Sitting in City on a Hill sipping my fifth stiff coffee when it hits.
No, not inspiration—the opposite of that.
Call it melancholia, call it depression.
Call it the madman inside my head.
Call it that which can take your breath away forever, if you're not careful.
Call it whatever you want, just don't call it welcome.
The blues.
Hey there! It's me again, the blues! Missed ya bud!
Go away.
But I just got here!
I know, please leave. You ruin everything.
No, I like it here with you!
Well if you won't leave, then I will.
…
I exit the coffee shop. I drive into the woods. I set up my tent and start preparing to prepare my dinner, when out of nowhere the rains arrive for the millionth day in a row.
I curse the inconvenient sky and all gods involved in this nonsense. I get in my car and roll the windows up and try to think of something reasonable to write.
Hey! What's up?
Goddammit. Stop following me, blues.
I'll stop following you, the day you stop leaving me! Whatcha writing?
Nothing.
You're lying! I can see your notebook and pen right there, silly!
It's none of your business.
It's always my business! You're writing that dreary poetry of yours again, aren't you?
No.
Liar liar pants on fire!
Fuck you.
…
I close my notebook, open the door, and go for a walk in the rain. Maybe I'll get lucky and find an arrowhead in this miserable drizzle.
Or, more likely, none of the hunters who ever hunted here, ever missed or lost a single point. More likely, they were the lucky ones.
Talking to yourself again! Kinda crazy don'tcha think?
No. Everyone does it, it's normal.
Nah, you're just crazy! Hey, have you thought about killing yourself recently?
No actually I haven't for a while now… wait. Dammit. Yes, as of right now. You're a dick.
A dick you can count on! The blues, at your service!
My funeral service, sure.
Ha ha, that's the spirit!
I hate you.
…
I wander off into the wilderness with no aim. Up, maybe. Or down. I don't know. I don't care. It's everywhere. If I leave it follows. If I run it catches up. If I ignore it it tries to murder me.
The cold is kicking in. I need to get back to my car and I need to get dry. All around me is wet and wrecked and saturated.
Saturated.
Saturated?
Hold on…
…
…
Eureka!
I've found it!
A fix for the blues!
The quickest fix yet, for all level of blues!
How did I miss this fix?
How did I not see this fix sooner?
The answer is clear:
It's in the saturation!
…
…
So ready,
set,
desaturate!
…
…
Snap crackle and pop, the blues are gone!
Behold: blues, unblued!
Bluest of blues, you shall not pass!
Cruelest of blues, you've blued your last!
Away with you, blues!
I'm sick of your shit!
Nice knowing ya, dude!
Don't miss ya, one bit!
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📘 🖌 🚙 💙
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7-9-21. I win again, blues.
Thanks for reading. If you liked this content, you might also like my buddy otherbrandt's LeoFinance tentlife blog. It's decent.