Thank God for jazz!

Oh my gosh, life wouldn't be worth living if it wasn't for jazz. Jazz is like a giant plaster on ones emotional wounds. Soothing ones soul, elevating one from deepest darkest hell to a heaven made of white fluffy clouds. Sleep... Zzzzzz....

I was waiting for the train early this morning and I really wish I would've brought my camera. It was absolutely beautiful. I'm always singing "She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes" in my head as I'm waiting for the train at that station. The view of the tracks disappearing round the well... it's not a mountain, but it's sort of cliffy, I guess, just makes me think of that song. This morning the view was perfected by rays of sunlight, glistering snow and that early morning air of hopes and promises. I wanted to take a photo of it, but obviously I'd left my camera at home, because I'm not the kind of person who brings a camera around with me all the time. So instead I ate an apple, biting off the bits I didn't like and spitting them out on the tracks. Why that seemed appropriate compared to spitting them out in the trashcan, I'm not sure. For a while I was standing there at the station, alone but for the company of the distant churchbells and a crow that flew up on a lamppost and sat down, looking at me, probably wondering when I'd step away from the apple long enough for him to start eating it. As other people walked on to the platform I finished my apple, all of it, and just stood there, waiting, gazing at the sun.

When I got home I got a message to phone my mother. Worried that something might have happened, I phoned her right away, even though I had planned to make dinner. She answered the phone with a high-pitched "hallo", making me more worried than before as she's normally introducing herself, even though she knows it's me phoning. Feeling increasingly sick, I asked what the fuck was up. She gave me the old "oh, do I need a reason to want to talk to you"-routine, and then spent the next half hour talking about Friends of the Family who are selling their house. I was listening impatiently, occasionally uttering mutterings from the "uhu"-category. She was talking twice her normal speed, obviously trying to squeeze in as much conversation as possible in the least possible amount of time. In the end I finished the conversation, feeling quite guilty that I didn't sound more interested. It's just that what with my recent gloomy outlook on life I've not been quite able to fall into my normal chat-mode when people want to talk. I exhausted all my resources of politeness during a 20-minute trainjourney with an old class-mate I've not seen for four years.

So anyway. Thank God for jazz.