Ebbs and flows

I'm battling. Just by saying so, the thought makes itself reminded that I could simply stop battling, take a step back and realise how pointless and trivial it all is. I do that, then I throw myself back into the turmoil, as if something in me needed that self indulgence in negativity. 

The first few weeks of elation that followed my return to Taipei were quickly followed by this silent tension which I felt has been growing fast inside. Has it been triggered by my (temporary) fall out with ChingYao? Alberto's mute rejection? Do I create the situation where nothing seems to be right in my life? Do I have to blame it on the moon, the eclipse, the stars, the lunar knot - something Nicolas has been telling me about, which still doesn't make much sense to me, or the change of time? ...
Whatever the reason, I'm starting to believe I am in depression. Nicolas had hinted that fact when he was there in Taipei, last spring. Depression, not just since last week, it's been months, if not years, with ups and downs. And the downs are getting more dangerous at each ebb and flow. 

I'm losing the appetite for things, I desperately cling to what I see as my only salvation - work, music, something creative. I don't know whether this image of a lonesome artist is that successful. Work itself has proved unsatisfactory. Finding words to explain it leads me to this familiar conclusion: it all depends on me; then why do I take so much wicked pleasure in dragging myself down?



I find some solace in the company of Brendon and Lesley. They're kindness and light spirit are soothing to me. They want to open the basement and turn into a cosy café for people who wish for a more intimate atmosphere as opposed to the broad light of the first floor. 
 

I enjoy having ChihWei at home. He's completely focused on his upcoming concert this Friday - tomorrow already! This energy brings me calm and helps me go through this troubled time. The pianist, one of those once celebrated young prodigies now turned adult seems to be creating a tug of war. The young star (or his parents) doesn't want to be just an accompanist - how could he even think he would be, these two sonatas, César Franck and Richard Strauss' are (beautiful) hell to play for the pianist! I was amused to see how in the programme a sonata for flute and piano has now been termed, 'Sonata for PIANO and flute'...

Well, if one has a closer look, it's again the same story involving an ignorant, egomaniac backstage dragon-lady mother who wants the 'best' for her son.

Strawberry boy Ryan popped up into my life. He's young. 22, tall, puppy-faced with cherry lips. Delicious in his eagerness to see as much of me as he can. Also quite outgoing and observant - he's studying public relation. 

I'm like a cat which has been thrown into cold water and is still shivering and shocked to know what to do. But the very fact that someone wants me in this simple and direct manner is comforting. But yes, like Charity Hope Valentine in Sweet Charity, I can't help giving it one more try.