I don't want to watch TV, put on a movie, I don't even want to read a book (which, for me, is so unusual as to be almost unheard of).
What I want - and what I'm doing - is listening to music. In the dark. Okay, not quite in the dark - I have one candle, just enough to be able to read the backs of CDs and decide what I want to play next. Jamie O'Neill, Patsy Cline, George Strait, Reba McIntyre. Aaron Neville. Lyle Lovett. Leonard Cohen. Johnny Cash. Zucchero. Bill Withers. Meat Loaf. I know, I know - a very odd combination.
This happens to me every so often, a slight tinge of melancholy. Not sadness, but melancholy. I have this feeling that the French have a better term for this though I can't remember what it is. Triste seems right - blue. There's no real reason for it - it was a gorgeous day today but it happens occasionally and I just go with it.
Enjoy it, really, because that's all you can do. Or at least that's all I can do. Wallow in it. There's something kind of satisfying about it, actually. Emptying out your mind, listening to music, wandering over to the window, looking out at the city lights, the night sky, listening to the water humming just below my hearing.
I wonder whether it's my creative side to turn itself on (or off). It never lasts long, but often enough that I know what to expect. And what to do.
Do you do this?