Notes from Maine - 2022/04/03
I have a song stuck in my head again. At least it feels like a worthy song this time. The song is “Just” by Radiohead.
“You do it to yourself, you do. And that’s what really hurts … is you do it to yourself, just you—you and no one else.”
It has a good melody, interesting lyrics, and I’ve heard it maybe fifteen thousand times in my head over the last few days. Sometimes I hum the ascending guitar line. Sometimes I whisper the lyrics. It pops up whenever I’m not actively concentrating on something. Or, I’ll be completely absorbed by a task and it will interrupt and intrude on my thoughts, replacing them with an endless loop of the only parts of the song I really know well.
Feels like there must be a reason for this musical monotony. Perhaps my mind is trying to retreat into meditation in order to avoid something, or maybe figure something out. I have a million tasks on my list right now and not much is getting crossed off. It’s difficult to relax for any period of time without feeling guilty. I just walked through the living room. A pinball machine is temporarily set up in the corner so Mom can work on it when she wants to. The machine is Jungle Lord, made by Williams in 1981. Because I saw “Jungle Lord” in big letters, for the next few minutes I’ll be humming, “Jungle Lord, driving me mad, making me crazy.”
I’ve misappropriated the song “Jungle Love” by Steve Miller Band and made it the theme song for Jungle Lord. The son preceded the pinball machine by four years, but it still seems apt. At least I’m not stuck in the Radiohead loop anymore… And, of course, now that I’ve thought of Radiohead, “Just” is back in my head.
I guess I should prioritize the big, looming tasks so I can feel productive and end this cycle. I have to finish my taxes, pay a bunch of bills, spread grass seed, and fill out some forms for Dad. A lot of my other items can’t be done until the future. I’m waiting on appointments and documents in the mail. Those things loom though. Unfinished business hangs over me. I guess that’s always true.
I think that’s why the concept of boredom is so alluring. It’s impossible to conceive of a day with enough idle time to grow bored. An appointment or deadline will always hover, just out of reach, blocking true boredom from settling in.
I’m back to Radiohead.
“You do it to yourself, you do. And that’s what really hurts … is you do it to yourself, just you—you and no one else.”
Mom is watching a TV show called, “The Fall.” It’s a crime drama set in Northern Ireland. There’s something about the show that prevents me from really getting sucked in. Gillian Anderson has a life and backstory that feel distracting and disrespectful to the crimes somehow. I’m not easily offended, but there’s something about the violence in that show that upsets me. I’ve seen and imagined much, much worse. I don’t know why it bothers me. It might be worth investigating. I’ve written about serial killers. It would be good to know why this show rubs me the wrong way compared to “Hannibal,” which was horrific but compelling.
I’m going to go make a list now and put it in order.
Maybe, by the end of the day, I can put a plan together and get this song out of my head.
I do it to myself.
