More doom jazz/dark jazz/jazz noir from France – Dale Cooper Quartet & The Dictaphones…
The mood/vibe is just stuck here, like a bad weather front. It’s not moving, at least not for today. This is another soundtrack, and sounds like one. The reference to Twin Peaks in the name of the group is no accident. Like the TV show and the movie, the music bridges the gap between the average weird day and the plain eerie. It may or may not be worth mentioning that the first sight upon walking outside this morning with the dog was a pitch-black cat. What does one do with such superstitions? Disregard entirely the same way I would the guy in Times Square crying about the End of Days? Probably…
It’s a cloudy morning. The air is thick and damp. It’s not hot but the humidity draws out the heavy sweat nonetheless. I’m ready for autumn and my patience is thin these last few days. I’m weary of being damp.
I have to return some calls and messages today. People don’t leave the birthday thing alone. How do I explain in a way people will listen that it makes me uncomfortable? That I’m not being a grump about it for the sake of being a grump… Yes, I should be grateful that people want me to acknowledge it as a special day for me, and that they want me to feel special and treat me as such. None of it is a question of feeling bad about myself though and my feelings on this deserve some respect also, even when I can’t articulate them. The whole situation is frustrating. I really don’t want to hurt peoples’ feelings but at some point my own feelings have to matter. Now I have to spend part of today acknowledging theirs’ when my own don’t seem to be respected.
How’s that for a resentment? So now guilt also… It’s a strange, old world.
But there is always a soundtrack. There has to be a soundtrack.
And that’s the last thing I’m going to say about the matter of marking another year. I will admit that there were a few surprises on the greetings list though. Some conspicuous absences (maybe they finally accept) and a few unexpected appearances. It was a fucking odd day.
Another fucking odd day.
The world went pear-shaped a long, long time ago but perhaps the problem with mood in the last week or so is a growing inability to put it aside and think about other things. There is the virus. There is the violence. The language of the last few years itself is violent. It’s not that there has ever been any civil discourse that wasn’t bullshit and virtue signaling but nobody is even pretending anymore. It’s just vitriol. The fundraising messages I get via e-mail now come in with shrill, alarmist headlines. Do they reflect the urgency of the situation or do they amplify the urgency, or are they… I don’t know? Why start screaming now? It seems… late. It annoys me.
But lots of things annoy me lately.