They play a radio in the office I work in. Which makes me feel like a builder.
For the last week it has been tuned to Absolute Classic Rock, which means my mundane day-to-day tasks are now accompanied by the tepid music I used to listen to as a teenager. This depresses me for various reasons. The main one being that I am reminded of a distant, naive time in my life when my mind contained hope, excitement, anticipation, about the future. The second key factor is, once rendered into an emotionally caprious state due to the adolescent memories flooding my brain, my easy susceptibility to unexpected catharses caused by the pre-poetic lyrics of crap rock music.
The most striking example to date has been the chorus of Bon Jovi’s seminal “It’s My Life”, a song squarely dedicated to “the broken-hearted”, not really a demographic I’d claim to be a part of.*The lyrics are thus:
“It’s my life, it’s now or never, I ain’t gonna live forever.”
And that’s the kicker. This shit nine to five role DEFINES me. Not for long, no, that’s true… But for now – it IS my life.
I’m probably not going to live forever. And this, I’m ashamed to admit, is my life.
Brought to thought by Jon Bon Jovi.
I’m one of a kind.
*”Dead-eyed depressive” is the term I prefer to use.