My blogging has been spotty as usual. Generally, due to a lack of anything to say, or anything interesting to bestow upon anybody. Lately, it's been more of a case of not wanting to depress anyone. Nobody reads the freaking thing anyway. Who in the living hell am I kidding?
I've been drawn very heavily into revisiting music that I haven't heard for years. Robin Trower's "Bridge Of Sighs", at the top of this list. Listening to the lyrics, it isn't hard to see the reason.
"A cold wind blows. The Gods look down in anger on this fool child. Life's so unforgiving and why so cold. Been a long time crossing the bridge of sighs."
Its like the small slope my therapy dog and I have to pass through on our morning walks. It's heavily covered in snow and ice, left behind by the recent storms. Rainy insists on going through it, even though she slips and slides. I barely make it, having to hold on to a chain-link fence next to the pavement, to avoid falling and trying simultaneously to maintain a grip on the dog's lead.
This icy hill could easily be a metaphor for my entire life. Sliding backwards, never being able to manage a grip on happiness or self-realisation.
I've fought depression for the forty-plus years I have been living on this planet, in a body I hardly recognise as my own, anymore. The struggles with heart disease and diabetes have not helped in the least.
My job does little to abate the frustration, anger and sadness. It usually fuels the fires of all three. Working with idiotic children who I'm old enough to be the biological father of. Non-comittal managers and last but certainly not least, a general public that believes that the meaner you are to those who are "below your station" in life, the more you will be satisfied with your service. If it sounds like I'm whining, you would be well off the mark. Two fingers up and happy landings on an f'ing chocolate bar. :P
Let's see how anyone likes going to a cash machine to take out forty bucks, so that the bill collectors will stop nagging you, only to find out that you have no money. Sorry. It all got spent on food and rent. Actually, it barely covered even that. I've been living out of charitably donated tins.
How about having your utilities cut off, on the eve of a Winter storm? Sounds like buckets of fun, doesn't it? This is what it's like to be dirt poor.
That said, I can't take any more of it.
Uncle, or whatever you shout when you have simply had enough and don't see matters improving one damn bit.
If I don't see the dawn of another crappy day, it wouldn't bother me in the least. In fact, just the opposite.