Down River

She's a liar. I know that sounds a bit melodramatic, but she is. I think it's something chemical. She doesn't even know she's doing it most of the time.

The train of her conversation is leading her neatly into the right station, and all of a sudden: BAM! - she flicks the switch, and sends the whole thing careering off in some new direction, leaving the people standing bemused on the platform. And they'll have to put down their heavy bags.

But I'm used to it by now. I don't even pick my bags up. Even if I see the train approaching on the horizon. Even when the announcement comes over the loudspeaker. You learn from experience.

When someone is consistently unreliable, it becomes your fault if you fail to anticipate it.

If someone's always late, and you agree to meet them at 8... well, it's your fault if you arrive on time. You're early. Time means different things to different people. And so does the truth.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me a hundred times, I'm going to start carrying a gun.

She's a liar, but consistently so. So there's no deception there; just a mirror-image of the truth. She says she's going left, and she is. From her perspective.

But it's my right.

And she's well within hers.

My only fear is that one day, something will happen - a flipped switch in the brain - and suddenly left will mean left, and right will mean right, and wrong will mean wrong. I won't know which way to look.

You get accustomed to these things. It's difficult to reprogramme your brain. Especially at my age.

Nothing's happened yet. I'm not expecting anything, as she promised something. Nothing is to be expected. Unless things have changed.

The train's coming. They've changed the details on the electronic display. But until she passes the switch, I have no idea whether or not she'll arrive at the platform.

So I'm leaving my bags right where they are, thank you very much. But my fingers hang above the handles like a cowboy in a gunfight. It's best to be prepared, I reckon.

***

I don't like Sundays. But I don't dislike them as much as I used to. I don't have to go to school anymore, which is a big plus. I don't have to go to bed early, and lie awake for hours dreading the morning.

Also, I have Wednesdays off, so it's not the huge rock face of a week that it used to be. I try to lull myself into a Zen-like state of readiness, listening to good music.

Occasionally, I'll write a pretentious blog post to accompany the music. This is a good tactic, because it makes your writing seem good to you. Though people who aren't listening to it just think it's odd and doesn't make much sense.

But I suppose that's the chance you've got to take.

The best tactic is just to keep writing, and not really think about what you're writing. That's what I usually do with this blog, and it usually means I'll end up rambling for too long. But at least the words are coming out.

I just stopped writing, which means this blog post is probably coming to an end. I broke off to look for links to the odd music I've been listening to.

I think I've probably posted most of them before, so I'll just do this one. I like that it's just a video of the record being played. I haven't watched it all the way through yet, so I hope the maker of the video doesn't suddenly jump out in the nude and start dancing.

Well, I sort-of do.

Davd Ackles - Down River





--- EDIT

Hang on a minute. I just found this one. I was listening to a version of this when writing the above, and I don't think I've posted it before. This performance is amazing:

Nina Simone - I Loves You Porgy