In Continuum.

Browning Leaves In Autumn

"Music was invented to confirm human loneliness."

--- Lawrence Durrell

Music can bring about a complete reversal to human emotions. At least on a personal level, that theory applies when I am sitting in the corner of a restaurant or cafe, staring at the bunch of strangers all around me. A friend of mine and I were just talking about this effect of music on a scene, when we inevitably started talking about my people-watching fascination. I told her about my thoughts on music and its effects, how a conventional image might become unconventional with the change of music in one's ears.

Try doing this next time if you can: While on a crowded bus, with the stench of the passengers piercing your nostrils, play the last piece of music you would expect to hear in your ears, over the sound of the Mobile TV and the sound of the bus engine. Try classical music, play Chopin's music. While doing so, take a look around the scene on the bus, and you will feel radically different all of a sudden. I tried that on the bus last night on the way to the cafe. I played The Rach 3 while watching the people returning homes from their dinners and jobs, nudging against one another to the swaying of the bus as it sped down the road. Interestingly, I was a little amused by the irony of it all, the sudden contrast of the peace in my ears and the chaos on the bus. Not to say that the second half of The Rach 3 is in any way 'peaceful', but it very accurately reflected the calm that the people on the bus tried to maintain, then following the rise to the crescendo, the faces of irritation explodes.

"Music expresses that which cannot be said on which it is impossible to be silent."

--- Victor Hugo

Like I said before about Sigur Ros' music, they really take you to places. Pick any song from their ( ) album and prepare to be dumped into a hip of depression. Because that is what happens all the time for me, and it feels good. People say that I enjoy being depressed, or sentimental, or sad. But that's just putting it crudely I say. Because as the saying goes: What recreation is is to be in love! It sets the heart aching so delicately, there's no taking a wink of sleep for the pleasure of the pain. How sadistic that might have sounded, but it is true. I do that all the time, not on myself but most of the time on others.

Watch a happy group of people and listen to a sad piece of music, they become a group of lonely people putting up a front, trying desperately to cheer up in the company of others. Watch a lonely girl sitting at a table with a cup of coffee and listen to a happy piece of music, it does not reflect the emotion of the object of observation, but the people all around, which creates a stark contrast between the two. I'm not sure what I am talking about here, but it is really an emotion I feel when I do that alone. It's complexed, and it is complicated to explain. To tell you the truth, I am still trying to get a hang of it. But at least it helps me to write, this confused state of mine, as I spill my words over the blank pages of the notebook. It helps to have a crack in the heart and a bit of insanity in the mind when you write.

"A painter paints pictures on canvas. But musicians paint their pictures on silence."

--- Leopold Stokowski

The ladies backed their way out of the cafe with a tray of coffee while I was there, and both of them had a look on their faces, almost too proud and too ignorant. They looked rich, and probably lived somewhere close, but had to dress up just to be in a cafe anyway. The shorter and thinner of the two had a straight re-bonded hair that reached the end of her neck where it meets her shoulders, and hanging from them a sleeveless top of silver that glistered under the yellow lights of the street lamp. She was the one with the dog, which she hugged in one hand while the other a plastic cup of ice-blended Mocha. Her friend was plumper than she is, and dressed in a tight spaghetti top, her excess flesh literally flowed out from the edges of her wardrobe like stuffed sausages. It was a dreadful sight to behold indeed, as I tried my very best to hide my disgust and concentrate on the notes I was writing.

They found a place just a couple of steps below, and lighted their cigarettes in the smoking area, with the dog chained to the lady's chair, helpless. But the dog clearly was agitated and uncomfortable, and it barked mercilessly at every passerby. One of them tried to tease the dog, and that act triggered an endless row of barking that displeased most of the customers at the cafe. The dog barked, even after the man got into his car with his girlfriend and drove off. Perhaps his scent lingered in the air and the dog was uncomfortable with that. Its barks traveled down the streets and the lady was annoyed. But the dog wouldn't stop barking as the other fellow customers looked on, and as she tried to grasp a hand over the dog's mouth, it only struggled harder and barked louder.

They say that dogs bark when they are afraid. A common misconception is that dogs bark to show off their ferociousness, or their strength perhaps. But the truth is, animals - not just dogs - bark when they feel threatened, when they feel scared. I bet that dog must have been petrified in view of all those strangers walking by and by. Just like me, perhaps the dog was using its barks to conceal a certain fear, who knows?

To be honest, I feel like I am using hurtful words to cover up my heartbreak or fears as well. I wrote a song last night on the computer, and deleted it at completion. I figured, nothing mattered now more than the future, and the future most certainly does not involve nostalgia of the past. But who are we to say that for sure? The uncertainty drove me to the brink of my own destruction, fear dominated my thoughts and I spurted out hurtful words to the person I used to love. Perhaps I am just hoping that in the process of doing so, perhaps I might find some truth in these words and start to despise you. I wouldn't want to do that of course, but how else will the healing start? How else can I start to fix myself if not to feel utter resentment?

A breakup can be so beautiful in a tragic way, like the browning of leaves in the autumn. But when the healing refuses to begin, or when it stops all of a sudden for depression, Hell stems from the broken heart and the nostalgic mind. The breakup itself is nothing, compared to the loneliness that ensues. Especially the kind of loneliness that you do not share. Nothing hurts like nothing at all, and hurt hurts indeed. It really does.

Which is why I admire Corinna's courage, as she browsed through my archives and teared. At least you had the courage to do so, at least you have the bravery to face the past and say that they happened, and you lost those emotions for ever. To ask me to read through those old entries would be a herculean task.

I remember standing at the balcony one day so many months ago, breathing the air of love and having a sense of opportunity and freedom, a sense that happiness was about to happen. But my mistake was, that THAT was happiness, and that was it. Whatever ensued was a journey downhill from there. I haven't the courage to go back to the old words that I typed, and view them with the innocent mind that I had while typing those. Unlike you my dearest friend, I do not have the courage to face upon the harsh realities that the love that I once owned, left with a love that she newly found. I cannot accept that, and as much as I'd like to tell myself that I can survive this, I in turn ask myself: But for how long more?

Because with this depression, healing just seems to be a long way from where I am.



Clarissa Vaughan," I remember one morning getting up at dawn, there was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. And of course there will always be more. It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then."



Louise Waters," That's kind. I went back to Wellfleet."
Clarissa Vaughan," You did?"
Louise Waters," One day. I didn't tell you?"
Clarissa Vaughan," No! But then, I never see you."
Louise Waters," You remember the house? It's still there."
Clarissa Vaughan," I think you're courageous."
Louise Waters," Courageous? Why?"
Clarissa Vaughan," To dare to go visit. What I mean is to face the fact, that we have lost those feelings forever."
Louise Waters," Clarissa?"
Clarissa Vaughan," I don't know what's happening, I'm sorry. I seem to be in a strange sort of mood. It's very rude of me. I seem to be unraveling."
Louise Waters," I shouldn't have come."
Clarissa Vaughan," No! It's not you, it's not you. It's more like having a presentiment, do you know what I'm saying? Oh God, it's probably just nerves about the party...bad hostess."
[Clarissa breaks down]
Louise Waters," Clarissa, what's happening?"
Clarissa Vaughan," Jesus..."
Louise Waters," What is it?"
Clarissa Vaughan," Oh, God..."
Louise Waters," You want me to go?"
Clarissa Vaughan," No! Don't go! Don't go, explain to me why this is happening."
[Louise Waters approaches Clarissa to comfort her.]
Clarissa Vaughan," Don't...don't touch me, Jesus. It's better if you don't. It's just too much! You, flying in from San Francisco, and I've been nursing Richard for years. And all the time, I have held myself together, no problem!"
Louise Waters," I know."
Clarissa Vaughan," One morning, in Wellfleet. You were there, we were all there. I've been sleeping with him, and I was out on the back porch. He came out behind me, put his hand on my shoulder,' Good morning Mrs. Dalloway'. From then on I've been stuck."
Louise Waters," Stuck?"
Clarissa Vaughan," Yes. With the name, I mean. And now you walk in. To see you walk in, because I never see you. I mean look at you! Anyway, it doesn't matter. It was you he stayed with, it was you he lived with. I had, one summer..."

--- The Hours (2002)