It was
the case the music would, like when I was fifteen, certainly at fifteen, if I
had, say, twenty minutes ‘til the end of class or else twenty minutes ‘til the
end of my after-school job, then “Supper’s
Ready” would just kick in in my head. And “Supper’s Ready” is twenty-three minutes.
And I could hear every note of it play and feel
the texture and see the colors and shape of it turning, playing, and it would
roll in perfect time like a big spiky ball without my asking. Without my trying
or thinking about it.
I cannot describe this, really, as it turns out,
though I believed I could, going in.
But this thing which I cannot describe does not
happen since I got old, and by “old”
I mean older. Older than I was when it would happen. The “Supper’s Ready” thing. Why it does not happen, when I think about
it, which is not a lot, I say is because the music means less to me now or else
because I don’t have a child’s brain now or else because my brain is going too
many different directions all at once or else, less likely though, because I
listen to music less catchy. Or all of those.
All of those.
It is not, definitely not, it does not even
have to be considered as a possibility so I don’t, that the change is owing to
something more along the lines of diminished mental capacity, something
pre-Alzheimer’s or else long-term effects of alcohol abuse. Songs not playing by themselves in my head,
unbidden, it is not a canary in a coalmine, so no.
Friday was twenty-four days since I had a
drink.
Friday was the day a new Aesop Rock album came.
I am reading Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, on Day 26 sober, today, and I sit down to
read only it takes concentration so I go to turn off Aesop Rock to find it is
not on. It’s full blast in my head only it’s not on.
Though I know what is happening, immediately I
know, at first I try not to think about it happening or how long it has been
since it’s happened, fearing that it’s like juggling or playing some
complicated something on piano where, if you think about the very fact that you’re
doing it, it all comes crashing down around you. Only this isn’t like juggling.
It’s not like playing the piano.
One song ends and then it goes into the next song
and it’s turning, pulsating, and there’s light reflecting off it and in it just
like the old days.
The old days of my head.
Not drinking was an experiment is all and if it was only an experiment in order to see what would happen then what do I do now that
something has happened? It seems obvious to say “See what happens on Day 27” but this is getting
ridiculous.
Enjoy the concert.....and yes, wait to see what the next day will bring. Another door opening, another song playing, a new story brewing....how exciting. The neurons are firing. I can't wait to hear what you experience next. You are doing well Harry.
ReplyDeleteThanks! I'm not sure my writing is going better. It might be going worse, actually, but it's sort of worth it. I've been outside of my safe zone all year so far and I'm excited to see what happens next.
DeleteMy theory is that we feel and listen to music more intensely when we are young (teens/20s) because it substitutes for the real world actual and emotional experience which we lack. It's a vicarious way of thinking we understand love, life and the world. Once we experience all those things first hand and truly start to understand the awful truth, music fades in importance because it really is no substitute.
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking of re-reading Dostoevsky too -- "Crime and Punishment} and "The Brothers Karamazov." I read both when I was young (teens/20s) and I bet I'd get a lot more out of them now that I'm 61. I bet they'll seem like different books to me now? Hmmm.
DeleteI read "Brothers Karamazov" last year and absolutely loved it. "Crime and Punishment" seems a lot smaller in scope than that one but that's okay. I might actually go try and have a second go at "Brothers Karamazov" this year now that I understand Dostoevsky a bit better. That book has everything and it's tough to believe that the way they talk about patriotism, money, politics, protest, religion, etc. is so close to how we speak of those same topics now.
DeleteIs it weird that "Crime and Punishment" is one of my favorite books? Dunno. I have it on the drive to this computer because I downloaded a bunch of books when I got back online after months of no internet in 2013, and wanted to have something to occupy my time with the computer when the internet wasn't working again. It turned out to be a good call.
ReplyDeleteMy internal music player is different than it used to be also. I've mostly written it off to the change in my music listening habits. I used to put on an album whenever I had the opportunity, albums were the unit of music listening measure for me, and I know so many of them as single pieces of music in my head that it's staggering.
This is where I could blame the internet for that change if I wanted to, but I doubt the habit would have changed as much if my music collection hadn't been stolen back in 2001.
That's where all of those albums went, and while I can make playlists of them and listen to them that way, playing an actual album is constrained in the other direction by its physical form to be easier to just put it on and listen to it.
Also, I don't get high any more.
Speaking of which, that spiky ball thing is something I associate with Thai stick and also with Carlos Castaneda, both things I have aged out of the consumption of.
The thing that concerns me more is how these changes may be affecting the ongoing guitar music I kind of count on having in my head to prop up my mental state. I won't say that it's gone away, because it hasn't, but it seems to require effort now that it didn't used to.
Making up guitar music is what I supposedly do, and it used to just happen whenever there was space for it in my consciousness. Now it's more like getting ideas and wondering how they would sound.
After my stroke, I was worried that I wouldn't be physically able to play the guitar, but I made it into a challenge and got most of it back. So I have a mixed-up picture of it in my mind now, with various events and circumstances all contributing to my present state, which could be scary and discouraging were it not for the fact that I can still listen to any song that used to be fuel for me, Supper's Ready included, and be right back where I was mentally when the song first imprinted on my memory.
So tomorrow is twenty-six?
April 22 is eleven years for me. Everything still works.
Keep at it. Please.
-Doug in Oakland
My dad had a stroke a few years ago, and afterward, I tried to test his recovery without his knowing. I got my nephew to play "Battleship" with him, which was something he'd never played before, and then asked "Was Dad catching on to the game?" The idea was to see whether he could learn the rules to a new game, and he could, so in my oh-so-scientific way, I declared him fine.
DeleteAnyway, I understand that things like albums don't imprint on old brains the way they do young brains. It's unlikely that I'll find albums as important to me long-term now as I did at 15. But I can keep trying and keep looking for new stuff and I hope I have a few more years before it all starts to fade.
Oh shit, I got the numbers wrong. Sorry about that, you know what I meant.
ReplyDelete-Doug in Oakland
Welcome to the sobriety train. Well, it's less of a train and more of one of those single-person old timey things you see in cartoons where it's a platform riding on a train track with a teeter-toter looking thing that a person pumps up and down. If this isn't just an experiment, if you're ever feeling overwhelmed by the excuses or if you just want to vent to someone who can sympathize or empathize with the struggles of trying not to drink when the whole world is demanding that you do, feel free to email me. Pickleope@gmail.com
ReplyDeleteThank you, Pickleope.
DeleteOn one hand, drinking every night (or virtually every night) for 20 years seems like, you know, a thing. On the other hand, I never drank before work or woke up three states away after losing 2 days, or felt the need to drive drunk, or whatever, so I am hesitant to use a phrase like "alcoholic".
It just seems like a bad thing to do every night for two decades.
Does all that make me a functional alcoholic or does it mean I don't have a problem? Whatever. We'll see. It seems like if I'm looking for excuses why I don't need to stop, then maybe that's a thing in itself.
4 weeks and I'm going to keep going.
“Taking a new step, uttering a new word, is what people fear most.” Goodbye Comfort Zone! Just like the old days.
ReplyDeletebeej in TN
You know, being able to burrow in with a drink and a smoke, write blogs, and not have many financial woes for all these years is an accomplishment.
DeleteIn a few years, I'll probably look back on my lost years of drinking and blogging with a lot of nostalgia and wonder why I quit them. but I'm quitting them.
Time and circumstances are really good at changing the way things work (or the way they don't). When it comes to music, I've experienced selection disorder as I get older. 20 years ago, I seem to love every song I heart. These days, I love a handful... but I love them hard and often.
ReplyDeleteA month of not pickling your liver is a good thing. Even if you never ask yourself what happened.
I figure that if I can physically and mentally handle the break, it can't do any harm. I'm never going to find anyone who says, "No, no, you don't want to ever take a break from drinking every night. Bad idea."
DeleteI wonder if old parts of your younger brain are being freed/uncovered by sobriety?
ReplyDeleteFrom what I've read, alcohol is supposed to screw around with the part of your brain that makes short term memory into long term memories.
DeleteBut surely - surely! - if I screwed up the wiring in my head, it's going to take more than a month to rewire it without alcohol.
I am a synthesis. That’s like refuse engineer, only for someone who plays with synthesizers. I was one long ago. Waaaaaay long ago. In a place where it was considered right up there with voodoo. My point is that in my youth I heard music, noises, saw music escape off the soundboard of a piano as colors. I incorporated the colored bubbles in fiction. I heard prog rock symphonies in my head while driving. I wrote novels in my head. Rather, my HEAD wrote those things, I was along for the ride. Sometimes a song will get stuck in my head, but generally what I hear isn’t retried from experience. I can turn on the synths and get so gone in the moment time disappears. Writing the same. It isn’t age. I’m an old guy. You find that space where you can dial in the cosmic radio and off you go. Muse or whateve4 you call it is on 24/7. If we can’t get there it’s on us. Like trying to write? That’s like doing math. When it rolls out of your head onto the page, that’s the stuff. Elmore Leonard said in response to a question Don’t you hear your characters talking in your head? I do. I don’t talk, characters talk and I get out of the way. The point - listen and it’s there. Missing it means your head’s got a funk. Write your way out of it. You write well. I would say something like write about something more interesting than your take on a Dave Barry. Your bit about being Adri? Well done. She didn’t get away from you, that was the light show taking over. Isn’t sexism in marketing genius? Write. Forget drinking. Walk away. Write, don’t drink. If it will work for blow and cigarettes, it’s gotta work for alcohol. Keep on.
ReplyDeleteThat's probably good advice. The only advice, probably. Keep writing and write my way out of any corners. That's going to be my attitude this year, anyway, and although it might only be a tiny percentage of what I write that ends up here, getting the voice to go by itself in my head is probably what I'm aiming for...
DeleteFirst congrats on your alcohol free days. Writing is a good habit to replace a bad habit. This musical mystery tour of yours is interesting. My mind can wandered to other places while listening to music. I've never had the experience you describe. Wishing you more enjoyable experiences and looking forward to reading about them.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Bill. I stopped smoking and drinking (and cut back on blogging) at the same time, and tried to replace those things with exercise and the planning of a couple new projects. I figure if I can confuse the addictive part of my brain, I might beat it.
DeleteContinued good luck to you on your abstinence, Harry. I am on day 25 but I am only suppose to give it up for the month. However, it has brought me a lot of clarity and made me realize that I probably did drink too much so who knows if I will partake after the calendar turns to February. Keep fighting the good fight.
ReplyDeleteI don't know when I'll say this on the blog, but I made it 31 days and now that I did, um, take a night off, I think I might go back to it. I can't find a good reason not to, although I suppose half the point of bad habits is that there's no GOOD reason to keep doing them.
DeleteIt's a process.
See what happens on day 50.
ReplyDeleteI think that for health reasons, I should keep on keeping on even if I see no benefit.
DeleteBut we'll see.
Once, for Lent, I gave up red meat. Then I had ham for Easter and thought, "Now what?" After that I never ate red meat for about 15 or 18 years. Just recently, I started eating pork on a very occasional basis. Not sure why I'm telling you this, or if it is even remotely similar to what you're doing. But somehow I like the idea of giving something up, denying yourself. Not something like chocolate or cameras - that would go beyond noble. I'm not that good.
ReplyDeleteI never eat sweets, but I've considered giving up meat for years. I'm not that strong.
DeleteI think most addictions are pretty similar in more ways than they are different. At least I see enough similarities in the way I detox after giving up internet time and giving up cigarettes that I have to assume so.