Singing the Blues
I wanted this post to be an uptempo review of the Peats Ridge Festival and a reflection on the glory of getting away from it all. However, while there were pockets of fun and there was some good music, it was for the most part difficult and exhausting.
This is a time of year when I am particularly prone to being pulled under the dark and murky waters of the blues. This is a time of year when I look back at the year just past – or the decade just past – and find myself lacking, but instead of feeling motivated or inspired by the potential of the year to come I just feel completely unbalanced, unable to look to the future beyond getting through today. “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold” and in my case this means I am all thumbs, elbows and left feet, stubbing my toes, knocking things over, even throwing up. Stress, anxiety, blues ahoyhoy.
Anyway, I wasn’t sure whether to post this – I know this is where I come to pay attention to the joy in things, but it’s not all beer and skittles, as my nanna used to say and I think it’s important to acknowledge the blues once in a while, if only to appreciate the other colours more fully the rest of the time.
Tomorrow there will be no blues. Only pop, folk, rock and funk. Promise.