I know deep down

I get pretty frightened about losing things, mainly CONTROL - but also, lately I've been worrying about ever losing a sense of direction, or curiosity, or intrigue - something like that.


I went to a punk gig on the weekend and let myself be fascinated by the sparse crowd, all mid to late thirties, crimson mohawk and glassless glasses, bouncing around with beer in hand and revelling in this little echo of what punk actually was, used to be, maybe still is, I don't know. But these people, they were beautiful, and in a funny way the music was too. Perhaps it's reflective of a present state of mind however I think the idea of 'organised noise' is really fantastic. That feeling you get when sound gets right down into your organs, your bones, and starts throbbing and pulsing through your system and painting streaks of blood red along your little synaesthetic brainwaves. It kind of has an anaesthetic's effect too; I felt like nothing could touch me that I would feel - and wouldn't feel until later when inevitably its effects run their course. 


I guess I'm feeling a little disconnected - I thought I was sure what I was supposed to do and that was work, and worry, and be good - but now I've started noticing little glitches in my little reality. Noticing the little nice things that happen used to be everything to me - friendly strangers on trains, favourite songs on the radio, flowers that are only in season for one month in the year - and somehow I felt like those tiny moments were exceptions to the rule of a generally mundane existence. Friends and family, of course, are a given joy, as is music, and art, and all the other things all those people who, like me, find themselves compulsively drawn to do like some kind of spiritual vomit. These glitches, I don't think they're new - I think they've always been around, where I find them now - in new friendships, old friendships, in people-watching, in 'freedom', in change and new beginnings and letting go and sad ends. 


Now that everything I know has been turned all around and inside out in the past couple of weeks, I suppose I'm finally realising something that I think we all already know in the first place. Something along the lines of 'there's more to us than just this, than just what is happening right now'.


I think I really did know that already, but had trouble believing it when I was stuck doing what I didn't want to do, or with people I knew I would hurt or would hurt me in the end,  or caught up trying to perfect the one thing about me that I don't feel guilty about being completely flawed, and completely sad. The second you start lying to yourself, or start questioning who you are, your purpose, your talents, is the second you stop doing what you ought'a. 


So maybe what's happening 'right now', which is some kind of limbo essentially between losing one reality, and gaining another, is what I've been given to start noticing glitches when they happen. Sometimes I get so caught up in trying to be 'perfect' I lose sight of the point, when the point is why I'm trying to be 'perfect' in the first place. Slowing down is not something that's easy to do but if my perception of 'limbo' is right then I should only be able to move in slow motion like moonwalking. Or something. 


I know how long and un-flowy and confusing this post has been but as mentioned above, writing is one of those versions of spiritual vomit that is a habit of mine. I plan on marketing 'I have spiritual gastro!' t-shirts at uni next year so keep an eye out on Etsy. 


I also know how self-indulgent this post has been. Sorry. Hopefully you can gain something from it, though. I remember a comment I got a while ago on this blog that said the concepts of my songs were lacking, due to my 70%/30% ratio of songwriting concepts being based around 'love' (70%) and 'stupid' (30%) (and sometimes 'stupid love'). But I stand by my opinion in relation to that, in regards to this - everything I have ever felt, and will ever feel, is universal. The things I write about and sing about are, hopefully, relatable in some way, any way, to those who listen and consume what I do. That's kind of the point, for me, anyway. To find those people who know what it feels like to feel how I do and to give them a kind of emotional high-five:


'Hey! I feel really upset about *insert trivial qualm here*! But at least we're not alone, huh!'