The Lapsed Humanist
Periodic releases of excess ruminating
Despite spending hours creating a nifty, colourful editorial calendar for myself, things have not gotten off the bump just yet. Last week I missed both of my scheduled deadlines due to a lack of spoons. Depression, man, it will lay to waste the best of plans and schemes. But, it's a new week. There's a sliver of sunshine outside in East Vancouver. Not enough to cause a lot of skin damage, but enough to get the leaf-blowers and weed-whackers in the neighbourhood out in full springtime chorus. This recent depressive swoon, while demonstrably unfun, was mitigated by the fact I was able to sleep. I don't know about other depression sufferers, but the correlation between sleep and depression is profound at times. At times, a long sleepless spell seems to lead to depression. Other times, the depression hits and sleep becomes impossible. I should research this area, because if there's anything more common to my life than depression, it is poor sleep. In any case, I have had some wonderful rest this past week, despite the grey energy of my mental state. This has, however, not only impacted my blogging, but some volunteer work I have recently started. Or have tried to. Deadlines and depression have essentially set me back about a week or so in a lot of commitments. Cue the depression guilt. Always fun wading through that murk. I have a mixed bag of priorities this week, including job searching, researching my next article for Vancouver is Awesome, getting my taxes done etc. Somehow, I will get the majority of it done. No assurances that I am full and clear of the sway of my depression yet; best I can do is try to get as much work done as I can, while I can. I will deal with the grey shit when/if it rears its head again. Sidenote: part of the reason I feel better today, aside from sleep? I took a long break from my socials yesterday, in particular, Twitter. Coincidence? Postscript: On a culture note, there is a new LP out by Sleaford Mods. You should check it out, asap. Perfect balm for these infuriating, dangerous, and stupid times. The LP is called UK GRIM, so it leaves no doubt as to where its locus of aural attention is at. Even those of us outside the UK will find plenty to latch onto: sick beats, sweet grooves, and clever-if-sweary wordplay. Painfully and playfully relevant, it could be the LP of the year. Vancouver fans take note: the band returns to these parts in a few short weeks. Enjoy the video below. Consider it your appetizer. Cheers, Jason
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Forty-seven, hey? Inching ever closer to the fifty mark, with the achy knees, stiff back, and pinched shoulder to prove it. Jeez, I recall turning twenty-five, or a Quarter as I told my girlfriend at the time, as though it was last month. Despite all of the existential gloom, it was a wonderful weekend to slow down, enjoy the pace, and reflect on life to this point. I spent as little time online as possible; I ignored my email, quickly archiving things that I otherwise might have read; Aside from a couple of pints on my birthday eve, I avoided alcohol, although the caffeine intake was at least doubled; I consumed a metric tonne of carbs; but mostly, I just laid low at home with a steady stream of music playing. Including a lot of Lou Reed and Robyn Hitchcock, who shares a birthday with me. Frankly, it was glorious. I am not one for grand festivities; one or two phone calls with family and friends is good for me. Cards, if they come, well wishes via text or SM are all great, but not expected. A friend wanting to buy me lunch is nice, but it's more than I expect. Thing is, my birthday does not depress me or scare me or whatever. It's just a day on the calendar. Sure, I will take advantage to do a little bit less, but it really doesn't matter to me. Just another day. This year, it proved to be a much-needed brain break. We are all different, of course, and there is a fair bit of privilege to be able to loaf for a few days without guilt. I admit that. But I have to say, I feel less frazzled this Monday morning. I feel nominally alert. The week ahead seems an easy task to accomplish. This is not my normal Monday headspace. And to be honest, this feels really nice. Anyway, on the subject of Lou Reed and Robyn Hitchcock earlier. Reed's birthday is the day before Robyn's and mine. My affinity for Reed goes back to '91. Thanks to Oliver Stone's movie The Doors, I was introduced to the Reed-penned 'Heroin' by the Velvet Underground. The lyrics, the performance, the rising tension of Moe Tucker's drumming ... it all had a bodily effect on me. Seriously. For the first several plays of that song, it threatened my breathing. But oh, the imagery Reed created in that space. Magic. As a sixteen-year-old, Reed, both as a solo and a member of the Velvets, had a profound influence on me. More so than the grunge of the day. When Reed died in a decade a go, I was gutted. His journey complete, to our detriment. So every year as our birthdays roll around, I play a lot of Lou. Invariably, the song posted below, creeps into the mix. I admit I am not sure what the song is about, but its mood puts me on a reflective path, especially as I find myself "heading towards the finish line." Take a listen and tell me your thoughts on the track, on Lou, his work, or anything else I have mentioned here in this scattershot post. Until next time, Cheers. |
AuthorAll posts in this (infrequent) blog follow CP style. Facts are checked by me, but I am open to debate their veracity. All media will be credited as correctly as possible. Archives
January 2024
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