More Melancholia

There follows naught but non-medical jib. Those not interested in the maudlin naval gazing of a small fungus, best look away now.

I am in particularly bleak mood. There are, I'm sure, a number of reasons for his. There always are.

Whenever I feel like this, I get the urge to bloggin'. It often doesn't last, and I let it slide. I do not know if that's for the best or not. We may go some way to finding out in the next few minutes. Anything can happen in the next half hour?

A busy-ish weekend, but still so much to do. I spend a lot of time griping about the passing of time, and how old I feel. If you're older than me, that'll seem ludicrous. Younger... just wait. I feel it in my nights more than anything. I used to do whole weekends on call, Friday Morning to Monday Evening, with whatever sleep we could snatch. Actually, with two of us on the house, we'd be guaranteed at least one decent night's sleep, so it wasn't bad at all. Even a few years ago, I could do four nights, or five, and g out at the end of them; lead a productive day, and fall blissfully asleep in synch.

Now...

Two, or three, and I'm finished. Worked Wednesday and Thursday; tried to stay up Friday, but fell asleep. Managed a few hours then dragged meself out to see The Girl's play. An ambitious reworking of Marat/Sade. Beautiful and talented. I continue intoxicated. Dinner afterwards with her folks who'd come to see the play too. A good sign? On balance, not, it would seem.

Anyway, I woke at 3. This often happens to me now after nights, but I could not get back to sleep. These days I interpret this as a symptom of low grade depression. I'm tired but my mind won't let me sleep, and I sit, or toss and turn, or pace. All miserably.

I eventually got back to sleep around 8, meaning to get up for 10, and go shopping. When I finally surfaced at 4, it was time to go see some old friends of mine. One bright moment in my fundament. More insomnia was to follow, but at least I managed shopping today.

I can only hope sleep will not evade me this evening. Work awaits, and that usually centres me.

Ball of Confusion

Frankly I'm a little confused.

Had a grand old weekend, although if I'm honest, was probably a bit too drunk and loud. And annoying. In fact I'm lucky my friends put up with me.

Regardless, we had gathered at a friend's house in the flat east of this grand country of ours. A pre Christmas Christmas party, if you will. I asked the girl if she wanted to come. I did this a while ago, while feeling pleased with myself, or optimistic, or high, or something. I didn't think she'd say yes.

But she did, and so I had contrived to spend 24 hours in her company. I'm not sure I distinguished myself, unless she really likes rude songs sung overly loudly. I was also reminded , if I needed reminding, that I am not a young man anymore. Mostly this reminder came in the form of trying too hard to compete in drinking games. Put in my place by a Mary's Man. The shame of it. Time to hang my drinking hat up next to my dancing shoes.

So I had had plans of an attempted wooing. These seem scuppered when I had remarked how we were an anti-cliche, in that we have dinner, she asks me in for coffee, and then... we drink coffee. Of course, says she. I'd be horrified if you tried to jump me.

Horrified.

Let that one roll around in your mouth for a while, if you will.

Horrified.

No, I can't put a positive spin on it either.

Fair enough, I guess that's cleared that up, anyway. Best behaviour, then.

It seemed to work well enough, although my friends were keen to establish us as a couple. I think it's the novelty factor for them. Drunkeness ensued, in case you hadn't gathered, and I sustained a small, but annoyingly painful head injury. Tried, and failed to stay up for the Hatton fight.

But the morning... the morning brought not only the mother of all hangovers, but an interesting sleeping arrangement. Not planned, I insist. Not since I heard the word horrified, anyway. And while all that went on was sleeping, it was, shall we say, very companionable. Was this my time; a test?

Horrified, you'll remember. Well, I didn't see evidence of horror, but I'm still as confused as a fella can be.

Can men and women be just friends? Even if they're very good friends?

I'm no clearer knowing, frankly.

Last business:
Historical note. I've just watched the Alamo. I'm sure the thing is riven with historical inaccuracies, but one in particular has got my goat. General Houston makes reference to Wellington choosing the battleground at Waterloo. He didn't. While he generally preferred to fight on his terms, on this occasion, Napoleon stole a march on him, humbugged him, if you will, and he had to fight there to stop Napoleon splitting the Allied armies. So there.

Music Nazi recommends What We Did On Our Holidays, by Fairport Convention. Do it. You know you need more folk in your life.

Untitled

Silly o'clock on a Saturday morning. I've been awake since two, staring at the clock. Bugger.

A fresh day awaits me, replete with all the detritus that Big Teaching Hospital can throw at me. Weekend days are a little like nights, inasmuch as you're pretty much on your own. And busy. My nights have thrown my body clock off, hence my nocturnal roamings.

Had dinner with her again last night. Am equally sure, in equal measures, that I love her, and that she doesn't love me. Still, her friendship enriches me. I feel better for it, even if my soul aches. I wonder if, deep down, I know this is for the best. I am around so little, and our paths so divergent, that I wonder if we could ever be anything more. Perhaps, on some level I prefer it this way. Unrequited love... All the ache, none of the mess? Maybe I'm not explaining it right; I'm hopeless.

I've basically spent the last two days asleep; hence nil to blog. I'm pleased to see my friend blogging; I think he'll find it helpful. Therapeutic. Some shit like that.

I almost saw an accident recently, which was odd. I was at a petrol station, buying petrol, as one does. As I was going to get back into my car, I heard a loud crack noise. Not quite a bang, or a crash, but you get the idea. By the time I turned around, it was all over. A car had wrapped itself around the signpost for the petrol station. I had real trouble getting my brain to accept that all was still. That it had all happened. Although I could rationalise that by the time I'd heard the noise, it was all over, so by the time I'd turned round all would be quiet, it didn't seem to make any sense.

Go figure.

They guys in the car were ok; I think even the car wasn't too beat up. But the physics of it confused me. Still does, I think.

Random? For sure, but what did you expect at 5 in the a.m?

Oh, and fucking Mo'vember is over, and the Mo is gone.

Interlude

I'm in a blue mood today; which is disappointing.

Bad news, bad news, come to me where I sleep.

Had a grand old day yesterday; pottered about at home, actually getting a few things done, which is unusual. Then in the eve, out with an old friend, for a slightly surreal evening. First, multi-national big band jazz, in an historic town. Then we slipped out to a local pub for beer, and encountered an energetic four piece rock covers band. Oh, and a late licence. The pub patrons were an interesting bunch, who really did dance like no-one was watching. Took a bit of getting used to. But a grand old time... except.

My heart is lost. I am infatuated by someone new. Since my beloved left me to the NHS, I have been solo Shroom. It's probably what I deserve. But I am head over heels, intoxicated, can't get enough of her. So, consequently, every time I'm anywhere near her, I fall apart.

I think she knows. And I think she doesn't feel the same way. But maybe...
I guess we're pretty good friends, and I am torn between preserving the status quo, and playing my hand, terrified I'll fall flat, and that'll be all she wrote. But maybe... she's waiting for me to make the first move..? Every time I even think about it, all marrow, all moral fibre deserts me...

I am pathetic. But she is fabulous...

Then today I heard more bad news. It really puts my 'bad news' into perspective. Two of my very good friends have run afoul of the occasional shitstorms that life throws at you. It seems unlikely that either of them read this, but maybe they know someone, who knows someone, etc, who might.

So, no details,

But it's put a real downer on me. I feel oddly disconnected from life. It seems more unfair than usual.

I can only wish them well, and try to be around a bit more for them, for what it's worth.

Lastly, today we remembered the dead. Whether they agreed, or understood fully what was asked of them, they offered a sacrifice beyond what most of us can comprehend. We should never forget.