The Road to Melancholy

This is supposed to be a celebratory post.  I got word last night from my good and dear friend Andy Rojas that he has officially released the first song that we’ve been working on lo these past few months.   I’m supposed to be sitting here telling you all how wonderful it sounds, from the deft and sensitive drumming of yours truly (not really, all I hear are the mistakes) to the seriously good cello work of a guy named Mike Lunapiena, as well as the excellent vocals of Sarah Boyd all in service to Mr. Rojas’ song.   And it is, to my ears, a very good song and I am proud to be a part of it.  (Please listen or D/L here for free.)

This is supposed to be a revelatory moment for me, after years of practice without a purpose to have finally produced something musical that is both tangible and not embarrassing should have me giddy and beaming with pride.  In a way, I am, but with recent events both public and private it is, at best, difficult to muster up any kind of excitement, or, at least match half of Andy’s excitement over how well the entire project is going.

Given all of the changes that have happened in my life in the past three weeks, the job-loss, near-loss of a dear friend, another being diagnosed with colon cancer, the Japanese disaster, Libya, Bahrain and the coming economic storm here at home I should be a complete basket case.

The better word is the one in the title, melancholy.  Resigned to the current fate of the moment I am soberly pushing forward as best as possible.  I take my cues from another friend who has been through enough difficulty in the past four years for any twelve people: make a list, set a schedule, cross off tasks and, most importantly, keep moving.  This is all you can do when you feel like everything is one step away from a spasm not unlike the earthquake in Japan, one that will re-make the world as we know it.

There is land to clear for the goats, chickens to feed and water, a job to find, eggs to collect, a daughter to keep fed and educate, a market to watch, a garden to tend, dishes to wash, music to record, stories to write.  You’ll notice the order of operations there.  As much as I want my creative projects to be important it’s just not possible.  As much as I need to develop new skills/opportunities the time to return on investment of that time is too great for current circumstances, be it writing a book or expanding our food production to include dairy goats.

The economist in me says it’s natural.  As things change and new information is gleaned new priorities emerge and different paths must be taken/forged.   This time away from the daily grind of employment needs to be used productively to build a foundation for the future, whatever that may be.   I guess this post is a statement of that.  Now, to follow through.

The song we’ve released is about a man with a lifetime of regrets, I have those as well.  Not as dramatic, thankfully, as the man in the song, but they exist.  Today is another opportunity to incrementally push forward.

Ta,

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