I find it somewhat stupid (and yet fitting) that the best cure for what had been ailing me was my own foolishness.
On Monday evening I spent some time with Lindsay and during the ride home I told her all about the anger and frustration I had been feeling. She's like Anwen, Lindsay is, disarming. After I told her everything, I felt so impossibly foolish, as if the words leaving my mouth were proof that nothing I was saying mattered.
I've been listening to a lot of post-rock-esque music these past couple days. It has been having a very good effect on me, places a blanket around you and just sort of squeezes, the noise and the force that to some would be mistaken as violent are actually just the outpouring of need, inexpressible through any other medium, the attempt to simply push yourself out, forward, as if through your chest.
On Monday evening I spent some time with Lindsay and during the ride home I told her all about the anger and frustration I had been feeling. She's like Anwen, Lindsay is, disarming. After I told her everything, I felt so impossibly foolish, as if the words leaving my mouth were proof that nothing I was saying mattered.
I've been listening to a lot of post-rock-esque music these past couple days. It has been having a very good effect on me, places a blanket around you and just sort of squeezes, the noise and the force that to some would be mistaken as violent are actually just the outpouring of need, inexpressible through any other medium, the attempt to simply push yourself out, forward, as if through your chest.