manic depression is always portrayed by a kinetic actor balancing energy and speed.
but there is another mood that is just as prevalent: the racing mind and quiet body. thinking done with teeth gritted, grinding and grinding.
at the height of my heights, i went on a walk where i was consumed by a tidal wave of spiritual insight, an almost audible opening sound, i felt like scatman caruthers shining.
i was 33. jesus’ age. feeling like everywhere i walked would one day be enshrined as a holy ground, a destination for my future pilgrims. thoughts were flying in so fast, they left a breeze. a single-minded focus on truth and existence, in the shadow of a certainty that was growing omnipresent. like lsd with your sanity still intact.
i was locked in the state of falling in love. a deep passionate romance, but not focused on a person. just pure love in the abstract, such that everywhere i turned there was a new rush of excitement, of clarity, of understanding, of communion.
a sad outcome of this experience is that years later it has left me with a sadness when i get those moments of humming awareness. if i get too happy, i might be getting sick. i was already a pessimist. it didn’t need reinforcement.
parts of the melody and the harmonic structure owe a debt to the suicide note section of “thanksgiving” (monday song # 29). seemed fitting as i saw sullivan’s son as mentally ill, with a manic flush when he wrote his last words. not sad, but enthusiastic about the dangerous next step. it’s a lowly thing to rip yourself off. but it’s a victimless crime.
scatman caruthers in his bed in florida receiving danny’s shining. but with a smile, and no elevator blood.