Now and Zen

I'm enjoying a day of quietness and tranquillity. It's no different from any other day, but my brain feels pleasantly muffled.

It's like being in the womb. Albeit a womb where I have to shave and go to work. Which would be really annoying. I'm glad all humans get a settling-in period. I wouldn't want to be launched straight into a world of spreadsheets and broken shoelaces and Jeremy Paxman.

I think I'd be interested in pursuing transcendental meditation if I didn't have such a short attention span. I wonder if it's possible to achieve a state of detached enlightenment whilst listening to Adam and Joe podcasts. Probably not.

Hang gliding might be a suitable alternative. It would be very peaceful. Except for the whole fear of imminent death thing. But death is always imminent in some, untrue way.

[I originally spelled the above as 'hand gliding'. That's different. But also fun. Especially if you paint your hand in bright colours and tie a mouse to it. And make him a little helmet.]

***

I misheard the lyrics to a Morrissey song the other day. The song is called I'll Never Be Anybody's Hero. It's really good. In fact, here it is:



The chorus goes 'I'll never be anybody's hero now'.

I misheard it as 'I'll never be anybody's here or now'. Which I think is much better.

It speaks of a deep transience and of temporal and spatial alienation. Maybe I should email him and suggest a change.

I'm a superb lyricist. When I was about seventeen, I wrote a really bitter and entirely uninformed love song called Yesterday's Muse. Get it? Like news! I was a genius.

The song wasn't based on any actual experience of mine, but was what I felt a bitter love song should be about. Here are the lyrics:

Yesterday's Muse

You're not my inspiration anymore
So get the fuck out of my song
You've been buzzing like a fly
Hanging round my shit for far too long

If I see you cross the road
It's unlikely that I'll hit the brake
I'm sure I'd love the sound
Your shattered vertebrae would make

[Not too sure on the chorus, but think it was something like:]

And I still can't figure out why
I said OK when you said goodbye
I guess I thought the pain would end
When the cancer died

I was a well-adjusted teenager.

I can't imagine writing that sincerely. I enjoy the use of the word 'vertebrae'. It's also quite magnificently misogynistic and cruel, especially as I hadn't had any traumatic relationships.

To be fair, I don't think I was ever that much of an idiot. I reckon I was just trying to imitate convention, rather than be original. I hope, anyway.

When I get home, I might record a quick acoustic version and post it here. I'll try to remember the chords. In fact, I might release it as a single.

Bitterness sells (mainly in lemons).