To do the concentration required I have to either play guitar in the morning, or have a full rest meaning extra sleep.
Playing accelerates my bedtime in a sense also by making my bedtime earlier, especially if I play at night.
Working surely would inhibit my progress.
Anyways, “Maggie” once said, “What are we going to do once all the work on the house is done?” That time should be approaching.
Understand the “we” is “me” meaning Calvin. It is actually better if I do the work: better quality; less of a mess and cleanup; and pretty much Maggie is not so much help. Pretty much not relaxing either.
Also know that Maggie’s being occupied and chronically busy makes it easy for me to work alone. She is not a physical person. She would rather talk about work rather than actually do it. I’m just the opposite.
I would not mind all the talk, but most times it is all it is, just talk, meaning a waste of time. Less talk-more work I say. On top of all this chatter or noise comes all the procrastination that often leads to anxiety or frenzies.
Two outcomes are plausible: one is that a man, meaning me, has a shorter lifespan, and the reason is a woman; the other is Maggie kinda kills herself because of her own lifestyle of neglecting her health, not eating properly, not exercising regularly, and not maintaining a positive mental attitude.
I am concerned and worried. Retirement is fraught. Maggie’s identity as a writer is not so secure despite her accomplishments and achievements. Even on SubStack she is dealing with having a mass audience. Even though it is a mostly writing platform, it is still social media and is public.
I still see the ego come out when she is recognized by a follower. She still thrives on that. A need has developed for that kind of attention and recognition. Yesterday the curator of the show at the Hammond Museum approached her, and this kinda made her day. She could then talk about herself…
All I can do is stand back and let the fan fare happen. Oh-well.
All these podcasts and interviews are the same and repeat. At this point they are a rut and like a skipping record.
I am an old Jazz head from about 9th grade onwards. I discovered WBGO in Newark and listened to Portraits In Blue, Salsa Sundays, and of course a lot of old school Jazz.
Of course I liked rock back then also, but I loved Jazz.
Back then I was kinda alone in with my taste and appreciation. I had a sophisticated ear and I understood the complexity. By I was also an anxious kid and so out of control with impulsiveness. Many people thought I was a drummer because of the way I acted and moved.
Again it was biking and my friend Iron Mike who saved my life. I had to learn how to relax, something I had never learned to do, or I would die. I was 32 years old and my body could not take the maniac like energy I emitted. I would cycle, experience euphoria, and then depression. I was mistakenly diagnosed as Manic Depressive, but in fact it was just mucho anxiety.
Prozac and Lithium only made me more ill. I also had to deal with my past and understand what had happened to me.
Anyways, I think Maggie is at a point where she has to get in control of her anxiety or suffer the consequences. Not easy to manage. Also so many loses that leave voids behind that are making her hyper emotional in a sad way. The death of a friend takes her into a lonely alley.
The possibility or eventuality that her daughter and grand children will move a 10 hour drive away. I frame it as a good thing for them and kinda necessary. They deserve a better life. For me less personal, and I want them to be happy despite my own needs, wishes and wants.
It seems the face value of having a great home, a community, and to be able to be a creative in the wonderful Hudson Valley is easily dismissed or is being dismissed. We are in a great paradise of sorts. We enjoy comfort and financial security.
I’m happy and where I want to be, but Maggie who thinks she is so together is really and continues to be a hot mess.
Let’s see how she is today…
Cal
