coming death goes both ways
Nov. 30th, 2022 03:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ffloI found a thin body acoustic guitar online that appeals more than any I've seen, but it's way expensive. Not available until next year, at least, so I can't be impulsive. But that makes me think: do I want to make such an extravagant purchase? There's a less extravagant but also extravagant version. I've not really gotten into the electric guitar I bought a few years ago--- I play it with very little amplification so that it's kinda like a thin-body acoustic. So in the I-haven't-been-playing -let-alone-learning-more sense, which an old friend of mine would no doubt suggest in these circumstance, I haven't earned the nice guitar. But feh to that.
And then there's the whole recent striking experience of the person next to me on colonoscopy day and her pending death, and how that's got me all thinking about how death is waiting, and probably won't be a long time coming, although who knows. Anyway, here's the thing about that and the guitar: it could be a reason to go for it (I suddenly have discretionary money these days, a few years into beating my consumer debt, and am enjoying the one stretch of time in which I've had this luxury) and it could be a reason not to (I may barely be around to play it and then there it'll be, another thing in the pile of stuff someone else will have to dispense with). And THAT brings me ---finally, gloriously, and please may I hang onto this--- to the absurdity of reasons, this oppression of thinking, this nonsense of sense.
So much nonsense of sense. I'm tired of the figuring out, the cogitations, the running over things in my head and endlessly trying on for size ahead of making any decisions. Heck, the power of the impulse is mostly, I suspect, the relief it promises from the obsession.
Put another way, maybe I've already done plenty of thinking things through for one life. I'll still do some when I have to, but, hey, Muses, how about maybe i will, like, you know, cut it out, largely? Mostly? Some?
I dunno whether I'll get the guitar or not. The less fancy but fancy one would still be great. The super-pretty and lovely-sounding one could still get me next year. Who knows.
Just realized that the woman will die right around when the guitar comes out. The anticipated date for each event is the same month.
I'd tell you the whole tale of the woman next to me, but I've texted it to one friend and told it to my driver and my therapist and a recovery meeting, in various degrees of detail. It has a lot to say to me about various things, but is perhaps most striking because I know all this stuff about her from being on the gurney on the other side of a curtain from her while she answered lots of questions & had numerous digressions with the medical professionals. The whole time in major pain, having had to stop taking her meds before her procedure. I can tell I'm itchin' to tell the whole thing to you now, but I'ma stop. The stranger has been with me for almost a week now. I've thought about how I might read a lot of obits next year & see if I can figure out who she is (or, you know, then was). She's grabbed me big-time.
And then there's the whole recent striking experience of the person next to me on colonoscopy day and her pending death, and how that's got me all thinking about how death is waiting, and probably won't be a long time coming, although who knows. Anyway, here's the thing about that and the guitar: it could be a reason to go for it (I suddenly have discretionary money these days, a few years into beating my consumer debt, and am enjoying the one stretch of time in which I've had this luxury) and it could be a reason not to (I may barely be around to play it and then there it'll be, another thing in the pile of stuff someone else will have to dispense with). And THAT brings me ---finally, gloriously, and please may I hang onto this--- to the absurdity of reasons, this oppression of thinking, this nonsense of sense.
So much nonsense of sense. I'm tired of the figuring out, the cogitations, the running over things in my head and endlessly trying on for size ahead of making any decisions. Heck, the power of the impulse is mostly, I suspect, the relief it promises from the obsession.
Put another way, maybe I've already done plenty of thinking things through for one life. I'll still do some when I have to, but, hey, Muses, how about maybe i will, like, you know, cut it out, largely? Mostly? Some?
I dunno whether I'll get the guitar or not. The less fancy but fancy one would still be great. The super-pretty and lovely-sounding one could still get me next year. Who knows.
Just realized that the woman will die right around when the guitar comes out. The anticipated date for each event is the same month.
I'd tell you the whole tale of the woman next to me, but I've texted it to one friend and told it to my driver and my therapist and a recovery meeting, in various degrees of detail. It has a lot to say to me about various things, but is perhaps most striking because I know all this stuff about her from being on the gurney on the other side of a curtain from her while she answered lots of questions & had numerous digressions with the medical professionals. The whole time in major pain, having had to stop taking her meds before her procedure. I can tell I'm itchin' to tell the whole thing to you now, but I'ma stop. The stranger has been with me for almost a week now. I've thought about how I might read a lot of obits next year & see if I can figure out who she is (or, you know, then was). She's grabbed me big-time.
