Finality, it’s a word with a singular meaning yet somehow I manage to give it nuance. I’m not sure at what point in my life or my existence it was decided that the extraordinary would become the norm but somehow or another I consistently find myself in situations that defy the laws of reality and seem to be more like something out of a movie with clever writing and an all too appreciable protagonist. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not complaining or even lamenting this, hell I like it, it’s always something I can manage, it makes for great stories, and in the end if it makes it here (I’m terribly sorry for all but abandoning you guys) hopefully it makes for a good read.
I’ve been playing Madness Returns all week as well as re-reading the books in an effort to make them my own and keep from having a sour taste in my mouth following the excision of a monumentally, almost integral, part of my life. Y’know that whole thing about how certain music you just can’t listen to following a break up? Well for me it goes to an almost, and I’ll admit it’s unhealthy, virulent extreme. TV shows, books, movies, restaurants, clothing, even jokes and quotes get relegated there. Because of my astuteness for details and my near flawless ability for total recall…well it becomes very hard for me to break associations to things once they’ve been made.
Please don’t misunderstand this entry to suggest that I’m struggling under the labors of just being able to listen to Tool or enjoy House. In truth, Tool is, and always will be, mine. I got into Maynard’s catalog around 2003 with A Perfect Circle and songs like Judith, Weak and Powerless, The Noose, Blue, The Outsider, and Passive. I can remember going to see Constantine with friends and knowing every word to Passive as it played in the film. I fell headlong into Tool following a long and somewhat less well documented pursuit from 2006. The Tool song "Right in Two" provided the initial impetus for my long suffering novel. At that point in time it was less a love story and more a supernatural action adventure with little grounding in anything real. But I really began to experience the band, the music, their message, their catalog, and the emotion evoking power following a chance listening of Pushit while stuck playing the same damn video game ad infinitum for a paltry sum of money. The song had a message, unclear and a bit muddied to me upon the first dozen or so listens, but as I resolved to just provide white noise outside of the game’s insipid soundtrack, my attention continually focused on the lyrics and I began to relate and apply the song’s story of disparity within a relationship and the lengths to which the singer is willing to ignore it in the hopes of making the relationship work. The gap between them and how the constant pushing and shoving from the other forces the singer to see it, the continual challenge of keeping them from disappearing despite having to face that chasm, the incessant feeling of being alive when they touch and when the singer is shoved again and again, the codependency of it all but having to acknowledge that the gap is there, and the constant entreaty from the singer to keep from being pushed over the edge, knowing it will be the end of them. I began to relate to that, to see how much I was pushed, again and again, over and over, seemingly without end but I managed to side step falling into the gap. I never hit the breaking point as the singer of the song does, I was strong enough to keep from throwing it all away. The days wore on and I began to relate to more songs, Schism, Parabol/Parabola, H., Stinkfist, I could list the majority of their work but you guys already know I’m kind of a fanatic. But the point is that I chose Tool as a means to relate, to cope, to achieve catharsis I just couldn’t get otherwise. It’s kind of occurred to be recently and I know you will all disagree so I’m curious to hear your arguments, but I really suck as communicating my own feelings. I can argue points, convey thoughts, pontificate and even explain things quite well but when it comes to really putting emotion and not just words to paper…well it’s kind of a rare thing.
As great as most would profess me to be at expressing myself, I have to admit, if for no other reason than just for my own benefit, when it really matters, I’m terrible at it. I could say the most beautiful things, I could paint the greatest and most enjoyable and lovely pictures with my words, but I couldn’t ever work up enough courage to really say what was on my mind. I would stare her in the face and decry her for being so closed, so stoic and inscrutable, and yet in trying to get her to open up, I began to shut down. I would close up and lose my ability to really say what I felt or what I meant, saving it until I could do so here, in a venue where it didn’t matter, where she would never see, and where it would end up having no bearing on the only thing it should have affected: us. In that regard I failed. I’m more than willing to admit that and I know that the majority of you will come the aid of my ego and my practice of expression. I can already see the comments, “You’re a master at self-expression, she just didn’t understand you. Stop beating yourself up and know that she wasn’t worth your time.” Well do me a favor guys, stow the comment, because you’re wrong. I can be eloquent, pithy, succinct (it’s rare but it does happen) and flawlessly expressive here because while I do most often write these in a single sitting and most often as a single stream of consciousness, I do still have the ability to pause for a moment and rephrase something without it ever actually seeing daylight prior. In a conversation, her standing right in front of me, I’m scrabbling with utter recklessness to collect and convey my thoughts as quickly as I can because I knew that every visit was timed, governed by an ethereal clock of sorts that could only be pushed so far. For anyone who’s ever had a long distance relationship or something of the sort, you know that things gets lost in translation when you’re trying earnestly to get everything out before the bell tolls. Such is the case for this, as beautiful as it was, I did, on more than one occasion, fall terribly and achingly short of getting everything out in the time allotted and more often than not for all the eloquence she thought it possessed, it really came down to terribly ham handed commentary being given on a rudimentary and slapped together analysis of things. I did my best, don’t get me wrong, but it was nowhere near what I would have liked it to be.
I know I’ve come a long way from finality and the nuances of it to the point I’ve made above, but you should all be accustomed to it. I’m trying to sort things out, to make the picture clear in my own head and hopefully save myself some arguments and needless battling. So I’ll put thought to text and see if I can make the picture a bit less muddied for my own benefit. Hope you guys are enjoying that I’m back, even in the state that I’ve returned to you in. Hopefully someone comments and lets me know there’s life out there.
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