A state of bewilderment.

I have to admit I spend a lot of my time in a state of bewilderment. Of wondering what it is all about. I have always thought that there is a kind of organised chaos about this place we call home. I’ve always felt a oddness about the world. Yes, odd is a good word. So, confusion is not new territory for me.

But these days I have to admit, are some of the weirdest I think I have ever experienced. Uncomfortable. Weird. Odd.

I’m talking here of our lives in general. The everyday humdrum existence that most of us live. The routine.

And by routine, I’m not suggesting that life is somehow boring but more excepting that to live the way we do, i.e. following a day-to-day life of routine and expectations, is ok and in most cases bearable.

What I am suggesting is that this routine, these expectations seem to have changed, almost overnight. Like someone, something outside of us, is interfering.

I don’t know about you, but we appear to be living under some sort of siege. And I’m not referring to the Covid restrictions we have just come out of but that ‘coming out’ of those restrictions has introduced us to a world that we are unfamiliar with.  A world we don’t necessarily recognise. It doesn’t appear to be the same place we left BC (Before Covid).

We find ourselves in a new place.

A strange, new world that OK we ahave to admit, we have gone someway to creating for ourselves. So much is different. From the empty supermarket shelves to the strange votes for self-destruction (Brexit and Climate Change) that we appear to have made while asleep.

Like the appearance of new disease.

From the unusual people we have chosen to lead us and the amazing and breath-taking drop in intellect and honour (discuss) in those leaders…etc…etc. Something is afoot. Something is wrong.

Something is in the air.

And yes it’s a lot to do with self-affliction. As previously mentioned from Brexit to Climate Change. No-one else to blame. But all the same, weird and unexpected decisions have been made and fall upon us all like a new kind of plague, taking us by surprise and inflicting upon us obvious consequences.

It maybe just me but I mean it when I say, ‘there’s something in the air’. Literally. It’s like we are under attack? And I can’t help but wonder if our recent woes are the consequence of a new kind of warfare? Has something been released into our  atmosphere that severely harming us? Are we the first  casualties of a new way to fight a war?

Everything seems slower. There’s no energy. No electricity in the atmosphere. And perhaps the scariest thing of all, nobody appears willing to put up any kind of a fight.  Like zombies we stumble almost willingly towards our demise as though we have already lost.

There’s change afoot and I don’t like it.

It feels as though the whole human race is about to experience…something? Excuse me for a moment while I appear to go over the top and suggest, ‘the end of the world – at least as we know it’.

But it really does feel odd. I can’t explain it better than that.

The Stratfordian

ODD is a good word.

Pointless

I don’t know what the following is. What you might call it. If I were pushed it’s just a flow. Not worth anything. Just done because I can. Purely selfish. Pointless.

Every time I feel like I’ve found it

I lose it.

Every time I think I’ve discovered the path. My path.

My reason to be. THE POINT.

It disappears. It slips from my grasp like a bank note in a breeze.

And I fall back into a ball of confusion, of need, of definition, of decree. Of mess.

Never quite…happy.

Never quite…satisfied.

Never clear or concise.

Not quite Chaos…but close.

I want to say that this is everybody’s lot but I don’t really know.

Some Do. Some Don’t.

And if it were…So what? They are not me and I am not them.

And even if it were so and we all suffered from the same sickness why should I accept and make it my lot…my map.

I don’t like it. I won’t accept it.

I won’t acknowledge that my life is somehow under the control of other…?

Even if it means being in this state of uncomfortable dissatisfaction until the day I die.

(I wanted to say, ‘Even if it means being in this state of uncomfortable dissatisfaction until the day I am released’.

But of course that is to assume/accept that someone holds the key).

 

 

Counting down the days.

The Stratfordian

I admit I do have a tendency to be a  bit over-dramatic but hey let’s face these are special times. With what’s going on in the world (at least what we know about) it’s a great time to get whatever is bothering you off your chest (before it’s too late).

So what’s bothering me…?

It’s the passage of time. But that’s nothing new. It’s always bothered me since I was a kid. How fast it all goes. One minute you are as I said a kid, the next you are a father with kids of your own. How did that happen?

Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is not only does it go too fast but, before you know it you’re close to the finishing line. Over. Done. And for what?

That’s how I feel right now. Near the end. Now don’t get me wrong this is not necessarily a complaint. I’m a little nervous but not scared. Apprehensive, yes but I’m of the school that thinks this is a journey of different stages so in a strange way I’m curious…even excited. Morbid to some I admit but this part of the journey (the living part) has been everything. Weird, frustrating, pointless (?), revealing, pleasurable (sex) plus a lot of other stuff that seemed to make it all worthwhile and by that I guess I mean, kids, offspring, children. No doubt they are THE THING that’s made it moderately worthwhile.

What’s brought this on?

Well a few years ago after a bout of breathlessness and a suspected heart attack (although that is now in doubt), I had some stents fitted. To cut a long (ish) story short – miraculous. I was back to er ‘normal’.

Cut too today…

The symptoms appear to have returned. Not as bad but they’re back. After a week or so of doing the typical male thing and ignoring them, I have been persuaded by you know who to book an appointment with the doctor.

So here we go again.. More stents? Big heart operation…watch this space.

I’m 73. No complaints.

OK. I’m not in the Ukraine or starving in some sun-scorched desert. I’m in the UK FFS with the only thing to worry about is the toad Boris Johnson (wash my mouth out with soap and water). I guess, like us all I’d like a bit more time. Selfish, I know but I’m trying to be honest. And as that’s the case, to be truthful I am a little scared of being fiddled about with again.

This has been a purely selfish post.

Musical thoughts; An old fart speaks.

So that’s the excitement over for another year. Glastonbury, come and gone in the blinking of an eye. Performers become superheroes and saviours of the world all on the basis of their constructing a simple melody that strikes somewhere deep in our consciousness, enlightening us and for a short magical moment taking us on a trip fuelled not by drugs but by the very vibration of the air around us.

Music would appear to be important in our lives.

Indeed there are some that are convinced that we cannot live without its vibrations. And so we have things like Glastonbury and other festivals and concerts etc that take us away for an hour or two to another place. A place of rest and escape.

Music can and does change the world.

Its vibration, the way it moves the air, its echo can infiltrate even the hardest heart and has the ability to make people stop and think. It excites memories and in between making certain people famous and a lot of money, it can give the listener, hope.

But hey, let’s not get carried away here.

Music is also fashion item and therefore a momentary thing. Once out of fashion its power is gone (until next time around maybe). One only has to look at the various musical campaigns to ‘Feed the World’ to note the short shelf life. People dance and react with fervour and passion until the beats don’t strike home anymore and the dance that they are performing looks suddenly clumsy, old-fashioned and embarrassing. So much for the poor and starving.

For all music’s and musicians’ macabre efforts to combining entertainment and deadly disaster, music cannot be denied its most useful purpose which is the passing on of information.

Music still plays the part that it has always done.

That of the travelling minstrel. The word will get around.

Music, although it does not have the ability in itself to drastically change the world it will always be able to inform and inspire. The other amazing thing about music is it gets to the parts other systems cannot reach and that is because of its ability to float in the air. To penetrate barriers, political systems and of course its magical ability to send coded and secret messages. It can also operate in disguise. Pretending to be one thing when in fact it is another. An iron fist in a velvet glove.

There is something weird/strange/mystical about music’s vibrations that will always make people stop and think…and thereafter…who knows?

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