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Just for the Record…
I was looking for a particular record to play this morning. 45 minutes later I wasn’t in the mood to listen to it. My record collection has become a collection, it serves no purpose other that taking up space. There is perhaps 200 records I play, of those maybe 50-80 I play regularly, and of those maybe 20 I would hate to part with.
That leaves approximately 800 records that just provide a point of friction between my desire to hear something, and actually dropping the needle. Now I could sort the albums by artist, or genre, alphabetical, decade etc. but what I’m going to do is choose the 200 I want to keep (50 per each wood crate), and box the rest up and sell them, either to a dealer, or through an auction house.
The first pass sort will be the easiest, that’s just all the jazz, weird stuff, 70s rock. Then doubles can go, or triples in some cases.
Two full boxes and I haven’t even had to make a slightly difficult decision yet. 150 down 550 to go. I’m going to try for one more box tonight, and the rest tomorrow.
I’m sure someone will appreciate some of the rarer stuff in there, records are made round to go round.
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Not So Fast…
I won’t be making any decisions about 2023 until I have taken it for a good long test drive. I’m going to be using the full 100 day love it or return it free offer. I’ve been burned before so I’m keeping the receipt.
If anyone needs me I’ll be out the back with 2022…
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Shhhh…
Let’s not tip the year off that it’s almost over, because we don’t want to give it chance to do something else horrible before midnight. I’d like to think next year will be better, but it’s been on a fairly horrid downhill trajectory since at least 2016. I’m not saying that David Bowie dying somehow broke the timeline, but…
Luckily I’m still in denial about most of the truly awful stuff that happened this year, and there is a pretty good chance I can keep it during at least the next 6-12 months without becoming a raging alcoholic or addicted to benzodiazepines. And of course I’ve been blessed with a long family history of swinging from the rope of gallows humour in the darkest of times. Saying inappropriate things to make each other laugh is dad did it, and it’s how I do it. It may not be healthy but it’s what he taught me to do.
So I might allow myself a moment of quiet reflection later tonight raise a glass and curse the year. I might start the new year with a bit of Bowie on the turntable, maybe that will break the evil spell? And even if it doesn’t playing my fathers Bowie records is still something that makes me feel closer to him for a while. He loved Bowie, and he loved that I grew up to Bowie.
Planet Earth is blue, and there’s nothing I can do…
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Head Cleaner…
There’s nothing quite like a 600km round trip with half a dozen Ministry of Sound dance albums to clear your head. Even more so on winding roads in a car with a hair trigger for an accelerator. Driving seems to occupy just enough of the cognitive functions of my brain to allow me to think, but not overthink.
I’m at peace now with keeping the farm for a few years. My emotions about it will catch up with the practicality soon enough… and I’m going to buy a small tractor mower thing, because I think it will be fun to drive around cutting grass while blaring emo music. Maybe I should get in on the goth/farming tiktok thing?
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F.I.N.E…
I am, and then I’m not. Every time I go to farm I’m convinced I’m getting better, and it’s no too bad this time… then a few hours later I’m a drained mess trying to avoid closing my eyes because of the flashbacks. Maybe I stood in the wrong room too long? Maybe it’s the knowing that I’m going to be keeping the farm for a few years now has removed the comforting thought of running away. Because I do like to runaway from a problem when I get the opportunity. Maybe I’m worried about failing, or just the sheer enormity of the job. I’m pretty sure I wish I was in a position not to have to maximize the income from the farm, but I’m not and I will not get the opportunity to set myself up like this is again. Sometimes you only get one bite at the cherry.
So I will push on. Hopefully my health improves, or at least doesn’t get worse… mind and body. The body part is at least under the care of a doctor or two, and with a bit of luck all these tests that are doing a wonderful job of ruling things out, might actually identify something they can try and fix. On the mind front I’ll keep pushing through, I’m sure at some point I’ll stop being upset by random stuff, and just be set off by stuff that actually makes sense to be triggered by. Today while I was out at the farm going over plans to pull out all the electrical work, I found my fathers old fox hunting whistle.
Fox Whistle… Suddenly I’m flooded with not only memories of my father, but of his brothers, my grandfather, and my childhood. Family wood collecting trips, the adults hunting foxes, my cousins and I making fires and cooking damper. Memories of the tacked out fox pelts in the sheds, that smell will never leave me. I’m not a hunter, I don’t like guns… but this fox whistle will hang on the hook near my bed, next to the chain that has my stepmothers wedding ring that my father wore after her death from cancer at the age of 49. He never got over it, and he never recovered from the trauma of those last few months of her life. So I know at some point I need to see someone, but I’m not up to it yet.
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If…
If you ever find someone who you can happily sit in silence with…
If you ever find someone who offers to make you a coffee, while they are getting one for themselves…
If you ever find someone who has the same favorite episode of whatever show it is you both like…
If you ever find someone that reads something out loud to you, just because they think you might like it…
If you ever find someone that puts you at ease with yourself…
If you ever find someone that opens your snack for you while you are driving…
If you ever find someone who thinks you’re pretty much okay just as you are…
Try not to mess it up.
*apologies to Mr Kipling and his tasty snacks.
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The Year of the Rabbit you say?
I’m not going to fall into the trap of saying anything positive about next year. It feels like we have been trying that since 2015 and the descent just speeds up. I’m going into things with some super low expectations, if we can just avoid a thermonuclear war and mutant plagues long enough to get the climate change disaster I’ll count that as a win.
Do you want to play a game? Maybe if I can make it till Chinese New Year without anything terrible happening I might show a tiny bit of optimism. Year of the Fat Bunny?
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Checking the Bathwater for Babies…
I’m pumping the breaks on selling the farm straight away. Six months is time to calm down and think, there is also every possibility that the paperwork is still months away. Which would pretty much be mid autumn, heading into winter, which is the exact opposite of when the farm looks the best. Also I have decided that I’m making decisions without all the information I could get. I’m not psychic… but I’m getting the vibe that backing off and letting things work themselves out a bit might be good for me in the long run. Because while I’m fairly realistic about regrets, now that I have acknowledged I’m acting emotionally and without some helpful information, I actually need to stop and think.
The new plan is to slowly work on the farm 1-2 days a week. Restore the house to something pleasant and livable. Finish the cleanup of the rest of the property, cutting in paths through the woods, restoring the gardens and stone outbuildings. While collecting information on all the options for the property. I need to know what it’s subdivision possibilities and costs are, it’s potential zoning issues or benefits. The potential to maximize some of the potential that is tied up in the leased parts of the land. And that was all stuff I was running away from when my father died.
I’m ready to be a bit less impulsive now.
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So This is Christmas…
Just checking in to let you know I did okay today. Possibly because I tried to be pretty damn gentle on myself, and mostly succeeded. It helped that the kids gifts went over well, the food was plentiful, and expectations were if not low they were at least realistic. The company of my ex-wife also helped, although I suspect she was being overly kind to me so I didn’t do any awkward griefing. We watched the kids open the gifts and their briefly happy faces, and it was nice to share that after more divorced parents 50/50 Christmases than I like to think about. I know it’s a rough time of the year for many, and I’m feeling pretty lucky that it was kind of good. May you walk away from day in one piece x
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All About Eve…
I’m having a slow day today. A bit of a house tidy up, and a good forensic scrub of the kitchen in preparation for Christmas meal preparation. It’s been a few years since I attempted a traditional Christmas, even pre pandemic I wasn’t great at it. So this year I’m taking a small run at it, tidy house, minimal decorations, one of those meal boxes that has all the ingredients and recipes all set out for you, the gifts are all wrapped and adjacent to a tiny tree.
Pre-Christmas Kitchen Scrub… The guest list is a little sparse, me, the kids, and the ex-wife dropping in and out during the day. The X is spending part of the day around the corner at her mothers house with her relatives, and the rest of the day hiding from them at my house. You could probably write a study on that, and why I’m happy to have my X here all day, but absolutely dreading a 10 min visit from my mother.
Table for 3 It’s now 6pm, and 30 degrees, the air conditioning is on for the first time this summer. The kids are in the kitchen doing preparations for tomorrow, beetroot dips and stuffing balls among other tasty things. I’m into hour 4 of a rock Christmas playlist on Spotify, and the last load of clothes is in the washing machine.
Open Source Fire… I’m currently streaming a fire on the Television, which is pretty much the only way to have a fire for an Australian Christmas, and I sort of convinced that even the fake fire is making the house too hot. I think I have done all I really need to do today, I don’t care if the house is not perfect this year. The kitchen is clean enough to cook in, and all the other rooms are tidy enough that I wouldn’t be worried about someone seeing them.
So I’m going to sit down with a drink, and toast to better days… the days that were better , and for some that hopefully will be again.
Cheers.
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Fat Bunny 