Blue Notes

I would characterize the last couple of weeks as being a tumultuous journey through some kind of greasy haze. The darkness of depression, or as David Foster Wallace once opined, the great white shark of pain, took root in my mind and snuffed out the azure flame of peace that I had been experiencing previously. That’s what depression does, it knocks you to the ground with the violent swing of a concrete bat. Everything is groggy and unfocused, and your body is nothing more than a smoldering husk of deadweight, a dying ember of skin and bone. Your depraved mind latches on to every negative synapse firing in your diseased brain, explores it, dissects it, until you convince yourself that you are incurable, you are nothing. You’re just taking up space, mi amigo. You will get intimate with your couch and try to sleep away the fog, a silly ruse to numb the ache. But the shadows don’t play fair, they don’t peruse a rule book before inhabiting your everything, they will hammer you into submission without remorse. They will hover over you like a blanket of avenging vapors, haunting you, spooking your frayed thoughts. They will turn off the lights. It’s a joyride, I highly recommend it.

Hopefully, when you’re in this state of rapid deterioration, you don’t have any other issues floating around in your head, because the great white shark doesn’t like to swim with the other desperate residents splashing around inside your splintered cranium. For example, if you covet something or someone, if you have this pulsating desire to immerse yourself in this thing you must have, it probably won’t end well for you. See, the depression will mock you, berate you, nudge you to reveal yourself in all your demented splendor. Do it, man. Do it. And when things fall apart, when you plunge recklessly into a fool’s gambit, the black cloud will laugh maniacally at your weakness, your insignificance, your acrid stench of failure. And the object of your misguided and delusional attempt at some form of twisted acceptance might chuckle at your grandiose naïveté as well. Like I said, a joyride. A frightening one. Close your eyes and grab the safety bar with all your strength, white-knuckle that steel fucker.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a music post. On a brighter note, depression will eventually dissipate to the point that you can stay upright, stay functional, and begin to put the carnage in the rearview mirror. Whenever you enter a battle against the well-armed force of negativity and self-loathing, you won’t escape completely unscathed. You will wear a coat of wounds for what seems like an eternity, but you will survive. You will wipe your brow and notice that the pain has been vanquished, you will feel okay. And that’s where I’m at currently, I feel better and somewhat optimistic, if not a bit humbled. Plus, I have some cheesy breadsticks in the fridge, and that’s a good thing. (Dream small, folks)

Below are a few songs that soothed me as I tried to claw my way out of the hole of nothingness, or a couple of tunes that pushed me further down, a pile of lyrical dirt on an exhausted shovel. Take a listen, yo.

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