Crazier than You

The other day I was roaming the streets, moaning, with tears streaming down my cheeks, much in the vein of a lunatic.  I barely noticed the streets and laneways I wandered, the beautiful terrace houses which form this neighbourhood. I was literally wringing my hands, also very much in the way of a crazy lady, and then I happened to notice a woman walking in front of me.  She was in a dirty blue robe, dressing gown that is, and slippers, and not much else.  It was freezing.  I could see the hairs on her legs bristling in the frigid air as she shuffled along.  She carried a canvas bag, the kind that you get from the supermarket in place of a plastic bag. I’m a tiny bit ashamed to say that I followed her.  She made a beeline for the bottleshop.  I didn’t go that far, but I like to imagine that she bought herself some cooking sherry, or maybe some Father O’Leary’s Velvet Cream. I thought she might go shuffling off to the nearest bench, or perhaps that I might find myself on a midweek adventure, tailing dressing gown lady back to her abode (not creepy, more in the way of a super sleuth). Instead, she legged it to the centre of the road, and stood waiting casually at the tram stop, her gown flapping in the breeze.  She made me feel a little better. At least I take my dressing gown off before I go up the street.

Melancholia, ramblings and the nice things that people do

Here is my ode to Melancholia

How can I ever utter words that can't be said 

How can I write down words which never should be read
These words are mine,  these thoughts are mine,  I have not been led
These are things that stay with you long after you are dead
Why this pain, so devout
I'm no pulpit I make no call
This worship always so cold and cruel
This is it, the sermon over
Lay me down surround by clover
There's no way out, but through that field
No shepherds there will have me yield
I want no part, I have no faith,
Can't feed pretense for other's sake
It is that bad
It's worse than that
All light has left, there's only black.

Wow, sorry, better out than in right? Unexpected poetising (sic) despite currently possessing the power of the shower. I always think of the Addams Family when I hear of Melancholia, an amusing name, not such an amusing state.  However, it’s not a perennial state. I have the most amazingly friends in the world. They constantly do amazing things to try to make things better. One of my very best friends since I was little, (of thirty years tenure indeed!), inhabits another state, so we rarely see each other. Regardless, our friendship has never changed, she has never changed, and I know that she is always thinking of me.  This week, a game’s been invented.  Along, “Where’s Wally?” lines, but in this case, “Where’s the Mushroom Man?”  She hides a toadstool with a somewhat amusing face in various places, including public ones, and shoots a picture to me. It is for to me to find the fungus. I always wanted to be a super sleuth, unfortunately, so far, my powers of observation are somewhat lacking.  I blame the pixels, and that pesky perplexing porcini.

Another one of my very best friends will lie around with me all day long watching TV and talking absolute rubbish, as we’ve done forever.  Another pair of best friend gourmands regularly prepare and deliver great care packages of treats.

Despite being surrounded by these wonderful beings, and many more besides, I can’t help feeling very much on my own.  Disconnected.  Like I’m floating above the world watching things happen. Apart from the obvious depression, at least part of this feeling can be expressed neatly in a word. Solipsism. Philosophically, and metaphorically speaking that is, I'm in a version of such a state. Intrinsically linked to melancholia? Not necessarily, one can certainly exist without the other.  Although, in declaring a state of solipsism, am I then automatically rejecting the existence of all of you, and all of those dear friends I’ve only just now lauded? Ugh, too lofty for this here playground. Regardless, a marvelous word... Solipsism, solipsistic, either way, definitely up there in my favorites, words that is, not states of being. 

Ohh, I sense a tangent. Reciprocity, that's another good one, say it out loud, it's somehow so satisfying, in every way really, I guess. Sound , meaning, etymology.. Ooh etymology. Such a wordy word indeed.  Now, you see what I mean about rambling?  Why all this rambling, I don't know why, there's nothing else to enjoy right now, and I take great solace (there's another!) in words. What are your favourites? Something to think out loud about perhaps...

Post Script

Because every post needs a postcript.  Just in case you were wondering, my face bewilderingly remains infected, and continues to peel off in an unsightly fashion. I've been fashioning myself a niqab from a grey woolly snood to save others from being graced with my face.  I do like to think of others.