When I hit that iceberg of inconsolable grief, find the bottom rung of the ladder in the pit of despair, I turn to music.
I would say I spend around 85% of the time completely alone. Parking lots across the metroplex. Minute conversations. But mostly an empty apartment.
This level of depression is the kind where if I stop, it is unbearable. A crushing weight always off to the side. Patient. Waiting for me to relax. Then I am the shore and it is the high tide coming to drown everything the sun just kissed.
I don’t handle this part well.
So music. Fill the gaps with anything. Some drink. I smoke and fall into the grooves on the vinyl. I am the laser bouncing off the disc as it spins in some data factory underground.
This time it is toyGuitar. The album “Move Like A Ghost”, to be exact. It’s with tear streaked face and cracked voice, me and the music.
Just until it passes. It will. Always does. But the silence takes on a new facet when it is all there is. Ominous. So music to spackle the cracks.
Just until it passes.