It starts out as an ordinary day, you awake, warm and cozy in the darkness of a room made comfortable with quilt and pillows. As you hoist yourself from the confines of the familiar, in search of robe and slippers that summon you to a new day, you shuffle down in search of the drug that will rouse you from that ghostly state, and into the land of the living.... the daily routine. But as you sip and stare at the laughing glare of the TV morning crew, at once cackling, then delivering in a minute, the night's "bad" news, somehow you find yourself unamused and uncaring. The cloud that usually descends by now only settles upon your mind, your vision, and shoulders, and lulls you into a disheveled listlessness. You retreat to a book, or other arena of fantasy. No joy there... the deal is sealed, as you wait for the wish that is finally granted. Alone, you drag yourself around, like a leadened phantom, trying again, to find solace in the familiar. Failing that, you finally admit your silent defeat... it's the cold hand of winter pulling you into its darkened chamber of doom, and reluctantly you succumb. The sun mocks, as you sit alone , your faceless reflection illuminates from the refrigerator door. Try to think of a happy tune... all you hear is Van singing... "Got to get through January, Got to get through February"... and with a wry smile you challenge... "what then?" The giddy dreams of the previous day further mock your current loneliness and despair, as you stab out another cigarette... the friend that you know will ultimately deceive you. The transition is complete... the phantom phone ring that is a malfunction of the current state of communication, fails to give hope... no one is calling. Why should they? No news is good news to the dispirited. In a quiet moment of indulgence, with the stab of ice in a fermented beverage, you give in and give up to the mourn. Only one thing to do now... head back to the embrace of the pillow, and hope your dreams are still alive, in the splendid darkness of slumber.
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Dispirited Moment
It starts out as an ordinary day, you awake, warm and cozy in the darkness of a room made comfortable with quilt and pillows. As you hoist yourself from the confines of the familiar, in search of robe and slippers that summon you to a new day, you shuffle down in search of the drug that will rouse you from that ghostly state, and into the land of the living.... the daily routine. But as you sip and stare at the laughing glare of the TV morning crew, at once cackling, then delivering in a minute, the night's "bad" news, somehow you find yourself unamused and uncaring. The cloud that usually descends by now only settles upon your mind, your vision, and shoulders, and lulls you into a disheveled listlessness. You retreat to a book, or other arena of fantasy. No joy there... the deal is sealed, as you wait for the wish that is finally granted. Alone, you drag yourself around, like a leadened phantom, trying again, to find solace in the familiar. Failing that, you finally admit your silent defeat... it's the cold hand of winter pulling you into its darkened chamber of doom, and reluctantly you succumb. The sun mocks, as you sit alone , your faceless reflection illuminates from the refrigerator door. Try to think of a happy tune... all you hear is Van singing... "Got to get through January, Got to get through February"... and with a wry smile you challenge... "what then?" The giddy dreams of the previous day further mock your current loneliness and despair, as you stab out another cigarette... the friend that you know will ultimately deceive you. The transition is complete... the phantom phone ring that is a malfunction of the current state of communication, fails to give hope... no one is calling. Why should they? No news is good news to the dispirited. In a quiet moment of indulgence, with the stab of ice in a fermented beverage, you give in and give up to the mourn. Only one thing to do now... head back to the embrace of the pillow, and hope your dreams are still alive, in the splendid darkness of slumber.
