Five to one, one in five, no one here gets out alive

I am like Lazarus risen. Perhaps that is a little strong; rather, just these last couple of hours, I've been feeling better, at least in the physical sense. And maybe, too, in the spiritual sense, though I suspect that affliction may take a bit longer to heal, if it does at all. One thing at a time. The cold I caught last week that, up until today, seemed to be gaining steam in breaking me down, has loosened its hold on me. Whether I'm out of the woods, I'm not sure, but I do feel better, and at this stage, when not much has felt good to me, I'll take any reason to celebrate, no matter how small.

I'm going to make this post short. I'm in the process of determining how I should approach this blog henceforth. On the one hand, it has served as a vehicle, when necessary, to vent whatever it is I've kept to myself that needs to get out lest I blow. In this regard, the blog has served as an elixir when no other has been found or offered. On the other hand, there are my readers to consider, some of whom are friends, current and former. While this is my house you are entering when you read this blog, and if you disagree with the way in which I conduct myself herein, you can step back outside, hopefully with the understanding that you weren't coerced into entering in the first place, I do feel, on occasion that I'm showing my hand too often to some that would rather I didn't at all (There is also the opposite to consider, that people love watching a train wreck and mine offer the right sustenance, i.e. keep 'em coming, kid, and don't spare a single detail in these accounts of your decline).

In other words, I'm making things known that I'd be better served keeping close to the vest. After learning the hard way not to expect too much from my friendships, particularly the close ones, I've been in the practice of keeping my mouth shut when it comes to personal issues. The question is, should I extend that policy to my blog? I don't know, and I'm not even sure I have should have this policy of withholding in place at all. Ideally, I would prefer open dialog between myself and certain others, enough so that I didn't feel I was being a burden. I don't say this with any venom, but I do with some regret and frustration. Things turn out how they turn out and I've adjusted, am adjusting. There are several factors involved that have caused this outcome; this is not an indictment of my friendships, only a lament that things couldn't be different.

This professed short post has found it's legs. Better I hobble it before it gets ahead of me. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, this has been one of the hardest times of my life. A confluence of shitty things has been visited upon my sorry ass and it's been taxing. My dark night of the soul? I feel as if I've a few already, but if I had to pick one, this would be it. Dark days, like a bitter cold, have penetrated through my layers all the way to my spirit. Ah, but as I said above, I've been feeling a bit more hale and that is a good step on the staircase of getting right.
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It hasn't been all terrible. It never truly is, I suppose. There has been the wonderful Deadwood on DVD to keep me company. The best written show I've ever seen. There has been Melville's Billy Budd, which just for the language alone, has been a treat, despite its tangential nature. There has been an increased intimacy and evolution regarding my music. There was Mara's brunch yesterday, which turned out differently, and perhaps better, than I anticipated.

Being as just about everyone she invited didn't show up for one reason or another, it was a cozy affair between Mara, her friend Dave, and myself. Dave is an older gent who, in his capacity as a DJ at a college radio station, has been a luminary in the local folk scene for decades. Mara used to work with him and, consequently, ended up with boxes of cds that she's had no use for. She brought them out yesterday for Dave and me to peruse. I found a Richard and Linda Thompson cd I'd been wanting and a few others. The rest that I took with me were recommendations by Dave and Mara.

I haven't listened to most of the cd's yet. There have been three I've had in heavy rotation. One by Archie Fisher, another by Dick Gaughan, and the third by the french traditionalist, Gabriel Yaub. Quality stuff and quite educational. The Dick Gaughan cd is a live one recorded in Edinburgh and the performance, just voice and guitar, is flawless. And this cat ain't strumming chords like Pete Seeger, no he's doing some complex stuff under those vocals. And the vocals - the phrasing and every other aspect - is so well done. These assessments hold true for each artist and it's why I've found listening to them educational. Beautiful stuff, the folk traditions of Europe.

So not all sour, but I'm crossing my fingers. At the end of the day, I don't want the doldrums to get the better of me. I want to rebound and start enjoying my life, an act, I say with sadness, I've more and more begun seeing as something as impossible as giving birth to a baby. Ah, but I've got some fight in me and if I'm to fall, it won't be done whimpering.

Leigh, I want to thank you for your kind words and support. I read them when I felt at my lowest and they perked me up. You are a sweet one and served as an angel on my shoulder.