night/morning therapy #25 b which is a: I wish I was a rock: version one published second

IMG_20160709_125237040IMG_20160709_125258169IMG_20160709_125342897

sampling of landlady’s garden statuary

I’ve been surrounded by music a lot lately aided by borrowed noise cancelling headphones. Creating playlists; looking for lyrics; finding official or well-filmed live performances on You Tube. Although I have no musical talent – wait, I used to play the kazoo – music has always been an important aspect of my life. Show tunes on the hi fi before we had television; my first 45 “In the Year 2525;” getting Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits for my 14th birthday; teen years concerts; lyrics I read as poetry; finding my life being told within the words; nostalgia and bittersweet memories; the obsessive listening to a particular album or performer; crying over lyrics that cut too close to the bone. Anthems to hope and hopelessness.

Putting together a Simon and Garfunkel playlist brought back “I am a Rock,” a song I used to sing to myself a lot in my early 20s. By then I probably been bipolar 2 since my early teens if not even before then, with body image issues/eating disorder, deep depression and loneliness. I think you can understand why “I am a Rock” so resonated with me.

I’m in a strange mood tonight – in the twilight zone between bipolar cycles, feeling battered and bruised. Not that “I am a Rock” holds as true now, but it struck a cord – the perception versus the reality that comes with depression and bipolar. Some folks had trouble with the  Vevo version of America, so besides the 2004 live Vevo performance, are two other live versions from the 1960s. I do wish, at times I was a rock, an island, as “. . . a rock feels no pain; and an island never cries.”

1960’s: Art looks so nervous!!!

2004 concert in NYC

France 1966

A winter’s day
In a deep and dark December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.

Tomorrow is day 3 of steroids. Friday I took 6; today I took 5; tomorrow I take 4. Pain is very bad tonight, so the ‘roids ain’t cutting it yet. Last of the NSAIDs – know that won’t do much either. Going to be a long night.

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One thought on “night/morning therapy #25 b which is a: I wish I was a rock: version one published second

  1. Shadeau July 17, 2016 / 8:02 pm

    Can only comment on the rock deal tangentially–as today, being a rock sounds totally easy and wonderful in its own mute and sedentary way…

    Like

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