01/08/2023 00:56
I don’t have much to complain about and probably never did. What ailed me at 23 looks like small beer now.
Back then all alienation was legit and so was the whinge that went with it. Things were bad. The world was on the brink, hearts were broken or were in the process of repair and if you didn’t have a particular issue then there was always the general one:
Everything was unfair.
As a songwriter, you either had to engage with this view or risk irrelevance. If you appeared outwardly positive, you simply weren’t in the tent…
or at least not the one I was in.
But the way things turned out, most of this angst was little more than a short-term trip into faithlessness by a bunch of ambitious middle-class kids like me, who would go on to become moderately successful. Most of us managed to skate into middle age with our bits intact.. unless we succumbed to drugs or alcohol.
Point being, you can sneer at human perfidy for a while but in the end you have to play the game.. simply to survive.
See that’s the thing about being young. A pretty face is mostly forgiven. Anguish, outrage, jealousy, arrogance, or just plain old bad behaviour, all are blessed by the clean lines of unblemished skin, as long as you still have time to heal..
or not.
But you get older and the anger starts to looks like bitterness.
The dude’s got baggage man.
You get older and the face you carry in your head is the one people see. People get bored quickly. They turn away. It’s up to you. Wear it or change.
Survival dictates most things.
And you know what? Time comes when you realise that the wider world is far more interesting than your own inner turmoil.
My father broke his hip at 98 and it was downhill from there. All he had to say about it was,“Look, I’m buggered love.” Quietly, with grace and power. He knew. Death was near.
In that moment, he was very cool.
When the pressure’s on, there’s only so much you can say about yourself.. Sometimes you’ve gotta keep a whole lot of balls in the air at once and not get smacked. Harden up. But not too much. Strike a balance or you’ll miss things. The passing of a life well lived. I was better for witnessing it.
No matter how bad you feel, there’s always a point of comparison. Things can still go wrong. Like they have for the poor fucker who lives on the park bench outside my gym. He’s in a bad way. His teeth are cracked. He has trouble walking. Something fairly gravitational must’ve gone down and most likely his life been far more interesting than mine..
Everybody suffers. That’s a given. But real despair is no laughing matter. Things could be a lot worse. And there’s always hope right?
Shut up and listen. Learn how to judge the turning moment.
Tell the right person what you really want and without notice, arms will reach out to hold you.
And you’ll be wondering later,
how did that even happen?