Thursday

I've been downbeat today, so I'm going to try to write myself happier.

I don't know if that's possible. I hope it is. Maybe I'll find some magical combination of words that can inject a bit of joy into my brain. It wouldn't necessarily be the meaning that did it. Otherwise I could just write "puppies" or "Jeremy Kyle punched forever" and it would do the trick.

I think it might just be the sound of the words that does it. Like a note of a certain pitch that can thaw ice. I'm only writing words, so I'll have to hear the sound in my own head. And the acoustics in here are rubbish. I can barely hear myself think, and even when I do, it's all reverb-y.

So maybe it won't be the meaning of the words, and it won't be the sound of the words. Maybe my mood will be improved by the look of the words. The way they appear on the screen. Maybe the right combination of peaks and troughs and dots and crosses will be aesthetically pleasing. Like a painting. Maybe I'll stumble upon a golden ratio of text configuration. Probably not with this font, but still...

If I put the letters in the right order, it might conjure something up. The same way the word 'bed' looks like a bed.

I haven't found it yet. I haven't found the meaning, sound or look that will cheer me up. And I don't want to start messing around with colours or italics. Anyone who gets cheered up by something slanty and pink has serious psychological problems.

But I am starting to feel better. I think it's because of those paragraphs you've just read (unless you've started the blog post here for some reason - your eyes were drawn to the pink perhaps). I am happier because I've written some words and sentences and so on. So maybe the cheering power of writing is not about content or form, but about quantity.

Girth breeds mirth. We all know that. That was my school motto. It's a truism. And it's stuck with me. Whereas dozens of falsisms have fallen by the wayside (which is nearly full, by the way).

That principle probably sums up this blog. My self-esteem is directly proportional to the word count. It doesn't matter how poorly thought-out the entries are; if the text be there, the mood be fair.

We all know that. It's a truism. Or a half-truism at least.

I'm listening to some depressing music, which probably isn't helping matters. Though it is imbuing my prose with a depth and profundity that probably isn't there for you.

Why don't you re-read this entry whilst listing to it?

 

It's from that film Synecdoche, New York, which is a bit downbeat too.

I quite like bleak films every now and then. I get a bit bored with uplifting Hollywood. Sometimes I don't want to be uplifted. Sometimes I'm high enough already. Not now, but sometimes. If you're on top of the Empire State Building, you don't want to be lifted up. You want someone to tie a piano to your wife and throw her off the top of it (the building, not the piano). Sometimes you want that.

Yes you do.

Listening to film scores always makes your life seem more exciting. Even if you're on the bus. Jon Brion didn't know that his song would have a special resonance for me, having dropped my ticket onto my own shoe. But it fits perfectly. Even boredom can be beautiful if couched in the right melody.

You can't spell downbeat without 'beat'. The fundamental building block of music.

Or 'own'. You can't spell downbeat without 'own'. You really can't.

I feel a lot better now, though. So perhaps my soundtrack should change. Sad music does make writing seem better, but happy music can probably do something too.

Maybe it will make me funnier. I know that's difficult to imagine.

So, what's the most upbeat song I can think of?

How about this?

Bertha was basically the televisual forerunner to Synecdoche, New York. I've always said that. Both comment on art vs commerce; individuality vs conformity; the nature of life, death and forklift trucks.

And whilst the first song might give my writing an air of poignancy, the Bertha theme is sure to bring my words to life in a different way. Even that last sentence is better with Bertha in the background.

I feel much better now. Thanks for listening. Or reading. Or just looking.

Laughter is one of the best medicines. I've always said that.