Teenage Wasteland

I’m feeling a bit depressed today and I realize that listening to “Baba O’Riley” isn’t exactly helping matters, even though it is quite an excellent song. The version I’m listening to is a demo Peter Townshend did for his Lifehouse Chronicles project.

I find listening to demos of well-known songs an interesting proposition. It can be hit or miss in terms of adding to my appreciation of the song and the artist. For example, I have a Doors boxset with some demos on it that are just bland that I much prefer the studio versions, but in this case, because Pete is such a consumate musician and perfectionist, every song is similiar enough to the studio versions that I want to continue listening. And the differences are ‘different’ enough to keep my interest. That plus the songs that never made it to Who’s Next.

Anyway, like I said, I’m a bit depressed today. Not in a “The Whole World Sucks I Must Assume The Fetal Position In Bed” way, but in an “Eh, What’s The Point of Working When There’s ‘World of Warcraft’” way.

The good thing is I know myself well enough to know which Well of Angst this cup has been drawn from. The Fetching Mrs. Bixby is out of town this week for the first time in several months and I usually get a bit down when she’s gone. It’s not usually a big deal, I can shake it off with a good beer or three the first day and this time of year is her heaviest travel time anyway, you’d think I’d prepare myself mentally for it. Usually, by the second or third trip of the season, I’m all, “Oh you were gone?” about the whole thing, but see, I just passed my 41st birthday on Saturday and she left on Monday. Couple that with the first set of shitty days here in Portland and the start of some REALLY boring shit at work and I find myself feeling ENTIRELY too sorry for myself.

Don’t get me wrong. I fully enjoyed my birth DAY and party with the family and friends on Sunday, but to go from a day surrounded by people you like being around to the next where the person you cuddle with in bed is gone for a week, you’d have to be made of stone not to feel SOMETHING.

The gifts were quite good. Everyone knows me only too well and I got no less than three gift certificates for book stores. I also got the aforementioned Lifehouse Chronicles, an extremely excellent bottle of wine and a couple of cigars, AND tickets to see Ron “You Can’t Fix Stupid” White at the Schnitz in November. All in all, absolutely NOTHING to feel anything other than happiness about.

You know, writing this entry has made me feel better. Hey, thanks for listening!