I'm unlikely to leave behind great art that is remembered through the ages.
I won't make a breakthrough that will ease the suffering of multitudes.
I won't further our understanding of the world and our place in it.
I hope to be remembered, for the brief time I'm remembered at all, as a good man. One who did his best regardless of the situation, but even that isn't working out so well of late.

A bad day yesterday and now Melancholy has once again got me by the throat and her sister Melodrama is putting the boots to me.

This passes, it always does. But in the meantime I whirl around the vortex of my own navel. That tidal spiral that denies the outside world and threatens krakens and sea changes at it's core. Never mind that it's all in my head. Never mind that the world is as beautiful and bountiful and blessed as it ever was, I can't see it. Or more accurately: I can't feel it.

Outside looking in. Surrounded by meters of glass. Immersed in heavy water. Pick your metaphores, mix liberally and swallow it straight, no chaser. I've tried to explain what depression feels like to those who've never felt it. I've failed. Repeatedly. And in my better times I'm glad that those who don't get it, really don't get it. In times like these however I wish for the science fiction gizmo that allows others to feel what you're feeling. Just for the briefest of instances, so that I'm not left with the falibility of words to convey something so slippery and personal.

Ah fuck it. I'll get a good night's sleep tonight and tomorrow I'll delete this. If it isn't documented it never happened. Right?

The Riddim of Fear

I live in fear.

Dramatic statement huh? Verges on the melodramatic even. It's true however. I'm always worrying about something and unfortunately this world contains plenty of real things to worry about.

I had a childhood filled with fear and anxiety. From the neighbour kid who terrorized me to my father the alcoholic, there was little safety in my young world. In a sense I've been programmed to worry.

This is the sort of thing that adults are suppose to "just get over". I've heard that too many times to bother counting. As a grown-up somehow the insecurities are suppose to magically go away. Or so many people imply. Apparently acknowledging them is "whining" and makes you less of man.

Everyone has fears and insecurities, even the most well adjusted of folks. The difference lies in how well you cope with them, and well, sometimes I don't cope at all.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a coward in the strict sense. I've been robbed five times at knife-point and the last time I hit the guy with a piece of pipe and chased him out of the store. The other day at work I spotted a guy who, many years ago, assaulted me. Got convicted of it even. I stepped right up and kicked him out, even though the last time we'd stood eye to eye he had his forearm across my throat and his fist over my face.

And yet I fear. Constantly and systemically.

In music this has led to not trying. I'm not sure what outcome I fear if I really put an effort into it. I'm unlikely to get gunned down in a rap war; the worst that could happen is no one would like it.

This is the nature of the fear. It's illogical and unwarranted. It floats inside my head looking for something to justify it. I can rationally see what's happening but that doesn't help. Emotions are the stronger force, they work at a level that comes before conscious thought.

I wonder if this shows in my playing. In recordings I always feel like I sound tentative. I'm not the most objective observer though, but surely it must be there. It's such a part of me that in one way or another it informs everything else I do.

So once again the theme: "What the hell do I do about this?" and the familiar slapback echo: "Fucked if I know." are the riddim of my life.