"It's not my intention to be maudlin," I keep telling myself. I have to tell myself something to stop thinking about my heart and how it hurts. I follow it with, "you just need to redirect your focus. Take your mind off this. Listen to some music-- but not that sad stuff you like to immerse yourself in-- the stuff that hits your system like heroin. No 'Pink Moon' by Nick Drake, no 'The Trinity Sessions' by The Cowboy Junkies, and definitely no 'The Red Headed Stranger' by Willie Nelson. No Cat Power or Elliott Smith. Absolutely no Laura Nyro and no overwhelming songs by Patti Smith or Antony & the Johnsons."
I pick up my iPod and put on the Bang & Olufsen headphones I bought in Hong Kong back when life seemed less complicated. My past, as I'm sure many people's, has a queer way of seeming easier in retrospect- only because it's finished. It lays there like a stomped on rug-- the patterned fibers crushed into being forgotten.
The future and happiness are both things I fear equally. Neither having happened. When I think of them my stomach sinks and I want to curl up under my blankets and forget about myself and everything else for awhile.
Scrolling through the artists and songs on my iPod I'm not left with any choices.
"Maybe I need to start listening to polka. I wonder if there are any sad polka songs?"