Monday, 28 April 2014

Fatigued and Slightly Mad.

Last night was a bad one. Tired? Worse. The old fatigue thing reached a new low, so much so that I nearly went to bed at 10 o’clock. That’s as bad as it gets, right? Only people who are ill, over eighty, or normal go to bed that early. Normal isn’t something I’ve ever been and I’m a long way short of eighty, so I reckon I must have been ill. I was a bit depressed, too. I spent my YouTube sessions searching for depressing or melancholy songs to match my mood. And I have an exercise regime I go through every night before showering, come hell or high water. Not last night. Neither hell nor high water came close to matching last night.

One of the songs I came across was this:

The woman he’s singing about reminds me of somebody I know, somebody who’s slightly mad, and therein lies the message: I generally get on best with people who are slightly mad.

Nobody understands really mad people, do they? Not even experts in the study of really mad people. Neither do I, but I don’t understand normal people either. I don’t understand why they’re interested in the things they’re interested in. I mean, if you’re not going to question life until it capitulates and admits it’s a bit of a failure, how are you ever going to win? The beauty of slightly mad people is that they question everything, and that I understand.

And it’s getting to that time of year when I shall be reminded with uncomfortable frequency that I belong to the cocktail school when it comes to the appreciation of ambient experiences. I’m one of those unfortunates who find my Harvey Wallbanger quite undrinkable when somebody’s slipped a teaspoonful of engine oil into it. I remember it being a particular problem when I was taking daily walks along the sand dunes on the Northumberland coast. It's a difficulty that goes along with being slightly mad.

And did you know that the Harvey Wallbanger was invented in 1952 by a man called Donato ‘Duke’ Antone, who was a three-time world champion mixologist? Mixologist? That’s as bad as being a lifestyle guru, albeit rather more useful.

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