today i returned to one of my longest running neglected lovers, after a 8 year long hiatus sprinkled with intermittent encounters that has left me depressed and longing and completely unable to let go. i needed the time away; my heart was broken by the rest of my circumstances, and things just sort of slowly faded away into nothing. i needed to leave the obsession and dependence of my early twenties behind me in order to be able to build a more healthy relationship that was not dependent on what others thought, on money, on self-righteousness, on expectation. my poor soul, how lost i was without you, but you were there sitting under my chair for months on end waiting for me to get over the heartbreak that i held onto like a badge, of proof of another distant life i used to lead. i am tired of talking about it. i keep my music degree tucked away in my filing cabinet.
i acquired my flute, an old powell circa 1950 back in 1992. i had no idea what “an original powell with a three digit serial number” meant when i was trying instruments from my flute broker on the search for an instrument that was better suited to the demands of a college level music student on into my professional beginnings, but a little voice in my head said one thing when i heard it, “mine.” and when i first held it in my hands; before i blew my first note, i felt it, “mine.” it felt like mine. i can’t say that about too many things, and it is really strange to say about an inanimate object. it is a difficult quirky instrument that requires some coaxing to get it to play in tune, but has a most gorgeous velvety meaty tone when i play it. i was never for the light and airy pretty sound of some, i prefer a darker grungier sound with many nuances to be discovered as i evolved as a player. i certainly have my own sound, and this is my voice. i am not a singer.
the damage wasn’t too bad. i still have a good lung capacity and breath control. the bad news is that my tone isn’t what is once was, and my fingers are very clunky. it will take at least a year to get back to where i was, and the longer i wait, the longer it will take to regain proficiency. i want to say this time will be different. i am stubborn in my self-deprivation. i don’t do the things i need to do in order to feed myself in stubborn defiance, and a refusal to take care of myself. that should be someone else’s responsibility. except that it isn’t. i am completely on my own, and everything is up to me. i know it sounds silly, and i could know it intellectually, but what good is the knowledge when i kept hedging my bets, secretly wishing for someone else to drag me there kicking and screaming. i just didn’t have the wherewithall to do it myself. and now there is really no other option.