Right Now

I have quite, uncontrolably, left the world tonight. Out of some strange impulse, I hunted down this one particular track by Olafur Arnalds that I can never get enough of. A very simple, melodic piano piece with a climax in the second act of a three act song. Build and build and build. Feel its tugging and pulling. Tug. Pull. Tug. Pull. Until you get to it. You get to the part you knew you were coming to all along. The full release, if you will. The give in. Okay, this part says. Okay, it's time for us to really experience this song. And then you come to the final refrain. Feeling not quite satisfied. Feeling a bit disappointed because you know the song is about to end. And you wish that the full emotion of the song would just carry through to the end. But it doesn't. So, you play the track again, knowing that you will have to go through the anticipation again until you come to the part of the song that you really want to hear. Extend it. Extend it, please, you say to yourself. Just make it last longer this time, and then the song reposes again. It's an ongoing cycle. Never to end until you finally move on to something else. But it's been over an hour now, during which you have done absolutely nothing but stare at the computer, thinking back on this or that, picking away at the broken pieces of your life, knowing all the while that the more you pick, the worse they will get. Pick. Pick. Pick. And play the song one more time, please.

I seem to get immense satisfaction out of listening to similar songs lately, all songs implying a cyclical mode of life of which I can never free myself. I become increasingly frustrated, think to myself, this time, this time I will get out of this cycle. This time, I will find some escape. And then everything will change. But, no. I am playing the song again. Because I like it. Because it's a great song. Because it expresses more than just a repetitive sequence. Because there are high moments and there are low. Because somewhere in it all is the answer. Somewhere in it all is the place I want to be. Somewhere in the middle. Somewhere between the beginning and the end. But I have to experience the anticipation and the dissatisfaction of each in order to truly appreciate the fullest of moments. And even in experiencing the best part of the song, I have to accept that it is not lasting. That there will be a moment, sooner than I want it to come, when the song will again return to its despondent tugging and pulling. One minute up. Yes, yes I've got it this time. One minute down. No, never mind. That was not it. Wait. Wait. I think it's coming now. I think we're on to something. Yes. Yes. Yes. This is it. This is it. This is it. Oh, this is so wonderful. Wow. I simply can't believe it. I've never experienced anything like this before. Wait. No, no. We're losing it. It's leaving now. No, maybe not. Yes, yes it is. No, come back. Please come back. I was happy. Yes, I was happy. Give me the satisfaction again. And then I return to the page from which the song comes and click play once more.

There is nothing better than this struggle right now. There is nothing else. There is not even this empty office. Life outside this office. It is just me and this sad, sad song that I cannot pull myself away from. I think I hear voices every so often and wonder what it could possibly be that is producing that sound. I think, okay, I should get up and do my picture for the night now, but no, no I don't want to. I think I should really do my reading assignment. No, no. Don't want to. So many thoughts rushing through my head. Can't stop them. And yet, I'm completely at peace with my sadness. With my frustration. We've reached a compromise tonight. We know we will be at war again. But for now, we are settled. And until next time, we can appreciate the harmony of our voices. Happy. Sad. Content. Frustrated. This is it, isn't it? This is our compounded state realized for one fleeting moment in the middle of a song. A song found by accident. A song you simply must play one more time. Just one more time, you tell yourself, though you know you will play it again and again and again until you are forced to stop. Because there is nothing to stop you in this moment. There is nothing to stop you from going where you will go, from feeling what you will feel, from thinking what you think. There is no one telling you that any of this is silly. That you are crazy. Because there are some moments when you really think you are. Some moments when you think you should really restrain yourself. But that is just what the beginning and the ending of this song do. They bound the middle. They bound the best part. They isolate it. They restrict it. They suffocate it. But still it bursts forth. And it will always be there. If you'll just play the song again. Play it once more, and you will find it again. And that, that is your moment. That is when you may, by the song's cue, let all your insanity break loose. Follow the beats. Follow the path the notes of the song will you along. Until you find yourself getting back to where you started. All the world is the same. But, somehow, all the world is different. And I know not the beginning from the end anymore. I know only that somewhere in there is this most amazing, most expressive, most comprehensive representation of all that you feel. Right Now. Right now. right now. right. now.