NP: Genesis, The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (CD)

Okay, I think I've gotten through the worst of this latest bout of whatever it is I've been fighting. Depression seems too obvious, although I've been thinking about that with regard to what I've always considered an overzealousness to find pharmaceutical solutions to these sorts of problems. Yeah, there was probably a lack of a certain neurotransmitter in my brain, but that's because the external factors of my life are producing less of them. The answer is not to artificially boost the chemicals in my brain, it's to fix the external factors causing them to be produced in insufficient quantities. I sure as hell don't want to fool my brain into thinking everything's all right, because then I lose the pointed stick I need to force me to fix my situation. Maybe some people need, or at least prefer, to get out of that particular sort of headspace first before they actually deal with the root problems, but I don't. Feeling like shit is enough of a motivator in it's own right for me.

Anyway, now that I've pissed off at least one of you, two things seemingly broke the logjam. First, I grumbled yesterday about how this has been, for entirely different reasons, probably one of the toughest stretches of my life since high school (which, admittedly, wasn't that tough, it only seemed that way). After getting overly worked up over absolutely nothing yesterday afternoon and practically storming outside with absolutely no destination in mind, it dawned on me that I've always pointed to the drums as the one thing that got me through my teenage years. So I went and bashed the holy hell out of the skins for about an hour. No rudiments, no sticking patterns, just let it all go and play. Felt good, even if I was almost run off the road by a semi on the scenic route I took home.

The other glaringly obvious thing is that I spend a good eight to ten hours every day at home by myself. Getting out to Vaughan's and actually talking to real, live people, in person, was another strong tonic for what has been ailing me. Had a bit of that Monday night as well, but I was still on the down side of the slide, so it perhaps wasn't quite as effective. It may have helped that I was fully playing the part of the run-down malcontent last night, and that my mood was not lost on some people. Lately, I've been trying to get out of the apartment at some point during the day, but significant human contacts during the daylight hours are still few and far between.

So all of this has allowed me to back up a step and realize things actually aren't bad at all. It's now looking like three months in a row where playing music will pay my rent. Not quite making a living, but getting there. And I'm forgetting the temporary high from Saturday night when Skutecki told me she saw someone wearing a URT shirt recently, coupled with the joy at the local sports media finally realizing Chicago has a winner in town in the Fire. Friday night's match should be huge, and with yours truly contributing a set of cover tunes on a stage in the concourse, I can actually say I've played at Soldier Field. Sort of.