September 28th, 2005


The Blues...

For no really good reason, I having (or maybe recovering from) a depressive crash. Not a major depressive crash, I've seen them in other people, and this wasn't that. Just instead an inward crash of alone, touch hungry, need-a-hug, need-a-massage (warm oil and strong hands).

Piano was brutal. I kept making and repeating mistakes I could barely hear, "little" things like playing a given 1/8 note as a quarter note, collapsing on my thumb, getting a given tricky rhythm repeatedly wrong, missing a rest, reaching up and down a handspan and missing the landing by a single note. And I kept making the same mistakes over and over again. Frustrating and upsetting.

chemicallace has said she is taking glassblowing, because she wanted to do something that didn't come easy to her. Well, playing music doesn't come easy to me. I have a broken sense of time and rhythm (my gratitude goes out to omahas for repeatably going out dancing with me, despite this.)

I have a fair number of warm friends and affectionate lovers in my `phone's database, but when I feel like this, it's hard to want to call any of them, it feels too revealing and imposing to want to call someone just `cause I'm feeling sad and lonely for no real reason, and even if I did, what would I talk about?

I considered just going right home and to bed, but the traffic report says that the 520 bridge is extremely congested. So I came to CapHill, and wandered around the newly opened Franklin Reservoir Park. It's a lovely park; grass, benches, big chessboards, and a really nice fountain.

For some unguessable reason, one guy in the park, a big soft-spoken weatherbeaten Native American from Montana stopped me, asked the time, and then handcrafted a handmade rose out of a long leaf. It made me feel a bit better.

Update: Thank you, chemicallace, for walking over and chatted with me into the evening. It did help a lot in cheering me up.
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