It’s been creeping up on me slowly all day. That old feeling of being unsatisfied without knowing why. Angry at myself. Or at the world. Sick of bad news on the radio. Sad for people suffering through hard times. A headache slowly winding its way from the base of my neck to the top of my head.
There’s no cure for this feeling. It’s just got to pass. Meanwhile, I do what I can to push the feeling a few feet from me, so it’s not hovering so close. Maybe it’ll forget me and move on.
Some people drink. Some people eat chocolate. Some people go dancing. Some people do good deeds and some do dangerous things. And some do what I do: sit in a dim room with the fire roaring and play old records all evening.