Why I’m not writing

I can’t write something just because I need to write something. I have no emotional or memory-based message I want to get across right now, is the problem. I’m tired, the last few months have been exhausting, I’m still worried about my old, sick kitty, and I can’t go home for the holidays. I’m not that wild about any of these messages, and far from making me want to sit at the piano and communicate them, I just want to let them pass and not engrave them in the air. I want to write something that feels better. I just want this particular mood that I’ve been stuck in to go the hell away, not to wind up permanently embedded in Musescore. Even if I write the stupidest piece of music in the world right now — or the best — it’s just going to remind me of this crappy feeling and I won’t want to play it. Some musicians find it cleansing to do that. I’m not one of them.

Yes, I know that one will sometimes find a piece of music that encodes a negative emotion. I get that, but that’s rarely to never my favorite kind of music. I don’t feel like doing it, and I’m not interested in it. My mood lately has made me feel drained and numb about sitting at the piano. It isn’t making me want to seek the piano out. Moods like this make me want to do things that are purely utilitarian and have little to no inherent emotional value in them. Concrete constructive things, not abstract stuff that involves communicating an ambiguous message.

I don’t want to write any of this down and make it permanent. I want it to be transient. I want it to go away. I haven’t even been learning anyone else’s music — no Joplin, no Grieg even, no nothing. Anything I write now is going to have this rotten mood ground into it like mud into a white shag carpet. You never get the stain out, and it’s as good as ruined. I’m not grinding dirt into my piano. I’ll feel better at some point, and the piano will still be there.