The Last Man Standing

As I grow older, and the count of those I’ve lost grows higher, I’m reminded of a frightening thought I had as a child.

I’ve seen them come, and I’ve seen them go
Yet I, alone, remain
Through all the pain and tragedy
The song remains the same

It echoed down through all the years
And through all the lands of man
That siren song that warned about
The coming of our last stand

But no one heard, and no one cared
Until it was all too late
Then came the time when hope was lost
And we accepted our terrible fate

So I’ve watched them go, friend and foe
Our numbers dwindling fast
’til the numbing pain of watching man’s end
Left me alone at last

Now all their ashes have blown away
Yet, somehow, I remain
With only the pain of tragic loss
And the song that remains unchanged

If you can’t quite imagine how a child could have such a vision, then you need to read more of my stuff. But I will give you a little hint:

I want ice water.

Singing The Blues

As I’ve said before, I suffer from depression. Sometimes the bottom just drops out, usually for no rational reason that I can discern. When I’m laying on the bottom of one of these downturns, it’s very difficult for me to do anything, let alone writing. As much as I would like to write about it while it’s happening, I’ve never been able to do so. I’ve just been through one of these phases and I want to share with you, as best I can, what it’s like.

The following is a list of Pink Floyd song lyrics that not only describe the feelings I have when I’m in the middle of one of these funks, but are the actual songs that I sometimes listen to - and sing along with - while it’s happening. Amazingly enough, these songs somehow help me get through it.

The last song, by Emerson, Lake & Palmer, represents my underlying desire to persevere and reclaim my hold on life.

Please note that whether you are reading this on Blogger or on WordPress, I have made it possible for you to listen to these songs. On Blogger, they’ve all been included as individual songs in the Blog Playlist in the sidebar. On WordPress, you’ll find the same playlist on the Songs for this Blog page.

Pink Floyd - Another Brick In The Wall (Part III)

I don’t need no arms around me
I don’t need no drugs to calm me
I have seen the writing on the wall
Don’t think I need anything at all
Oh no! Don’t think I’ll need anything at all

All in all it was all just bricks in the wall
All in all you were just bricks in the wall


Pink Floyd - Goodbye Cruel World

Goodbye cruel world
I’m leaving you today
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye all you people
There’s nothing you can say
To make me change
My mind
Goodbye.


Pink Floyd - Hey You

Hey you!
Out there in the cold. Getting lonely, getting old,
Can you feel me?

Hey you!
Standing in the aisles with itchy feet and fading smiles,
Can you feel me?

Hey you!
Don’t help them to bury the light
Don’t give in without a fight.

Hey you!
Out there on your own sitting naked by the phone
Would you touch me?

Hey you!
With your ear against the wall, Waiting for someone to call out
Would you touch me?

Hey you!
Would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I’m coming home.

But it was only a fantasy
The wall was too high as you can see
No matter how he tried he could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain.

Hey you!
Out there on the road always doing what you’re told,
Can you help me?

Hey you!
Out there beyond the wall, breaking bottles in the hall,
Can you help me?

Hey you!
Don’t tell me there’s no hope at all
Together we stand, divided we fall.


Pink Floyd - Is There Anybody Out There

Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?

Pink Floyd - Nobody Home

I’ve got a little black book with my poems in
Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
When I’m a good dog they sometimes throw me the bone in

I got elastic bands keepin’ my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues
I got thirteen channels of shit on the TV to choose from

I’ve got electric light
And I’ve got second sight
I got amazing powers of observation

And that is how I know,
When I try to get through
On the telephone to you,
There’ll be nobody home

I’ve got the obligatory Hendrix perm
And the inevitable pinhole burns
All down the front of my favorite satin shirt

I’ve got nicotine stains on my fingers,
I’ve got a silver spoon on a chain
Got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains

I’ve got wild staring eyes
And I’ve got a strong urge to fly,
But I got nowhere to fly to

Ooh, babe when I pick up the phone
There’s still nobody home

I’ve got a pair of Gohills boots
And I got fading roots


Emerson, Lake & Palmer - Still... You Turn Me On

Do you want to be an angel,
Do you want to be a star,
Do you want to play some magic on my guitar?
Do you want to be a poet,
Do you want to be my string?
You could be anything.
Do you want to be the lover of another
Undercover? you could even be the man on the moon.

Do you want to be the player,
Do you want to be the string?
Let me just tell you something,
It just don’t mean a thing.
You see it really doesn’t matter
When you’re buried in disguise
By the dark glass on your eyes,
Though your flesh has crystallized;

Still .... you turn me on.

Do you want to be the pillow where i lay my head,
Do you want to be the feathers lying in my bed?
Do you want to be a colour cover magazine;
Create a scene.
Every day a little sadder,
A little madder,
Someone get me a ladder.

Do you want to be the singer,
Do you want to be the song?
Let me tell you something
You just couldn’t be more wrong.
You see i really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense.
from my experience
It just doesn’t seem to make sense,

Still .... you turn me on.

Hmmn .... you turn me on.

Hmmn .... you turn me on.

I want ice water.

Pride, Respect and Pain

After a very long time, I had the opportunity to talk to my oldest son the other day. I say ’talk to’ because I hardly let him get in a word edgewise. When I realized how much I was hogging the conversation I started to apologize by telling him how rare it has become for me to have someone to talk to, and that was when he told me how much he has in fact missed listening to me. Since we were also discussing his becoming my roommate, I was glad to hear him say that. But his statement planted a thought in my head that didn’t come to the fore until I watched Tavis Smiley’s interview with Mickey Rourke tonight.

Mr. Rourke’s description of the childhood demons that plagued him almost to the point of self-destruction caused me to reflect on my own. Both of us were affected by childhoods filled with violence and pain, and both of us chose to develop a ’hard’ persona to protect us from that pain while attempting to prove that we were a match for the evils that we perceived the world to have set against us. The difference between us lies only in the manner in which we chose to present our ’hardness’ to the world. His choice was the persona of the man who could not be touched through a shield of violence. My choice was the persona of the man who could not be touched through a shield of mental perfection.

I’ve always been so determined to prove that I was too ’smart’ to be affected on any deep level by the chaos and pain of our lives. I did this by attempting to appear to have an answer to everyone’s problem, and of course, an appropriate sermon to go along with my advise. This had both positive and negative consequences. On the positive side, maintaining this persona required me to learn quite a lot about the human condition, and also how to communicate my ideas effectively. On the negative side, this persona made conversing with me a real ’downer’ for some, and made me appear as an arrogant ass to others.

The problem was that perfecting this persona had become the very basis for any sense of pride that I had. I simply never believed that I could ever truly be respected without it. But the harder I worked at it the more difficult the task became, and I seemed to be moving farther and farther away from the respect I wanted. In a very real sense, my ego had become like the planet held up by the shoulders of Atlas, which only grew heavier the harder I strained to hold it up. Eventually it became more than I could bear and I had a mental breakdown as a result. The irony of it all is that as I slid down into addiction and despair, I became in reality both unreachable and untouchable to those around me.

I have to admit that I found comfort for a while in being thought of as ’crazy’ by other people. After all, who would expect a crazy person to have all the answers? But at the same time it really irked me to be judged ’chemically imbalanced’ by doctors and ’unemployable’ by the government. Especially when my mental state seemed to me the logical result of being a sane person living in an insane world. But over time I have come to realize that ’sane’ is a relative term, and that no one is completely sane when compared to some perfectionist ideal. I’ve also come to see that the disappointment that I saw in peoples eyes when I was really screwing up wasn’t because I had been revealed as imperfect after all - everyone already knew I was human, but because it looked like I had given up on striving for perfection - what actually made me special to them in the first place.

It’s now been over two weeks since I started writing this article. Something about the subject matter, in combination with other events in my life, made it too difficult to continue until tonight. What got me going again was seeing Mickey Rourke on Charley Rose last night and helping my oldest son move in with me earlier today. As far as the Rourke interview last night is concerned, I was again struck by the amazing combination of strength and vulnerability that exudes from the man. How can I not feel compassion for a man whose ’shield’ has failed him at least as badly as my own has failed me? But at the same time, how can I not have hope for myself when I see how possible it is for one to survive the failure and come out better for it?

I don’t know if the people who have been disappointed by my failures feel so because I had given them hope and then dashed it, or because I was no longer amusing them by acting like some Don Quixote character battling against impossible odds. And I guess it’s that not knowing that fuels my fear of being a further disappointment or an even bigger fool. But I know that the bottom line that I must stick with is the fact that I do what I do for myself and that it’s my own respect that I must earn. Pain is, after all, an unavoidable consequence of being alive, and genuine pride can only come from self-respect.

I want ice water.