Moving forward

Listened to new music again yesterday. New albums by Grandaddy, Elbow and Cloud Nothings. It’s been awhile. The last new album I listened to was Metallica’s Hardwired… to Self-Destruct, and that was in early January. Since then it’s all been throwback music, mostly from the 90s, my decade, a long ago and sorely missed period of my life.

For the last couple of weeks, my life seemed to have hit a snag. Static. Unexciting. Plain, boring, dead. Even the comics and books and magazines I read were old shit. Ditto the series I watched (Jessica Jones, from 2015). It was as if my psyche has lost its interest on new things and, hence, the future. I heard friends yak about the stuff that’s making them excited for 2017 — from new Stranger Things season in November to Megadeth on Pulp Summer Slam in April — but the feeling won’t rub on me. I sat there hearing them but at the same time having an out-of-body experience.

“Absence/lack of excitement. Tell-tale sign of depression.” Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell me about it.

And Wednesday last week I exploded into rage. Long story — I could write it but won’t. Too ugly. Too painful. And what’s the point?

But yesterday I listened to new music again. And I’m looking forward to watching John Wick 2 this weekend, and curious about the upcoming sitcom Powerless, and seriously considering catching Megadeth for the second time in these shores. All this I take as a sign that I’m finally moving forward now.


Playlist: HardlineDouble Eclipse

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