Pleasure Pressure or The Colour of Cheese

Suggested soundtrack:



Desperate to follow my life’s motto of ‘better do anything than nothing‘ I ended up at possibly one of the mediocre-strange of art-music-gadgets show I’ve seen in quite a while. Kandinsky, nazis and model trains in a wild concoction set in lighting and to a narrative that did not quite make sense, but was not nearly incomprehensible enough to be artsy, simply landing somewhere between I’m-falling-asleep-poetry and poorly-informed-news-report.

Yet somewhat exhausted from a week of working, stressing out, and an ever emptying cheese plate. I’m tired, almost to the point of sadness. Naturally, I’m glad not to have missed it, the alternative would have been doing my standard insomnia procedure where I half disengaged roam the refrigerator. A pathetic Friday evening in other words.

On my way home, street music greats me and I decide that I ought to listen for a second and getting my phone I sketch the post you’re currently reading.

Music-wise I’m greeted by a complete massacre of perhaps the only Coldplay song that still really does it for me. Despite a singer who sounds as though as he is sick in influenza, a sound systems that must have taken a shower, and drunk average-Janes and -Joes making out all around me, I can’t help but sing along. Raptured. Betraying my senses and better judgment, wishing I too was in the arms of someone broadcasting love to a surrounding that could not care less.

For a few years I have been doing my best to stay optimistic and take the opportunities that presents itself to me, knowing that any moment not ‘could be’ but ‘should be’ my last, if I don’t do my best to fill these moments with potential for happiness, growth and life lessons. It is a somehow purposeful, somewhat painful, sometimes pointless pleasure pressure I put myself under. But what is life if not ‘doing’ and ‘feeling’?

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