Depressies

I can’t get out of bed. I can’t stop watching late night TV reruns.

Bill Maher, Jon Stewart and the like. I’ve been here before. I’ll likely be here again. I can’t stop. I can karaoke to certain Daily Show bits, that’s how often I’ve watched them. I wonder why I find any comfort in rewatching these bits. It isn’t corona-related, because these reruns are how I’ve dealt with heartbreak, anxiety about my professional future, and any and all sub-optimal life experiences. I wonder why.

It’s lonely out here at the top of this building, and while videochats stab the depression in the chest, no number of videochats have proven sufficient to kill it. Maybe somatisation has gotten the better of me; maybe I’ve been convinced I’ve got an allergy, when in reality all I’ve got is a bout of the depressies. Many of us are suffering from some version of it, likely. 

I’m thinking of reaching out. I’m thinking of continuing to send these dispatches out, but doing so in a way that’s more thought-out. I’m thinking of maybe making a newsletter // a journal. I’m thinking it should contain: 

1. Updates on music I’m making.

2. Musings, the ones I think are at the very least decently thought-out.

3. Playlists, music stuff (other people’s: lately, I’ve wanted to just talk about post-punk music, I’ve also been making a playlist of old Bollywood songs).

4. Stories (yeah, whatever happened to good ol’ stories).

5. Pictures and videos.