos whirls around inside my head and I can’t seem
to form it into some kind of order any
more without it turning into something smug, or irritating, or – even worse -
just downright boring.
In
which case, it seems best not to try at all, at least until my mind calms
itself down again.
Mentally,
I can tell things are not really, really going well.
Case in point: Last
week, as I drove up the M6 towards Keswick, I had Radio 2 on in the car, which is seldom a good sign, and I was listening to their “all-request” show and some member of the Great British Public chose to request a “Genesis” track – “I
can’t dance…” – which then lodged itself so firmly inside my brain that I decided that I must rather like it and ended
up ordering myself a “Genesis Greatest Hits” compilation for no very good
reason other than I once owned “Invisible Touch” on vinyl and persuaded myself
that I still “quite liked” some of their stuff on some level.
Now
this, you need to understand, comes after more than a quarter of a century of
finding Phil Collins and his performing career truly, truly irksome, and sometimes
I have been known to admit to this dislike in a very, very public way.
For
example, I often describe his own Greatest Hits Collection – “Hits” – as the
greatest and most truthful anagram in record titling history, and “One More
Night” is often crooned with the title tweaked to be “My Bald Patch…” and as
for that bloody “homeless” dirge he created at the height of his
multi-millionaire rock star lifestyle…
(Sigh!) Words, it seems, do fail me.
But
I digress.
Anyhoo,
despite all of that venom and bile, and spleen-venting, now, however, I find
myself “eagerly anticipating” the arrival of my “Genesis” compilation which I
shall probably play in the car during the commuter run, find surprisingly
enjoyable, add to the CD pile, and then forget all about for several years
having allowed another of my occasional “Prog Rock” revisiting phases to fade.
So,
after that alarming diversion from everything that is sane and reasonable, here we find ourselves, poised on “the horns
of a Dalai-lama” as I imagine nobody has ever actually said.
Do
I go back and do that “publish and be damned” thing on all of those wretched,
godawful (and barely bloody readable) pieces that I failed to share with you
when I was in the depths of my despair and fug last week? Or should I draw a
line under the whole business and hurtle blindly onwards with more mindless
nonsense which will only leave me feeling a whole lot worse about, well, pretty
much everything really?
There’s
much to ponder upon, obviously.
No
doubt I’ll be back. (Problee…)
Sorry to hear things are bad at the moment, Martin.
ReplyDeleteI think a break away from the internet can be a good idea. I know how all the drivel and spitefulness can get you down. And there's no point forcing the words if they're just not there. We'll still be here when they are.
I like your photos from the Lake District. And I live with a huge fan of Genesis, so you'll get no judgement from me ;-)
Take care and hope things are better for you soon.
More worrying memories… Oh how we mocked that lad at school who wagged off to queue overnight for tickets to see the "Duke" tour… (I'm such a hypocrite… eventually) and the "hilarious fact" that "No Jacket Required" was one of the earliest widely-distributed CDs and consequently suffered much from "CD Rot" - The thought of all those Phil Collins CDs quietly self-destructing through utter shame used to make me smile a lot...
DeleteI remember doing the same, and Dire Straits were another target - quite like them nowadays too.
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