Hair In A Bucket
I have been so helplessly lost today. I am not at all privy as to the reasons. But i feel depressed now. I didnt yesterday - nor the day before, but i did see this downward spiral.
I have spent all day moping around home. Everything yet another failed attempt in my life.
I finally dragged myself out of bed to go shopping. And Sophie added some cheer along the way. But I couldnt find what i was looking for. So i waited at the deli to buy a whole chicken. the lady informed me that i did not need to wait to be served because the chickens are already wrapped to go. All i needed to do was pick one up. People smirked. Another lady wrapped up a fresh chicken to make me feel better. She noticed how stricken i looked. I then wandered throughout the supermarket with my chicken. I dont even particularly like chicken. But i couldnt remember what the hell i needed.
Giving up i left. frustrated i paid in cash -- and left.
As i arrived home i decided i would clean the dishes to some music and the satisfacon would appease some of the disappointment of the day. However i recalled that anika didnt want the dvd to run through her amp! again i was ploughed into immense sadness. Why does this shit me? I am not a hundred percent sure. I just know that the dvd will not damage her amp. I know that the problem she complained about earlier was due to the previous speakers. But it matters not if i am right. I dont own the amp. I know i am correct -- i have done a sound engineering course - i work with sound - i am
meant to know these things. I thought she was a dj.
So i proceeded to lay my anxieties upon the backyard lawn. The sense of accomplishment at taming nature would surely dull my woes. But alas the damnable lawn mower would not start. Damn it, damn the insatiable creature to hell.
I went to my room and skulked.
After sometime. A short dream and a gulp of water. Work was commenced upon photoshop, while Sanatra sang at his proudest. But i was not leaving for new york and it was not raining - so i did not sing. The artistic avenue i had chosen was not responsive to my sadness and sent me into an existential dillemma.
This is it. I am resorting to drugs. I need a chocolate milkshake. The endorphin kick shall be good.
The milkshake maker - i suddenly remembered - had been used by a flatmate some weeks ago. And the aforementioned character had dared not to clean the instrument. Again i was at a loss. Do i clean up after this squalid character - who had used
MY milkshake maker - and thus have to clean the dishes with no music? I couldn't bare it.
At this stage i felt like running in front of a bus.
I knew the safest thing to do was to put myself to sleep. Managing a certain state of unconscious, i dreamt as though i had been led into a trap by a wicked sorceress in her fallen cathedral. I awoke with a start.
I needed to leave the confines of my bedroom. Of the house. Of Surry Hills.
Eventually of Sydney...(but i did not get that far)
There was a task i could not possibly fail in its goal. The delivery of a guitar to a service store across the city. I would walk. It would be good to walk. the forward movement excells one's thoughts into a forward progression. Walking removes the vicious circle.
The city was busy.
I knew not why.
I have often pondered this very bizarre occurence. If it is a fact that most people work between the hours of 9am to 5pm HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THE CITY BE BUSY INBETWEEN THESE VERY HOURS OF THE DAY!?!?!?
Nevertheless, arriving at my destination there was action all around. Noise being made, guitars being unashamedly mutilated. A symbol of defiance, i strode to the front desk. No one served me.
I laughed - out loud. I had all the time in the world and a little to spare.
People looked and i looked back. I dared them to look back. And they shunned their eyes to the ground or the nearest instrument.
Finally, as some annoying pratt named Damien, who lived at Artarmon, tried to buy a guitar and case for $1100 with a savings card, which allows a mere $800 withdrawal limit per a day, a salesperson asked me what i wanted. Now i am familiar with these salespeople at this particular store so their attitudes do not intimidate me. Let me suss out the scenario. The store is busy. There are people who want to buy stuff and there a lot of kids who just want to fuck around and dream. It is school holidays i realise. One staff member is on holidays. One is out for lunch. There needs to be one staff member on each of the three floors. That leaves two serving the main floor, and one on each other. It seems to be understaffed, and the staff look as though they are understaffed. But it is not it is just busy.
The head honcho - who eventually takes my business - is a no shit attitude. To him all the shit guitars sound the same because he knows they all come out of the same factory in japan or south korea. They put the nice fender, epiphone, or yamaha label on it afterwards. if you want to spend real money, thousands of dollars, and buy a guitar from the states, private factory or custom, then he wants to listen to you. So his attitude, although it probably should, doesnt make me feel any worse then i am already feeling.
With this out of the way the day is now technically over. I think i will hook up the dvd player to the amp anyways. I will just unplug it after i am done. I will clean the dishes and have a milkshake. I might make some pasta.
It doesnt matter. I still feel like shit.
Maybe i am having a bad hair day.
DH