Standards and Grudges

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In the waning days of my exile in California I started listening a lot to a band called Hum. The driving force behind their music is no doubt what I call chaotic visual poetry. One song in particular, The Very Old Man, always had a major impact on me. The meaning always seems to change over time. I forgot about Hum when I returned to Wisconsin only to rediscover them a couple years later while loading music onto my iPod. Time passed and I forgot again. I don’t know what caused me to remember them again recently. I had a melody stuck in my head and the lyrics to match the melody eluded me for a long time. It finally dawned on me what the song was that was repeating in my mind.

It seems that I return to Hum when I most need it. Sometimes you need something that can calm your mind by challenging it with poetic visuals. When the thoughts in your head feel like they’ll crack your skull open, you must find a distraction, if only for a few minutes.

If you’ve ever been an insomniac, like me, then you might be familiar with being so tired that you don’t trust your own perception. I went out last night and there were a series of events. I wouldn’t call these events out of the ordinary, except this is the kind of thing I haven’t been part of in a long time. I was at a bar and a girl was flirting with me, I think. I didn’t trust my judgment of what was occurring. I knew what I wanted to do. Should I? I think I ended up pacing in the bar scanning the room for an evil presence.

Is it possible to become so paranoid you don’t trust yourself?