Depression #2

I'm depressed.

Why?

Because I work and work and work and work and then I come home and fall asleep then I get back up to work again.

C'mon, I know you do a lot more than that. You play guitar, you look for new music on the internet. You're being melodramatic.

Hey, what about validating my feelings, motherfucker?

You know what I'm talking about.

Okay. But I'm still frustrated.

Look, I know what you're saying. It's a tough one. I have no answers. Except maybe to take care of yourself. You taking care of yourself, farmboy?

Oh, man, I need to. My stomach hurts all the damn time, I dehydrate myself every fuckin' day. like a fuckin' idiot. I starve myself for half the day and eat too much at night, I need to eat way more fruits and vegetables, I need to drink more water.

Are you taking care of yourself in other ways -- spiritually, artistically, emotionally?

Musically...

Musically. How are you doing?

You know, I try. I really do. I haven't been listening to too much music lately. I need to find some new sounds to fall asleep to. I feel like I'm always on this search to find more music. I'm never satisfied.

What have you been listening to, when you do listen to music?

I listen to Iron and Wine a lot. I heard Big Star the other day and it sounded great. Philip Glass. But really, not a lot of music. Usually it's to fall asleep to.

And speaking of sleep...

I sleep pretty well. I get sore and my stomach gets sore lately, though. But I actually think I get plenty of sleep.

Which. by the way, is where I'm going to be going to pretty soon.

Well, good night, farmboy.

You have a good one, too.

Yeah, okay, but not now, okay?

If it's okay with you, can we keep things light?

Of course.

Uhhh...now I don't know what to say.

Do you feel awkward?

Yeah, a little bit. I recover slowly from emotional stuff, especially stuff that's kinda confrontational.

Man, the more I try to get away from talkin' about stuff, the more it keeps comin' up. I need a fuckin' rest, man. I wished I liked sports or stupid comedies or mystery novels. I wouldn't mind escaping for awhile.

So take a little vacation.

I can't. I have to work, plus I can't afford to go anywhere.

I didn't mean a literal vacation...

Oh.

I guess there's reading, and I guess there's sleep. I just got this book from the library called Outliers. It's by this Malcolm Gladwell dude. I think he might be one of those really brainy guys, but that might be just because he's named Malcolm Gladwell.

I just finished this other book The Financial Lives of the Poets by Jess Walter, who lives in Spokane, Washington. I think I trust a writer more if he lives in a city like Spokane, Washington. Man, it was a great book. I really didn't want it to end, plus the main character, he's, like, a pothead like me.

So about marijuana, do you think you might be smoking a bit too much...

No, I don't want to look at that sort of stuff right now. I need to escape, remember?

You're right. So you've been reading...

Yeah. I like reading, if I can get into the book. (laughs) It really helps with lyric writing, I think.

What about poetry?

Man, I just can't get into most of it. I'm a song guy, myself. I like to have the melody and rhythm. And I know poetry has melody and rhythm, but...y'know, I think I'm probably just not smart enough for poetry.

You just can't talk without putting yourself down, can you?

Uhhh, remember, keep it light?

I would like to talk about that sometime. You putting yourself down.

Yeah, okay, but not now, okay?

Okay.

Okay.

I been beat up

Hey.

Hey.

Look, I...

Hey...

I need to talk. Listen. I'm sorry. i made a mistake. I shouldn't have tricked you and I shouldn't have pressured you about stuff you were uncomfortable talking about. I really regret what I did and I'm sorry.

(silence)

How are you? Are you okay?

(pause) I...I'm okay. (pause) I feel like I been beat up. I'm exhausted. (pause) Uh, thanks. Thanks for talking first, 'cause I didn't know what to say. I been thinking about all kinds of things...

I bet you have.

I'd feel pissed at you then I'd get pissed at me 'cause I'd feel guilty and feel like I caused it all. And then I think about how I fucked up this...friendship or whatever the fuck this is. I mean, this interview. And then I get thinking about how alone I really am, and how I hardly see my friends and I want to be alone all the time and that was okay but then you started asking me all these questions...

And nobody ever asks you...

Nobody ever asks me nothin'. Then you come along and you pretend to be interested...

I am interested!

...and I got everything bottled up and it's just such a relief to...be talkin' with another human being. So I start opening up (starts to cry a little)...and...fuck, man, I fuck up a fuckin' interview. Man. I am just pathetic...

You didn't fuck up anything. And you're not pathetic. You're a human being, you cry, you feel things. I'm a human being, too. And human beings make mistakes, which is what I did.

Can we still be friends, or whatever the hell we are?

Of course. Look, I want you to trust me. I'm afraid of losing your trust.

I don't trust anybody.

I know. But you really can trust me.

Oh, man, I am so fucked up. What am I gonna do?

You're doing it. You don't know it yet, but you're working hard at it all the time, every day.

(silence)

Fuck, man. Farmboy, you are a lot smarter and stronger than you know. I'm glad I know you.

Friends?

Friends.

(pause)

Good.

Never too close

Hey, look! It's the hero of our story! How are you?

Well, I'm not a hero, let's get that straight. I think you call me things like that just to fuckin' irritate me.

Yeah, it's so hard for you to hear good things about yourself. I've thought about that. I bet it makes you crazy. Or fuckin' crazy, as you would say.

Yeah, I'm cursing more and more lately. What about it, you fuckin' douche bag? (laughs)

Glad I can amuse you. Funny guy. So does it make you crazy when I say good things about you?

Uhhh, yeah, Yes it does. I almost can't take it and I'm not sure why.

Well, learn how to take it, man. Because I ain't stopping.

Hey, in local news, I wrote a workable first draft of a new song today. I'm not sure what I think about it, though. I'll have to play around with it.

What's the title?

"Never Too Close." It's about the necessity to kinda cut yourself off from people in order to survive.

Sounds cheerful enough.

It's got kinda a cheery melody.

I have been meaning to ask about people in your life. You got emotional issues, you got songwriting. You got music everywhere, which is a great thing. But you never talk about friends or lovers or if you have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend or whatever, I don't care. You talk about famous musicians, but do you have friends? Are you close to anybody?

Stop it.

No. Do you have anybody? Even just a friend anywhere?

I got friends. I gotta keep them at arms length, though. You can't get too close. I have no romantic interests. And if I did, I tell you, I wouldn't go there. No fuckin' way, dude. I gotta be safe. And I gotta prevent anybody from being subjected to the disease called me.

That's the saddest thing I've ever heard you say.

Sadder than "waste of skin"?

Fuck you.

(stunned) Wait, I'm supposed to say stuff like that. That's my line.

I'm just wasting your time and my time. Let's call this off. I've got better ways to spend my time.

Here, I'll stop. I'll behave.

I don't want you to behave. You're not a child and I'm not a parent or your therapist or your priest. I'm not an authority figure.

(silence)

See you around.

(starts to cry) C'mon, don't leave me. I'm sorry. You get me used to talkin' to somebody, like you're my friend, and...

C'mon, motherfucker, be my friend. C'mon, man, don'i leave.

God damn it, I keep fuckin' things up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

(smiles) Scared you, huh?

Motherfuckin' son of a bitch. Fuckin' asshole. You got me fuckin' cryin' in front of you.

It's okay to cry.

Leave me the fuck alone!

You were scared.

No I wasn't.

You don't want to be alone sometimes.

Leave me the fuck alone, you fuckin' dickwad.

Hey, see you tomorrow?

Leave me alone.

Steel strings on wood

Weekend's here, week is over. Good week?

Well, the big thing was the whole song-in-a-contest stuff. And especially writing the song. It feels good to have written, you know, it's amazing when it goes right (laughs). It's like I feel, I don't know, it's like I feel more like me, you know.

I'm proud of you.

(surprised) Really?

Are you proud of yourself?

It makes me happy that you're proud of me. (pause) Those were my father's last words to me before he died.

Let's change the subject. Please.

Sure. What do you want to talk about?

Something trivial, you know, something light. Uhhh...I got nothing I really have to do this weekend. I'll see my brother and his family, I'll play guitar. Maybe I'll write something. How about you?

Super Bowl Sunday!!!

I wish I liked sports. I would think it would be fun to get excited about a football game. I have respect for athletes, but I don't really appreciate sports.

It does seem silly, these adults playing with a ball.

It makes as much sense to me as making these sounds from steel strings on wood. And that's the kind of thing that excites me. Making sounds, telling stories to these sounds.

Been playing guitar?

I play guitar pretty much every day, and I try for picking up that guitar at least three times a day. I get a lot of satisfaction playing guitar. (laughs) I love my guitar. We're collaborators.

I like the way you put that...

It's true. I think of the audience in that way, too, that what they bring to the music is collaborating. What they filter the music through. Am I making sense? Jeff Tweedy says this kind of thing in interviews too, but he's much, much smarter than me.

You're pretty smart.

I worry about not being smart. Sometimes I wonder if I'm stupid. But I don't want to go there tonight. I want to smoke weed and luxuriate in the fact that the work week is done and over with.

And so you will. Happy Friday, farmboy.

About fuckin' time, motherfucker.

Good to be happy

Good to see you. I expected to see you yesterday,

And I fully expected to be here but I was tired. You see, what happened is, I sent an e-mail to the songwriting contest and they wrote me back this super nice e-mail saying I could do the contest.

That's awesome! Did you enter?

Yeah. It was a lot of work, but I sent it.

Are you glad?

Yeah, I am. Getting in means I would get to see old friends and make new friends. Actually, yesterday was a great day. I was given weed buy a co-worker. It was a good day. Wasn't that a song by Ice Cube or Ice T or somebody like that.

It's good to see you happy.

It's good to be happy.

So, what happens now?

I got three months before the winners are announced, so that means I can fantasize about things. Man, I would love to get in, and I'm kinda afraid of that...getting hopes up, getting rejected. I can be really bad at being rejected.

I bet.

Hey!

What I mean by that is that you're a sensitive guy. You feel things deeply. That's why you write the songs you write. It just stands to reason that when you get disappointed you get...

Devastated. Yeah, I know, it's true. So entering can be an actual risk. You hope it's worth it.

I hope it's worth it to you.

Thanks. I hope so too.

You are not a waste of skin

Hey Slugger, how're you doing?

Slugger? Give me a fuckin' break.

I thought it might be a step up from "farmboy." Man, somebody's in a bad mood.

Fuck you!

Hey. hey man...

Fuck it, you can't do nothin', you know. I can't do nothin' right, anyway. I'm a waste of skin. Excuse me. (gets up, goes into the bathroom, a lighter is heard. Comes back after a few minutes.)

Marijuana?

The one and only.

What happened, farmboy?

(quietly) This is gonna sound stupid. You remember when I told you about the song and the contest? Well, I fuckin' worked and worked, man. I took the day off like you said, and I went through every bit of technology mistakes, man, they were like fuckin' red lights on the main drag, y'know? I was even crying at one point. And so I finally do it, then I go to enter it electronically, and I get a message that the deadline has passed.

I thought February 1st was the deadline.

Yeah, so did I.

Fuck.

Y'know. I know it's no big deal, but it was important to me.

I am such a loser.

You know you're not. You've got a right to feel bad. Man, you really care about your music.

I do. It's not just an ego thing. It's, like, my life.

I'm sorry about this.

Why? It's not your fault.

It's getting late for a weeknight, and you have to go to work tomorrow. I feel like I'm always telling you to get to bed, to get rest, to take care of yourself. So I won't tell you that.

Gee, thanks.

You okay?

(sighs) I still haven't accepted it. I'm kinda afraid of what will happen, 'cause I don't react well to things, and I don't want to be angry, 'cause I'm no good at anger, and...what if I start cryin'? I can't do that. I'm so afraid I'm going to lose control.

Over a songwriting contest? You know, you have a new song and you figured out how to record it...

I know, it's stupid. I'm so fuckin' sensitive.

You feel things really deeply. That can be hard on you.

No shit.

You do what you want, but I've got to get some sleep. Good night, farmboy.

Hey, I'm sorry about being such an asshole earlier.

Look...you're not a waste of skin.

I'm gonna start cryin', man, don't make me...

You're not a waste of fuckin' skin.

Prove it.

Stop that.

Stop what?

(Ignores comment) Be kind to yourself. Good night, pardner. (leaves)

See you tomorrow?