089. Sad Song Club too.
(poem)
I wasn't at all sure I was taking sad enough sad things to a night celebrating sadness. This poem, and its partner, Leisure Centre Suggestion Box Entry #16 are about loneliness, disconnect and feelings isolated in company. I think that's easily conflated with sadness. They both sit heavily on the centre mass. Chest and gut compressors, life constrictors, emotions that hold us down under weighted blankets. We are pinned beneath the heavy density of sadness and loneliness.
Not all painful feelings can also be bittersweet but you can allow yourself to bathe indulgently in both sadness and loneliness. The one is not the other though is it? I don’t think I’d invite either in and I don't often feel truly, genuinely sad but loneliness lands regularly and I don’t always mind. Still, I think it would be ok to be, less often, so lonely.
This poem, is probably called Get Well Soon or Platitude Problem. It’s about the limitations of small talk and a fumbled attempt at connection.
These are written to be read out loud by me. I think they’re better that way, or at least, I think they make more sense by my voice, in the Out Loud. I’ll put the words further down the page if reading is more your thing.
Thanks for listening. I do think it's probably better that way.
Here it is in letters and words you can check to see if they’re all there. They’re not. One thing I love about Spoken Word is that no two readings are the same.
Get Well Soon or Platitude Problem.
Throughout his monologue he’s been coughing and sniffing,
and I realise as he’s reached his conclusion
that I’ve missed a question
didn’t hear exactly what he was asking
but it seems obvious he wants something from me.
So I clear my throat, ready to take my turn and say…
“Maybe it's just the ubiquity
of all the colds and winter flus that's made the
constant wishing for better health
begin to feel
like another
in a long list
of meaningless platitudes.
Maybe it's just
worn thin from overuse
but ‘I hope you feel better soon’?
it’s just one of those things we say,
a stock phrase, isn't it,
to trot out these days when we discover a friend
or even a new acquaintance,
in this case, in our case,
is unwell.
It lives at the other end of the
I-Know-You-Exist spectrum
from ‘Happy Birthday’.
‘I hope you feel better soon’ always leaves me
feeling underwhelmed.
It’s as though expressing ourselves like this
suggests only cursory consideration
of the recipient’s current situation.
Do you get what I mean?
And of course I do hope you feel better soon,
I'm not a monster, but
my sincere aspirations
for your future improvement
don't convey my recognition
of your plight in the moment
and that seems equally, or more, important.
Especially with you having to be at work like this.
Might it be more completely expressed
as something like, ‘it would be better if you felt healthy now…’
with a sideways head tilt pause for emphasis before a follow-on clause of
‘...and I hope you correct to a healthy,
homeostatic equilibrium expeditiously.’
Y'know?
That seems better to me.
I could advise getting plenty of rest
and increasing fluid uptake
but I would worry that by this point I might be imposing.
Heck, look at the time, I should probably get going.
Yeah, I should probably get going.
But in fact, now that I think about it
you'll be abundantly aware
that full glowing health
would improve your status quo.
You don't need me saying so.
And ‘homeostatic balance’? That would be.. would that be a tautology?
D'you reckon? I'm thinking homeostasis is,
by definition,
a state of balance.
And I know what you’re thinking and yes, I agree,
I can hear eyes roll at ‘expeditiously’.
It's
entirely
unnecessary.
This is why people at parties move away from me.
I expect.”
The man interjects with another long sniff,
blows hard and pointedly into his hanky,
turns, looks back at me,
flummoxed from the driver's seat,
where he opens his mouth to repeat
the question with direct eye contact this time
and, really only barely muffled by the plastic barrier,
He asks in a flat, disinterested tone…
"Cash. Or. Card?".
I fumble out my preferred payment method wondering
how many viral transmission vectors we might eliminate,
if we withdrew cash altogether.
I draw in breath to raise the question,
it seems quite obviously relevant.
I want to know if he’s given this any consideration…
but he offers up the little white box
at the hole in his window and I tap
and I smile and with barely any hesitation
and only the merest hint of resignation I say…
"I hope you feel better soon"
…any life in his eyes has long died at this point
so when the machine's blue screen announces payment authorised, with him looking dumbfounded back at me,
I collect up my bag and I exit his taxi
Well. Thank you for reading. I feel a bit drained by that. It definitely is a sad poem if it leaves me feeling sad.
If this was your first time reading or listening (hear) here it's not always like this. Just the other day I wrote about whether or not I was wearing a hat and that wasn't sad at all. Pretty sure.
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Lambie.