~ The New Loneliness
To the eerie opening strings and rolling fog of that Lee Hazelwood/Nancy Sinatra classic “Some Velvet Morning,” I begin writing again.
At the same time, I’m fielding messages at Yahoo Messenger. A woman I know is taking a trip to Singapore. A lot of people I know go to Singapore, which is strange since I live in rural Illinois. But a lot of people I know don’t live anywhere near rural Illinois. We all only half-exist to each other. This modern cure for loneliness is the new loneliness.
Also, at the same time, I’m sitting at my office, under dimming and blinking flourescent tubes. They’re burning out at nearly the same pace that I am. But what am I burning out on, exactly? My career? My lovelife? My clothes? My face? My general surroundings and current prospects?
All of it.
At age 38, I’ve reached a dead end in the maze. A summer of seeking health, wealth and self-actualization has given way to another cold, sighing autumn. I made far less progress than I hoped, but — I made a little. Now what? Now what? I feel like such a baby these days. But I also feel old. I feel same old, same old. And here I am complaining.
It must change. Not by itself, not by the grace of any higher being that might happen to notice, not by fire or flood or a sudden windfall of money. It must change by my own doing. By my own hard choices and new regrets.
My first entry back to blogging is the last one I hoped to write. My slow nervous breakdown has gone digital and it’s going public.
Welcome to the new loneliness.
** To hear “Some Velvet Morning” click on the link below and go to Mr. Last Light’s playlist. The first 15 songs, from “Some Velvet Morning” to “The Greatest” are my autumn list ~ a cozy swirl of autumnal melancholy, nocturnal reflection, bright orange heartache and pure pop bliss. Enjoy.
