A cabin in the woods

I see a wall and I want to punch through it. I think about tomorrow and my thoughts darken.

People around me keep letting me down. Turning their coats. Slipping from one skin to another, making me question whose face stares back at me today. Their wavelength is so alien to me I feel like I'm tapping morse code in front of baby seals.

By comparison, yesterday was far better. The day before that trumped the lot by a mile. Before that - I don't know anymore. It's lightyears behind. I don't like where this is going.

I don't know how to respond when people I like turn on me. I don't handle it very well when my appreciation and affection is met with aggression, scorn or disrespect. Even if it's merely overlooked. It's a pretty selfish viewpoint, I know, but I won't apologize for it. I feel hurt and insulted, because I consider my offering a rare gift. Something bestowed to a limited few.

Respect is the most valuable commodity I have to give. Warmth and camaraderie are in bigger supply, because at the end of the day I'm perhaps even a surprisingly gregarious fellow. But don't think for a second I would waste my better angels on people I wouldn't raise above some kind of invisible bar. If this is neglected or indeed unrequited, it's never forgotten. Ever. I will never look at you the same way again. This I know of myself beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I expect them to fall and they fly higher. I wake up a surprise richer and an old thorn poorer. My anticipation grows. I expect them to soar and they hurl down, dragging me along for as long as I allow them to. The cynic within merely raises an eyebrow and retorts; "what did you expect?" My heart grows a spark dimmer. It goes from one extreme to the other and in the end I always feel naive regardless of the outcome.

The coming four days will be spent recording with the band. God, I hope it doesn't end up the fucking train wreck I anticipate it will. Perhaps I see more than is there, but it does feel like the energy has dwindled from a flood to a trickle and it dampens my spirits. From anticipation and drive to an almost pacifying sense of offhandedness and unenthusiasm. Indifference even - my nemesis. This paradigm shift is counterproductive and unwelcome, not to mention a surprise guest, yet I feel it taking hold of me like a virus spreading from carrier to carrier. It bumps me off kilter. The light is green yet the sloth, turtle and snail in the car in front won't budge. Either I'll turn around, pass them by or we'll have a fender bender - the gas pedal beckons and I long to stomp on it. I can't - won't - drag this cart of stones on my own, not unless it's solely mine to carry.

Some days I want nothing more than a cabin in the woods, offering no more than meager accomodation for my art and expression. Those days have been growing in numbers lately. It isn't the first time.