January

Nazgul Witch King

In the grey days of January; in the lugubrious hibernations of my slowly stirring mind, something is coming.  Tony, of the Sharks, in West Side Story, knows it!

—–     —–     —–

 

Could be!
Who knows?
There’s something due any day;
I will know right away,
Soon as it shows,

In the lyric meter of the song you notice his galloping trepidation.  The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse and Tolkien’s Nazgul, are on the loose.  “Something Big” might not be so wonderful. There’s an element of dread throughout the song.  As if, looking back, you could have foretold the outcome.  A prescient indication of emotional intelligent  songwriting by a brilliant lyricist.

—–     —–     —–

Something similar to Tony’s feeling is beginning to grow into me.

I’m sleeping no longer than three hours at a time.  Suddenly, I have an unnatural craving for potato chips.  Which could kill me, considering my blood pressure issues.  But its becoming hard to stop.  Somehow I still write, but I can’t slow down enough to read.  I’m noticing flashes of temper unusual for me for many years.  Impatience!  The pressure to write, write, write is becoming unbearable.  I’m told Van Gogh’s brushstrokes were indications of his agitation.  I used to break the nubs of my expensive fountain pens out of a similarly frustrating agitation.

Could be!  Who knows?

I’m hoping that by writing it out, I can purge myself of it.  But even in this instant of writing it, I know its too late.  Too late!

I always come back to this point.  But I refuse to be medicated!  I’m blessed with the good fortune of being able to chose!

I think I’m heading for a dark, hot summer.  Smells a lot like hell, I fear!

—–     —–     —–

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5 thoughts on “January

    1. You usually have cool ideas. But no guarantees, okay? “Show me what you’ve got”, he said, suggestively!

      I love that you’re reading me.

      Thanks,

      TD [js will do, for you!]

  1. My fear is what Van Gogh would have feared had he been able to step out of himself for a moment. We know his fate. But, I’m not sure he would have changed, for a bigger fear that it would snuff the very fire that drove him. I worry about the same. Am I aiming a fire extonguisher at myself? And what then?

    Balancing genius and insanity. I’d call it “Walk the Line” if Johnny Cash didn’t take it already. Damn you Johnny Cash! He walked the line between what exactly?

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