As I’m typing #9 (actually should have typed #10), of course, #9 is running through my head, so put on noise-cancelling head phones and listened to #9 going from ear to ear. No. 9 Revolution reminds me of my druggy days. Days I miss when the pain levels creep up as they have been doing. Or the depression sinks me below below as it did recently. To completely leave me behind for a while would be nice. But this is gratitude and self-like time. Delayed by falling asleep again – which is a gratitude. Leaving me not quite awake & aware, however. Grateful I could hear the 9 reverbing back. Which made me think of Beatles 1, which made me think of Paperback Writer so:
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It’s based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job so I want to be a paperback writer
It’s a dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn’t understand
His son is working for the Daily Mail
It’s a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer
It’s a thousand pages, give or take a few
I’ll be writing more in a week or two
I can make it longer if you like the style
I can change it ’round and I want to be a paperback writer
If you really like it you can have the rights
It could make a million for you overnight
If you must return it you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer
LENNON, JOHN / MCCARTNEY, PAUL
Grateful I could do this – lap top, internet access, headphones, sleepy coffee, mouse (of the electronic variety – none of the other kind at this moment – I think). Lots about yesterday not to be grateful for, but hey, that’s got to be another post!
Self-like: let’s see, toughie. Struggling with self-control (rapid cycling in my bipolarsphere) which in a way is good. The only thing, in my early 20s, I could control was my weight – but as a bulimic who couldn’t make herself throw-up, I f’d my digestive system forever. No details – kinda gross. But, for years, I did get that under control – rare, short, not very big binges. Granted I binged in other ways, but I got back control on some of them, too. But I’m not a control freak. It’s strange, I know. And I’m learning to deal with all the things in my life I can’t control which is a large chunk. Learning how to react. Maybe learning will take away some of the constant angst and anxiety. Not exactly a self-like think piece. I guess it shows there is some optimism beneath the crusty, rusty layers of pessimism. Which can’t be all bad.