Asininity

I can't remember ever feeling this raw and vulnerable, and yet, it doesn't seem all that unfamiliar. I was already a mess- despite having had a peaceful day and a quiet but entertaining evening thanks to the comments feature, the phone, and IM- when I loaded the iPod Lenny sent me (drag me kicking and screaming into the 21st century, will you) with the mp3 files already on my Vaio. They turned out to be the music I burned for Dad's funeral, and any song might have been better than the first one I heard, Andie McDowell singing- each tremolo ringing with vivid honesty- "Sittin' by the Side of the Road" from the soundtrack to Michael, a movie Dad adored. So then I was a bawling basket case for a while. Now I'm the strangest combination of wistful peace and misery. It's confusing.

I hate to use the term "depression," but I just can't get it together. I used to wonder why they depicted people in the movies just laying there looking pensive and teary-eyed. I can normally daydream while I'm functioning. Tonight it's all I can do to pick up the objects that make me happiest. (Now it's Norman Greenbaum's "Spirit in the Sky." Now Johnny Cash, "Orange Blossom Special.")

Some incredible things are happening to me right now. I think about them constantly. (Bonnie Raitt, "Feels Like Home." What she's singing about is all I ever asked for.) So why do I feel like I'll never see them through, despite evidence to the contrary? Why am I so exhausted? (Alison Krauss, "Down in the River to Pray.") I'm still making plans. By Sunday I should be put back together, a masterpiece.

This iPod may revolutionize my life.

You just can't take me seriously.