Long & boring mid-life-crisis-blah ahead. Better skip it, there’s not even (slightly) interesting music in the links.
Not the best of ideas to crawl through youtube with a line of text in one’s head, like “Why don’t you take a good look at yourself and describe what you see, and Baby do you like it?”
I heard variations of it in my head, but it always was Mr Plant calling at me, and finally I identified it as a line from Led Zeppelin’s Misty Mountain Hop. “There you sit, sitting spare like a book on a shelf rustin’ / Ah, not trying to fight it.”
I looked into a mirror, and tried to describe what I see. It is not flattering. Maybe all this greyish non-colour is just a trick of the lightning ? The thinning hair – there is no real translation for the German word schütter that sadly describes it all too good ; the wrinkles under the nose and around the mouth, hewed in with a dull axe – thankfully glasses hide the bags under the eyes.
No, I do not like it.
“Misty Mountains” – ah ja, Flucht, escape. As if there would be a possibility to hide.
Why not go ? EH ?!
For the first time, since a very long gone & unhappy day, I feel alone. Not lonely – there are people, who are near me and to whom I am allowed to be near, people in whose life I am a part, perhaps even an important one – but a daily phone call is not the same like jump into the elevator, walk into the kitchen, cook a meal, spend an evening, living together.
Over time, over the year, über’s Jahr, I will move too. I do not want to stay alone here. Feeling left behind.
So I check websites for jobs in the area, for rooms to rent, try to imagine an other existence in a different place. Why not live in a village, work in the administration there ? What do I want ? What do I need ? What can I afford ?
All I know is that Led Zeppelin’s music does not help me here. I watched interviews with Jimmie Page, and all I could think is : Gosh, darling, you are old and frail – quit it, please. I then trundled to tapes with Waddy Wachtel, and Keith’s X-Pensive Winos – all old white dudes, who hide their bellies behind long black t-shirts, and play music from yesteryear. In Wachtel’s case at least with some furor that has to be admired.
So what has the tragedy of these men to do with me ?
The Stones, The Who, Gentle Giant, of course Steely Dan, achherrjemineh, all this was the soundtrack of my youth, and I wanted it to stay the soundtrack of my adult years. I stuck with this music, never developed a feeling towards Hip’n Hop, found Grunge laughable, like all what was pushed ever since, after Punk and NDW.
There is so much to discover in music – but I always returned to those noisy idiots from the late sixties to the early seventies, basically white dudes with guitars.
I always was too passive, I always allowed things to happen – what is basically not a bad feature – but I never found the “umpf” to make things happen. And that is not good, especially in the long run. Now I am in “the middle of my life”, what is nonsense – I am in my earl fifties, what means that I have, in the best case, another thirty years to live. I can not repeat what I have done, I can not go on repeating how I met situations in my life : I can not go on and react the usual way !
I have to change something. I can not keep on listening to old Stones records and assume it is going on this way, as it clearly never was – I must change.
A friend’s re-construction of life took a little bit more than two years. It was successful, hard and demanding, but successful. What teaches me (a) that such an enterprise is possible, with the correct amount of preparation, and a little luck of course. And (b) that the whole effort is worth it.
I do not want to end like Keith and other heroes of my youth, who seemingly endlessly repeat what they have started forty or more years ago. I can not stay in this dead-end job for the next – what ?! – twenty years ? I can not stay in this appartement that slowly kills me, until I finally succumb to the dust : At one point, not so far away, it will be down to “Breath” or “Books” – and I am not sure who’ll win.
But I know that I can lose.
And, as the last move showed me, I have not the power anymore, my body becomes weak.
Summa summarum : I have to collect my brains together, check out the area I wish to live in, search for a job there, and get rolling. And I have to get rid of old routines : I’m not Keith …