This took me probably about 107 attempts to record. I think it took so long mainly because of what I wrote about in this Medicated Artist post over on MusicVomit.net.
But also because the headlines for this week had way too many words in them. THANKS CNN. I thought you were supposed to be making the news simpler. Easier. Less words next week, please!
Now back to your day….
Here’s a short report on how it feels when your head seems detached from your neck and your brain is jello and, also, your hands don’t seem to lay still.
What I mean is, over the past week or so, when I’ve picked up an instrument to play music, I feel bizarre. Like, it’s a different body holding the instrument, or maybe a different head sending the electrodes to my fingers to make things happen. And singing sounds like when you hear a car stereo go by your window at night. When the noise mingles with all the cicadas.
But, apart form that, I’ll say that at least I picked up instruments (and even recorded some songs). I’ve done that so little over the past year, or two years, or, even probably, three years. Just pick up a guitar or mouth harp or banjo or slide whistle to screw around with. To remember old songs. To struggle. To learn. To just enjoy it. I don’t know where I lost that along the way, but I did.
It’s not like the more I started performing, the more playing music became like a job (and thus a BIG BORING CHORE). It’s more like, I just didn’t give it the time. Or I didn’t take the time. Or I didn’t think I had the time. Or, maybe even, music just wasn’t giving me what I needed. Or I wasn’t taking from it what I needed. So maybe it did become a big boring chore? Hmm….
But, anyway, the past week or so, I felt like it was an okay thing to do, even though I felt like I was melting or like I had a cactus in my chest while I was doing it.
And, I don’t think I’ll even say: “I have NO IDEA why I decided to start playing music again.” I’ll just go ahead a chalk it up to the antidepressant medication. It’s not like it’s working in a way where all of a sudden I say things like, “Oh, hey, I’m HAPPY!” It’s not even been anywhere close to that. But I could probably say something like this: “Oh, hey, I’ve been doing things like writing and playing music, and I’ve been enjoying them lately, even though I’ve still been depressed and acting like a SADSACK.”
And this isn’t to say that I’m also thinking all these positive thoughts about these enjoyable events. I’m still able to tell myself afterwards, “Well, there’s no point in this. Well, why are you doing that? Well, geez, WHAT THE FUCK?” So that’s been really great and not frustrating AT ALL.
I’ve also felt a little bit like a WINE SNAKE lately. Yeah, go ahead a click that link. That’s how I feel. It’s sort of scary to not feel like yourself. Or, maybe a better way to say that is, not so much feel like a different person, but, rather, sort of feel like a different version of your own self. And you aren’t sure if that different version is good or bad. It’s just different and feels odd so it’s throwing you off.
Sort of like if you’re stuffed into a bottle and then a pot of hot pickling liquid is poured over you and the bottle is corked BUT YOU DON’T DIE. (And, of course, whoever uncorks that bottle better be prepared for a FANG TO THE FLESH.)
So that’s something to report in this Medicated Artist experiment. Conclusions so far:
Still a SADSACK, but able to do some enjoyable things again, while feeling a little strange.
The end. Goodnight.
If you’ve been reading my Medicated Artist posts, then you’ll know why it may have been such a struggle for me to record this song. I’m not really sure why, but it took every ounce to just do it.
Weird.
Anyway, this is the 93rd version of this series and I don’t see any point in stopping. Sometimes I think I should, but can’t after reading a headline like this:
Miss America: Butt glue and more highlights
It’s funny on it’s own. Someone took the time to write that. Someone brought home the bacon by writing that. But then, also think about how, maybe, the same person wrote this headline:
Multiple bodies inside navy yard
See how it becomes even more insane? Why do I need to know about both of those things in such close context?
Is someone who’s really excited about Miss America also going to be interested in reading news items about death? It’s possible, I guess, but I wonder….
Can you retain any of that information that your bombarded with? And how would you even read the thousands of different headlines that are on CNN.com every single day? IMPOSSIBLE.
Even if you just skim the brief, somewhat-vague-somewhat-descriptive headlines, you’ll never remember more than one or two. I can’t. But, maybe my memory just isn’t good.
Are one or two headlines all the information you need to make it through the day? Maybe so.
Usually, I just want to drink coffee all day and be left alone to think about donuts and when I should get a haircut. So, I can get by on one or two headlines.
Sometimes I wonder about everyone else, though. How does everyone else see this world? How do they navigate it? What are their relationships like? What do they hold close? And how much do they let out?
And then I go back to considering sprinkles or no sprinkles or an afternoon haircut or an evening one.
Note: Now, I know I said I wouldn’t really get into the day-to-day of how I’m feeling in these Medicated Artist posts and I’d stick to mainly just talking about how medication is effecting my ability to create art, but this is directly related to that.
I’m not sure why, but while I was driving back home from my day job today I was all of a sudden in a TERRIBLE MOOD. Yes, sitting all day in one spot at a desk that COMPLETELY SURROUNDS YOU will do that to anyone. It just wears you down, which is weird because it’s the most non-physically-straining and non-mentally-straining thing to do. Ever. But, I don’t think that’s what it was that got to me.
I wasn’t feeling worn down. I hardly really feel that way much at all anymore. I have ENERGY! I can feel my heart GOING! I feel TWITCHY! But not in a bad way. Not necessarily in a good way either. Just feels different. Or, I’ve felt that feeling before, but not for extended amounts of time. It’d come and go. Like…it’d be there coming down from the stage after a performance. Or, immediately in the aftermath of writing a song that took 3 minutes to complete. Or, even after seeing a really giant spider stringing a web from the garage tops in the alley.
So, I’ve got that going on. And sometimes it’s hard to know what to do with that energy. Especially while sitting all day in one spot, like I said.
And then sitting in one spot in traffic.
And then Busta Rhymes comes up in the song shuffle and you start thinking to yourself, “Hey, I’m just never going to perform music ever again. I just don’t want to. There’s no need at all. And, I’ll also never write anything ever again. It’s stupid to do that. I feel okay and I’ve got all this energy and, yeah, that also makes me feel really terrible.” (You think a lot to yourself sitting in traffic.)
Like, the only thing you know you want to do is NOT play guitar, or not write, or not do that thing you love most and makes you feel human EVER AGAIN. And that’s like just handing you a shovel and saying, “Here, dig yourself a hole and then just KEEP DIGGING.” Eventually the sides of the hole cave in when you get too far down, ya dig? The Earth piles on top of you and you think there’s pretty much nothing else.
But then you hear a song that you wrote about your daughter. (Yes, I listen to my own songs. They help me know where I’ve been and where I’m headed. They tell my story, in a way, I suppose. And it’s good to remember that sometimes. It’s also good to say, “Geez, that song was bad. Can’t believe I let anyone else hear that.” It can be humbling. [Yes, this is how you spell “humbling.” I checked. It’s weird, though, isn’t it?] But also, I have a HUGE EGO.)
And then you hear Sister Rosetta Tharpe sing “What He Done For Me?” And you think about how it’d be a good idea to write on your blog about how low you can get and how it just comes on all of a sudden. And (maybe because of all that) you then have like 4 or 5 ideas for new songs or new directions to go.
That can be how it is.
Which is weird to think that just considering DOING SOMETHING makes my mood shift like that. It’s like a flood coming down. You just gotta jump out of the boat or roll with it.
It’s a strange feeling and I’m not sure if the medication I’m taking is the cause or the effect of that. If it’s clouding up my brain. If it’s making everything move so fast. If it’s a good fast or a bad fast. Or if it’s not doing anything at all.
Sometimes it’s hard to know what’s going on at all. Sometimes everything makes sense.
I’m not really up for writing a bunch of observations like this, but I’m going to do it anyway. Sort of, like, do it for the sake of doing it, ya know? Most of the time that helps me get through some sort of creative block. Like, I’ll just not want to write any music or ANYTHING at all, but I know if I force myself then I’ll get through. That’s what the New Song Blog is all about. That’s what every iteration of The Talkin’ Headline Blues is all about. That’s also, actually, what these Medicated Artist posts are all about too. Just a simple way to keep working.
Now, enough of that and on to some observations on how the antidepressant medication effected me the first week. Or, how it did or did not effect my writing, music, and all that. Here goes (in list form!):
So, I stuck pretty close to just talking about how the medication is effecting my creativity. (I think I did that. Did I do that?) So far, I haven’t experienced any of the fears I talked about in my first two posts. That’s something, I suppose. Or, maybe the drugs haven’t even started working yet. Then what? Am I to believe that I don’t even need them? Hmm…
Music Vomit 