June 4, 2014 by Wayne.
My post-university to-do list features, among twenty dozen other items, the need to start writing songs again. I’ve never been particularly good at it, mind you – most of my songs are just a few jangly chords propping up quasi-poetry. Doesn’t help that my voice has such a distasteful timbre to it. Or that my grasp of theory is non-existent. But I liked writing songs, in a way, and it’s troubling that I haven’t written one in over a year (Slump? slump).
I like writing lyrics, at any rate. I’m no Kevin Barnes but I think I do a decent enough job. Although – there’s something almost vulgarly personal about writing lyrics, more so than poetry I think. Plus you typically have to pare lines down even further, stripping away even more depth and pushing thematical explorations into subtext. It’s difficult. It’s personal. Harder to hide behind mixed metaphors and wink-nod references to the annals of ignominy. Instead, you have to suck it up and say yes, I wasn’t good enough, and I couldn’t cope with not being good enough and I went fucking ballistic and I cringe thinking about it not just because of how humiliating the entire thing was but also because it hasn’t really ended and I haven’t really changed.
So anyway why haven’t I been writing? Honestly, I’ve been a fucking wreck lately. Yeah, I’m used to the cycles of existential ennui and depression swapping places with apathy and contentment, but I’ve been in the ditch of depression for some time now. And okay geez I shouldn’t romanticize it but just ignore that word if it irks you so badly. It’s not like I enjoy being crushed by a hundred different problems and worrying 24/7 and hating myself and wanting to be loved. It’s not great.
Side note: I guess I’ll be writing about the whole UOL experience in due time. Couple of things I want to get around to doing first. And I probably should start writing again. Maybe I’ll get lucky and win RM2000 without joining any contest and I’ll get to fix my Macbook’s stupid motherboard and Yosemite it up at cafes every day. Can’t write much at home. Can’t do much at home, really. Such a waste.
Back on track: I’ll start writing again. Soon. Maybe today? Nah. Soon. Main priority is to start working on some actual thought pieces – been having a real problem with this lately. My thoughts are so fractured recently, it’s a real effort to tie them all together into a coherent piece, let alone something that’s both engaging and convincing. Oh, also, I’m trying to get a poetry collection out by the end of the year soooo yeah. In the meantime, I’m trying to find a job. And land freelance writing gigs. So let me know if you hear anything. Cheers.
Random thought: Listening to The Back Room by Editors for the first time, and it sounds very much like an Interpol record. Also, I’ll be watching Editors live soon! Tiger Translate, son. It’s been a while since the last gig. Although, honestly, not really up for going to a concert alone at the moment. Ah well.