Nick Drake - Fruit Tree: How strangely yet awesomely comforting

The Warp

There is a little section in a main road in Blairgowrie that I believe passes through an 80’s time warp.  I have seen an old lady on numerous mornings, walking to the bus stop.  Her entire demeanor and physical appearance strikes me as odd.  She wears 80’s style clothing and very red lips, very blue eye shadow and very pink cheek blusher.  She has teased hair, much like the 80’s styles women use to sport.  I use to think, eh, perhaps she is just a little old fashioned.  Then, the other morning, I was driving through the warp, only to see a man walking past the exact same spot.  He was dressed in cut-off jean shorts, Fila ankle sneakers, a tank top and jean waistcoat.  And he had a mullet hairstyle.  Could this be a coincidence?  Yeah, probably, but I choose to believe that I get to experience a little bit of Back to the Future while I drive my De Lorian through the 80’s each morning.  

Something strange

I pulled out a trolley and walked into the supermarket.  Being an introvert and agoraphobic, not my favorite pastime, but I got to leave work early, so I decided to cut my husband a break today.  I walk into the foyer and turn left, passing the confection counter, when an announcement crackles over the PA system.  “Valued customers,  Please note that the store will be closing within 10 minutes due to a special staff event taking place today.  Please finalize your purchases and make your way to the checkout point.  Thank you.”  Ugh, go figure.  The shopping list I’ve been reciting over and over in my mind suddenly goes into overdrive, as if repeating it faster will make my body react quicker too.  So I start grabbing things left and right… mind you, not even things on the list, but you know, just in case.  I shuffle over to the baked goods and at the smell of the freshly baked bread, I realize that I’ve skipped lunch and am suddenly ravenous.  So I grab a ½ dozen rolls and start chomping on one.  For some reason, the rushing is making me very disoriented and I can’t seem to find anything I’m looking for, so I end up trolling the aisles, and subsequently the store, 3 or 4 times over before spotting the item I was looking for.  I’ve never been good with “time trials”.  I make my way over to the checkout and  I assume it’s because I’ve gone into “panic” mode, that I grab just about every kind of chocolate bar I see, as the line moves slowly forward.

Finally outside, making my way to my car, I notice something strange.  Is that woman vomiting?  Why is that guy bent over… Before I have time to realize what is happening, store employees rush us back into the store.  It seems that some or other virus has been spread to everyone that has been in the store, likely from something consumed in the store but no details are confirmed.  We have to all be contained (quarantined) until further notice.

There is a parking lot or delivery lot at the back of the store, with a field and I see some young men have made their way to a bright light in the field.  It looks almost as though the bright flashing light is electrocuting them and like their flesh starts burning.  Some older men try to rush to their aid but something that looks like a giant frog leg, maybe 18 feet high, come down on them, like a human getting ready to squash a bug.  The men grab at the leg, pulling it loose from it’s owner… although I can’t make out who or what the owner is as it is so big, the clouds obscure whatever it is.  If I didn’t know better, I would think it was an alien.  The young men caught in the burning light, catches my eye.  It seems they have freed themselves from the current and are making their way back to the store.  Their flesh is burned, but the closer they get to the store, the more the scars seem to be healing up, right before our eyes.  And they are laughing and so nonchalant as if this kind of thing happens to them every day. 

Better Understanding

Breathe

Some understanding

In a recent post on a social media site, I severely upset my spouse.  The quote reads: “A true suicide is a paced, disciplined certainty. People pontificate, "Suicide is selfishness." Career churchmen like Pater go a step further and call in a cowardly assault on the living. Oafs argue this specious line for varying reason: to evade fingers of blame, to impress one's audience with one's mental fiber, to vent anger, or just because one lacks the necessary suffering to sympathize. Cowardice is nothing to do with it - suicide takes considerable courage. Japanese have the right idea. No, what's selfish is to demand another to endure an intolerable existence, just to spare families, friends, and enemies a bit of soul-searching. The only selfishness lies in ruining strangers' days by forcing 'em to witness a grotesqueness.” ― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

His argument was along the lines of, what if this inspired someone’s mother or father to commit suicide, because I made it sound cool and posted it on a site for everyone to read?  Then the child growing up without a mother or father would be on my head.  Even though I understood his point, I didn’t respond to this, as anyone who suffers from this illness doesn't think it’s cool or does it on purpose to "get attention". 

I found this quote incredibly accurate.  To each person his own and how can society see suicide as selfish?  The very statement is a complete selfish concept in itself.  You expect a suicidal person to keep living in constant, gut-wrenching pain so that you can be without it?  In other words, it’s either you or them?  Do people think that the pain and anguish dissipates when you stop verbalising or “threatening” your need for escape from it?  A line from a Jimi Hendrix song reads: “I’m the one that’s got to die when it’s time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.”  One of his songs, notably entitled Manic Depression, also describes the feelings one feels when dealing with this state.  Kurt Cobain, a co-member of Hendrix’s in the 27 club, also suffered from manic depression.   

My brother also told me about a quote read at the funeral of Layne Staley (Alice in Chains’ fallen vocalist) by Mark Twain’s Letters From The Earth: “life was not a valuable gift, but death was. Life was a fever dream made up of joys embittered by sorrows, pleasure, poisoned by pain… but death was sweet, death was gentle, death was kind; death healed the bruised spirit and the broken heart and gave them rest and forgetfulness; death was man’s best friend.  When man could endure life no longer, death came and set him free.”  And no, we (or I personally) don’t constantly think of ways to commit the act of suicide.  But in general, you just want to constantly escape the pain, silence your mind, find some peace, if only for a few seconds.  Is that so horrible, considering the many violent and horrible things humans do to each other?  Is it too much for loved ones to understand.  We understand your argument, day in and day out and no, we will not consider it permission if you listen and try to understand without judgement.  It will not be your fault or on your head and you do not have to try to talk us out of it or make us feel better.  We just don’t want you to attack us or make us feel guilty for having the feelings which comes as naturally to us as love, hate or fear comes to you.  We do not love you any less, but understanding would make us love you even more.

Down on the state of the world

While driving to work yesterday, in a positive mood (which is generally pretty unusual for me), I had my window open and was smiling at the street kid at the traffic light.  I have developed quite a soft spot for him. He is always smiling and waving, to spite his lot in life.  He is there at six every morning, come rain or shine.  And I've seen him sitting with some old markers, "sprucing up" his little beggars board (ie. tale of woe) that most beggars in our country are seen with.  He decorates it with his personal brand of art, which made me think that I would probably do the same, if I was ever in his position :)  On this particular morning, he had some sort of wig or weave on, that I hadn't seen before.  It was an Albert Einstein-type of style.... but black with purple tips (my favourite colour) at the end of each wild tendril - it made me smile.  As he was approaching down the line of motorists, I was getting ready to greet him and tell him that I don't have anything for him today, when I heard a ruckus close-by.  I looked around and some wild movements caught my eye.  At the petrol station across the road, the one I frequent most often on my way home, there were several men assaulting a motorist in his vehicle at one of the petrol pumps.  From what I could gather, a group of between 6 – 10 men got out of a minibus taxi and were trying to pull a single motorist out of the driver’s side of his car.  They were literally rocking the car from side to side, via the arm of the driver, who was gripping desperately at his steering wheel, trying to free himself of the mob of assailants.  I was in immediate shock at the event unfolding in front of my eyes.  So much so that I found myself waiving at the young beggar passing by my window, mimicking his movements, smile and all, to spite my shock.   I blinked and flushed at my reaction and when I looked back, the man had somehow managed to free himself and with a leap managed to get his car away from them, slamming his door shut (and I imagine locking it) all in one motion.  He had gotten away, to my relief.  The traffic light I was waiting at changed and I had to go, wanted to go.  Although going home would have been more welcome after my shock.  I imagine the man had said something to the minibus driver, which he and his passengers (or perhaps they were fellow drivers parked at the station at that time) had taken great offence to.  Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone the man doing or saying whatever had set off the mob, but was it really necessary to go to such extremes?  To assault someone for a fleeting thought that had escaped his mouth before he had time to think about it?  And I can’t help but wonder, what would they have done, had they managed to free him from his vehicle?  And while I understand the petrol attendant standing idly by while this was happening (shock or fear or both) it scared me even more to think that should I ever be in such a situation, no one would come to my aid.  We really are all we have most of the time.  There are no hero’s like you see in Hollywood movies.  No brave men or women coming to rescue you in the nick of time.  Strange how naïve my views are (…where?), considering I have lived all 31 years of my life in one of the most violent and crime-ridden countries in the World, I’ve heard the stats, yet I had never been the direct victim of a crime and still hope that by some miracle, never will be.  Friends of mine, family, have experienced some of the most violent acts, not once, but some of them 2, 3, 4 times.  Yet here am I, shocked, nauseous, sickened, by an act only seen in the distance.  What I should probably also mention is this is not a neighbourhood one would consider shady.  I sometimes wonder if one is not more alert or to some extent expect  these types of events to take place in less well-to-do locations… yet I guess it’s true what they say about suburbs lulling us into a false sense of security.  Also, the neighbourhood police station is perhaps 1.5kms down the road.  Which makes that false sense of security even stronger and clearly more false. 

All the way to work and throughout the day, the images haunted me.  I am not someone who keeps up to date with current events.  I do no watch the news.  I’m a dreamer, a believer and have an unusually vivid imagination.  I live myself into each situation to the point where it feels like it happened to me.  So I’ve found it a way of self-preservation.  As with being an introvert, shy and manic depressive, it is widely misunderstood and most individuals do not understand the way my mind works.  People often think I’m just being a naïve baby and that I need to know these things whatever they are and however bad they may be.  Why, I cannot tell you.  Others will offer a reason, but in my opinion none of these can be considered valid reasons, for a reason needs to be some sort of means to an end to be considered valid.

Immediately after the incident, the only thing I could think of was immigrating.  But where does one “escape” to?  America, where the government shuts down and your children are sent to bogus wars?  London, where my SAD will kick in, likely to the point of suicide?  This made me so despondent to the entire state of the world.  It made me think, as I often do, why?  Why do we need to be here?