The Soloist…

I think the most familiar feeling I seem to have come to loathe over time is that feeling of the Soloist…

The one man band, the one man army, the one man in the spotlight, the one man wondering in the darkness…

Sometimes I feel I’m just trudging!

Paul Bettany once remarked in ‘A Knights Tale’

“Trudging, to trudge! The slow, weary, depressing, yet determined walk, of a man who has little left in his life, except the impulse to simply soldier on…”

Some days everyone feels a bit like that I should think…

I heard someone ask the question the other day, “if your twin had died, are you still technically a twin?”

I certainly never felt that missing piece return since he left me… How fucking selfish!

Did he not know I needed him? Did he not know it was harder alone?

Eyes clouding over, mind caving in, those moments when you need someone to jump into the rapids and drag you to the rock, the safe-hold that affords you the single solitary breath you need to inch another foot, to milk another mile out of life…

Where are you? I feel you somewhere and I just can’t find you! I’m sinking and I don’t have that ability not to struggle, to claw my way out of the abyss that envelopes my emptiness, the catalyst to what may or may not become…

Every step further down the line ends in a deceit and it’s always harder and harder to keep the Secret in mind… PMA it’s that positive mental attitude Linford Christie¬†used to talk about before he deceived the world… Before he set aside his country for the Soloist…

Every day we see more of the Jimmy Saville in everything… The stuff we loved only to have it torn away… it’s the Operation Yewtree and the FA scandal ten times the size… Where does it end?

If you’re going to do something, do it!

It’s the celebrities clammering at one another for the best page, with their fingers crossed behind their back hoping no one delves any deeper, while their under paid and ill respected ‘Executive Assistants’ call the papers, hoping that at least one solitary crap photographer, with his hands half down his pants, comes to their aid, only to snap them in a posh new scarf, that was given for free by a budding young designer who never even gets a mention…

I suspect if you mix an extreme lung infection with the theory on one’s own mental considerations that’s what you get. But it doesn’t tell you what the point is!

The point is in every film, in every book, in every story that see’s you drift away with your minds in a dusky cloud, that we’re told over and over again by the elderly we don’t listen to because what the hell do they know!?

They know life’s too short… Buts we simply won’t listen and we’re consumed by it… We’re beaten by it… We’re sodden by it and it reeks of filth, distaste, disgust, disdain… It’s become the wretch before you vomit, the salt in your cheeks before your face hits the pan of life!

I used to believe a Soloist was me… I used to believe I was one of them but the jigsaw pieces never seem to fit, I found myself clawing at the edges, shuffling myself about hoping the world would level out and I’d be on a plain… But that’s not the case.

You must release the fear, the fear of loathing, the fear of resentment, the fear of fading in clear sight.

Stay true to your heart and the soul that beats within, with the chest that’s made it through until today, the heart that will get you through until the morning when the sun dawns and you’re shuddering and you’re out of breathe and you’re brow glistens from the frantic nature of your thought, then the curtains fall apart to see day…

The glow… The essence of nature… The essence of each and every one of us… We call this hope and it is with this hope that we stand firm, we drive forth and we wipe away the darkness with a fleeting blow, as we stride forth into the future…

Nothing that has been done or has passed can be undone…. But you can change your stars… You know who you are and I’m here with you in mind, we’re connected on a level deeper than any fictitious belief and we know that we can find it within us to seek out the life beyond the drivel of day to day…

Set aside the worry and the doubt, be yourself… There’s a Soloist in every one of us, but when the choir chirps up, you’ll know you’re not alone…