melancholy sunday

I would like to begin with a small introduction. This entry is what we writers (if I may call myself that) call a 'string of consciousness'. I warn not to bring your mind, you are sure to lose it. I don't apologize for anything because, well, it's me. and frankly my dears...



If you have never seen the movie TiMER you should. It is a perfect balance of complexity and simplicity. I don’t usually condone movies that use the loveable ‘F’ word as a constant exclamation but for the reason of story you tend to overlook this.
I was sitting alone in my room on a lovely Sunday afternoon. I should have been outside. I should have been happy. Instead I watched this movie. I hit the red ‘x’ in the corner of the screen, Netflix my constant friend, disappeared into darkness. It was quiet in my room, in the house. I turned on some music. Next thing I know Christmas fills my room as Tony sings of bluebirds and snowmen. I reached to turn it, but my hand was stayed. I was in a sentimental mood. And a melancholy one at that. So back to the movie. It didn’t have the fulfilling Hollywood ending I was hoping for, yet, it was just what I needed. It wasn’t cliché, not in the sense that is normal to romantic films. I was left feeling empty. I thought about that feeling. I decided to channel it into a creative blank page. I drew. I tried to write a song. I didn’t feel like much of a musician after hanging out with my accomplished musically inclined friends last night. Why did I spend two hundred bucks on a guitar? Because it looked damn good on me.

I live in a funny world, thought I. Two Indian guys are sitting in my living room right now, drinking Coke. I’m up here in a stuffy room, tossed with clothes and dust for dressing. Dead flowers sit on my dresser, I’m an optimist. I watch romantic movies hoping that I can outlive my depressed heart. Yep, vital signs normal. Nothing suits me today. My outfit was boring, my curls hung the same way they always do. My statue of lovers embracing looked as wooden as ever. I laughed. Life is like a bunch of coconuts. I don’t like coconut. Maybe that’s what’s been going wrong. It’s not that I don’t enjoy my life. But today was just so especially melancholy. It deserved having that word said at least three times on one page. Relationships are overrated? Well, if Jack Johnson says so…I went beyond where I should’ve gone. I jumped and fell flat on my face. It felt good for a split second because I knew I could still feel. I had a heart, though buried, tangled in its ventricles, but there. Now I wait for a letter that will never come. I wait for my ‘somewhere beyond the sea’ moment. I sigh, a familiar sound to my ears, a familiar feeling in my gut. Going out tonight? Of course. Alone? Of course, is there any other way? I’m waiting, sitting on the edge of an empty life guard tower. I’m waiting to write the song. I’m trying to love you.