Late-night musical moments

I tend to do a lot of micro-blogging in other places. A couple of sentences as a status update, a hundred and fifty-six characters on Twitter, an SMS to a friend. All very good ways to share a small experience, a tiny part of my day. I did some micro-blogging late last night (well, in the early hours of this morning) in the form of some text messages to friends at home (because it was afternoon there!), and one of my friends reminded me that i actually have a blog, and i should use it and share the small things that make me smile. So i shall!

A very long shift at work yesterday, made much easier to deal with by the fact that we only really "worked" for about five hours, and during all the other hours we were on the clock we varied our activity between dozing on a bus, eating one of several meals they put on for us, and standing around chatting over coffee in a renovated 18th-century stable. On our way home from Chester (closer to Ecclestone, actually), i tried to nap but it proved difficult - my neck was sore and although the bus driver swore the heating was on, even after three hours of travel we were all still freezing. As the open roads surrounded by darkness fell away and we drew closer to Hammersmith, the lights of London were too bright and i decided it was pointless to try to attempt further sleep. The bus was silent and i became aware of tinny music nearby. The boy seated next to me was dozing and had earphones in, and although his music was not loud i could hear it quite distinctly. At first i could only hear rhythmic cymbals and other high-frequency sounds, but i soon became aware that it was Billy Joel singing "She's Always A Woman". I smiled... Billy Joel always reminds me of my very early childhood, because it was a choice of my father's that was popular with the rest of us, so it got a lot of air time on car trips and on the stereo. I lay back and watched the tall buildings roll past as we hurtled along the flyover.

After a few minutes and another unrecognisable tune, i heard something else that made me smile. It was "Don't Panic" by Coldplay. My smile was tinged by a moment of sadness as i thought of D - Coldplay always makes me think of my best friend, even though i was listening to them for years before i even met him - and i missed him. But in this hyper-connected world, nobody's really far away. So i wrote him a text message, just to let him know i was thinking of him, as my bus-mate's track ended and the distinctive "Everything's Not Lost" began.

We arrived at the Hammersmith Apollo at about 3.45am. Some people were going to organise taxis, and although we are able to be reimbursed by work, we still have to come up with the cash at the time and i do not have spare cash, so i walked to the bus stop. I was joined by a new friend Lori, and we found we were taking the same bus to Trafalgar Square. We chatted all the way and then walked to the next bus stop once we reached the Square, where he left me and went off in search of his bus to Hackney. As i waited in the cold at the busy bus stop (busy even at 4.30am, but hey, this is London on a Saturday night!), a group of six drunk and happy teenagers who were talking loudly to each other started to sing. They started with a few lines from "Oh Happy Day", and dissolved into giggles. Then one of them belted out "Well, sometimes i go out by myself, and i look across the water..." The others joined in, and they weren't the usual drunken chorus of young people, they were actually not too bad as they brightened the bus stop with their loud and fervent rendition of "Valerie" by Amy Winehouse. I couldn't help smiling, and i laughed out loud as a couple of their group even busted out trumpet solos in the chorus - "bap, ba-da bap!" I knew someone who would appreciate this magical moment, so i texted K, my best lady. As i did, they kids kept singing and worked their way through a few lines from several songs, before slowing it down with "Someone Like You" by Adele. This prompted swaying and crooning, in which they were engrossed, and did not see a man from the far end of the bus stop approach them - and toss a 50p coin at their feet and give them a thumbs-up. The minstrels broke into fits of laughter and cheers, which were joyful and contagious. So i shared that with K as well. They couldn't decide which of them should keep the 50p so they gave it to a nearby stranger, and started an impressive rendition of the uncensored version of Cee-Lo's "Forget You".

The 176 arrived and i boarded, smiling, and felt warm and happy all the way home.

Musings on emotional music.

Music does terrible things to me. It's a major contributor to my emotional self-harm, a terrible habit i've been trying to break in the last year or so (but one which i have been a slave to for, oh, twenty years). I love music, i form deep emotional bonds with it, but i tie it to events and people in my life so strongly that even if i hear a song years after i have created this bond, it can still bring a tear to my tired, ridiculous eyes if the feelings are negative - and they almost always are. Because even songs that are tied to good memories become miserable when i think about those good times which once were and will never be again. Cry, cry, cry.

But anyway. I don't do that shit anymore. I let go of sentimentality, of whingeyness, and put away all my Augie March and Damien Rice albums. I still adore those artists, and i miss their music (because they do make truly beautiful music), but i simply can't listen to them anymore because of the misery they conjure up. Regina Spektor? Sorry, i have to leave the room in tears. Speedstar? I know YOU've never heard of them, but they make me cry. Sugarcult's "Memory" and the Scrubs theme? I'll get a sad, faraway look in my eye and become really boring while i remember stuff. Machine Translations? Sigh, that reminds me of...  Fuck that shit. I'm tired of it.

But this week i accidentally allowed myself to listen to Augie March for the first time in a year or so. Damn, they make gorgeous music. But one of my favourites came on (or one of the worst ones, depending how you look at it) - "The Night Is A Blackbird", from Strange Bird. Whilst in the depths of my depression over the past few years, the lyrics of this song tortured me - these in particular:

There's a question to be asked if you're drinking alone
It's "What horse were you thrown from which riderless goes on"?

I feel a lump in my throat just typing those words. I hear Glenn's voice in my head. (My relationship with Augie March is longer than any real relationship i've had - i've loved them since i was eighteen, when i first heard "Asleep in Perfection". I know them very well. I miss them.) But back to my point.

God damn you, Augie March. I thought these words were so insightful, but perhaps they were doing more harm than good. You see, that's the way i saw my life. That it had continued without me. I went off course, fell down, and it left me behind. That all the things i'd planned were lost, that i'd never catch up, that i'd lost everything without hope of recovery. And i heard Glenn sing those words, and my heart wailed in despair. "It's true!" i cried. "It's gone, it's all gone. I'm a failure, i've lost everything."

When i heard those lyrics the other day, i stopped. And i thought, "How could you, Glenn? How could you articulate despair so beautifully that it fitted in exactly with my pain and made me believe its scale was so large?" What a destructive thought, that my life was over at twenty-nine, that there was no point continuing because there was no salvaging the life i'd lost. That all my plans were so closely tied to the person that left my life that without him, i was nothing. That he probably continued with life exactly as we'd planned it - but without me.

I still feel the sadness that Augie March conjures up. But a lot of the self-loathing has gone. I see now that my life isn't over, that although i was thrown from one horse, i can leap astride another and ride on. It just took me a while to find another figurative horse. And for the first time in years, i am galloping with the wind in my hair.

A collection of random thoughts

*  I do not understand fingerless gloves. My fingers are the coldest part of me!! Why would i want to keep them outside the warm layers i swaddle myself in before stepping out the front door?!!

*  The types of canned soup that i find in supermarkets (hehe, i nearly wrote soupermarkets!) here are quite vexing. I see Chicken, i see Tomato... i see Mulligatawny?! I see Scotch Broth?! I see weird flavours that i've never heard of and am a little afraid to try. At least i'm keen on chicken and tomato. And i did find a packet soup that's Thai spicey flavour, nom nom nom.

*  There are so many different charity shops here!! And some of them actually offer you rewards if you shop there a lot, or if you make lots of donations. Seems like a really good incentive to donate quality goods, and to continue to buy second-hand. I read an article this morning from home about problems with lazy fuckers who dump their old shit on the ground next to charity bins because they're too tight to pay tip fees or to drive out to the tip (it's not a long journey in Canberra!!). Charities are having to pay to clean up all this crap, most of which is broken and rained on before it can be collected anyway, so they're basically just a garbage removal service. It's not hard to get the Salvos to come and pick up your old stuff (not your broken shit that's no good to anyone, but your old, reusable possessions that are able to be sold again), and they do that for free.  Or wait for hard rubbish night. Fuck it burns me up.

*  I tried Jaffa Cakes. They're alright. I also found a biscuit that looks almost exactly like a Tim Tam, but tastes a little bit lamer. It's called a Penguin, which i think is hilarious. I also went into hysterics (almost) last week when i saw Smarties in a tube. A tube!! With a little lid on the end! Like a thing you put rolled-up posters in before you put them in the post. Except tiny. Anyway, i thought it was cute. Gav thought i was mental.

*  For some reason, after four years of using Facebook, i've discovered "poking". It's the stupidest thing in the world, but i can't stop doing it. I'm in the middle of about ten ongoing poke-wars with various silly friends. The major down-side to this is that it bumps up my notifications, so i get excited thinking loads of stuff is happening on Facey - but it's just idiots poking me. So i poke them back, and the madness continues.

*  I visited the Sherlock Holmes museum yesterday, and it was delightful!! Lots of old junk and nick-nacks from the 1800s in a gorgeous, creaky old lodging house on Baker Street in the city. I should read some more Sherlock novels. Gav's been reading some, and he's really getting into them, so he suggested we check it out, and it was an excellent idea. 

*  Finally having some proper wintery weather. It's about three degrees today. Chilly!!!