Voodooesque

What a difference a day makes.
Twenty four little hours.
This time yesterday I was minus 7. Tonight I’m nearly plus 7. Tonight I think I have the world in my thrall and maybe I don’t need that appointment I made.
But I am older and wiser. And I have good friends who are even older and wiser than me. And they know how this song goes. And they can hear it bars and bars before I even notice that I’ve been humming along. Discretely complicit.
The lyric change, but the story rarely differs. It calls me to familiar ground. Safe territory that’s anything but. It says you can’t. you’re broken., unfit for purpose. Fraud. It cajoles you into giving life a wide berth. Smug and secure that the bulls horns remain ungrasped.
Well, boy, do I have a surprise for you, mr bipolar ballad. Hah!
We are no longer on the same page. You can loop yourself around my ears – the most alluring baubles. I may even join in for a verse or two, but I’m no longer in your regular bookable chorus. I quit the choir.

Musical analogies ensue. Feel free to add your own . . .

Compose yourself. Make the most of the music that it yours, til it soars. And something about blending high notes with low notes. Keep ascending, don’t compete, compose. (bit from Follies)

Things you never knew about me. I love show tunes. Love em. Your Rodgers and Hammerstein, your kander and ebb – the lot. (I booked tickets for Wicked as I walked past the theatre tonight – any show that rhymes loathing with clothing, is ok by me!).
People wonder why the offspring is so articulate? Try playing Sondheim from the womb and see how yours turn out!

Wish I had my laptop and could post this right now. Then read all the blogs I enjoy to feed my brain some more. Because tonight I’m on fire. Tonight I can hover above the planet and see how everything fits together. Millions and millions of connections.
But I am older and wiser. And I know that the exhilaration I feel right now is only part of the picture. What I want to do is go to the nearest bar, the nearest show, the nearest people and to talk and talk and drink and drink and greedily consume the universe and this shiny fabulous city. I would go and go and go and go.
But. I am older and wiser and inspired by women I admire. So when I checked into my room, I took all my clothes off. So I would have to pause – not just dump my bag and go out. So I could temper my ardour with the sight of my flab and stretch marks in desperately uncoordinated underwear. Self medicating with a full length mirror.

Because I’m no longer in the choir. I chose a different team. I chose my little baby. And my man. And what ever I can reconcile as myself.

posted by dodo @ 9:15 pm