de-tension

Infuriating, this mixture of paralysis and overstimulation. Right now The Fall's Hex Enduction Hour plays on iTunes in front, to the right Dylan on DVD mutters out the TV, behind it's 1 Xtra on the digital radio, and writing this piece alternates with reading the Saturday paper and any other book or magazine to hand. It's kind of relevant, stick with it. Productivity jostles with laziness, which sometimes means not finishing projects, sometimes means not bothering with research and preparation that might make things easier, sometimes means working in frantic bursts, and sometimes means sitting around absolutely blank or indulging in self-flagellation for not doing anything. The common aspect in all this is too much fucking thought. Translating experience into thought, translating thought into language, translating language back into thought, trying to carry out tasks while carrying out a meta-commentary at the same time, and attempting to achieve revolutionary, visionary perfection throughout. All of which means the three sources of music serve two contradictory purposes. On the one hand they're designed to stimulate, to inspire as separate streams and in combination, to shed new light on whatever it is that's being done right now, to be unpredictable. On the other hand they're meant to cancel each other out, to become chaotic and act like a kind of insulation, in the midst of which writing can happen almost in a trance-like state. And possibly piss off the neighbours, but everything has it's cost.

This is where we were going to start, strategies that have been tried to relieve stress since coming back from Cardiff. No. More interestingly brand new ways of trying to simulate the effect of MDMA in it's absence. To achieve a physical and mental de-tensioning. Let's start with the most effective.

Physical sensitisation is an important part of the process, so [Dylan replaced by Pere Ubu's The Modern Dance - too much chat on 1 Xtra, may have to change channel] so, to mimic the effect of ultra-sensitivity there are stone and pine-cone. Actually there's only stone, pine-cone got left back in Cardiff, but there are other pine-cones here. Stone can be rolled in the hand or rubbed on the back of the hand, pine-cone was rolled on the forearms and chest, and of course the forearms can be rubbed gently with the fingertips. Especially when combined with deep-breathing it's remarkably calming.

Is anyone else getting a headache?

The three other most effective strategies are slowing-down, forgetting things, and carrying less:

Slowing-down is exactly what it sounds like - walking more slowly instead of trying to march the streets competitively and thread through tiny gaps.

Actually, there's a fourth one here, being less aggressive. Occupying the pavement less aggressively, not bothering with arguments or blame, ignoring people that wanna get in your face. Why react to someone shouting unintelligibly from a passing car?

Forgetting things means things like the time and your mobile phone. If you're walking or listening to music and you don't hear your phone or notice it vibrating then don't check it every 10/15 minutes, just leave it [1 Xtra changed to Radio 3].

Carrying less has a couple of elements, but they're kind of related. Fuck this, I need a shower, back later.

Do you play with your shower? You know, unhook the showerhead where it hangs and move it around to get close-in everywhere? Isn't it all a bit businesslike? Surely it's more fun to keep it hanging where it is, maybe adjust it a bit, and spend your time twisting about underneath? One of the mental debates while just showering was whether this writhing under a fixed head was a good thing or whether it was a perverse kind of English repression. The reason being the sensation of it is like being clothed in water, so maybe you feel a bit less naked. But no, not being afraid to flash a bit of cock, that clearly isn't the reason. The trouble with swinging your showerhead about is that bits of you get cold and you're essentially static. With the head fixed in place you get two pleasant sensations, warm water everywhere, and flexing, writhing about.

Anyway... shit this is boring, trekking through a sequence of ideas already sketched in rough and thought about before that. Carrying less. It's down to overpreparation. Trying to pre-empt anything that might happen, which means lading pockets and rucksack with reading matter, batteries, plastic bags, lighters, toothbrush, change, and fuck knows what else. So now it's phone, wallet, keys, notebook and pen unless there's a definite need for something else. Which means there's no need for the rucksack. Not only is it less to worry about but there's nothing hanging off your shoulders. For someone who's naturally physically tense, especially across the shoulders, the relief of not needing to carry something is immense.

Hell, we're almost at the end now. Slightly less effective than all of the above - less effective even than showering at the moment - is attempting to loosen muscles. Ok, to do it properly you should spend something like 20 minutes a day tensing and then relaxing all your limbs in turn, and that hasn't been tried yet. So far all the effort while lying in bed, walking to work or just sitting around is to try and let go of tension in hands arms and shoulders. It can work a little, but it's most effective at shutting up the wordless chittering in the brain that perpetually puts you on edge.

Oh, dancing. Dancing's good too - even the gentle flopping about to a combination of 16th century vocal music and Jarvis Cocker's solo record that's currently happening. The common thing is physical freedom, unselfconsciousness and not thinking.

And absolutely ineffective are any of the herbal relaxation pills available - there's a reason they're legal you know - they're no fucking good. St John's Wort, Passiflora, Valerian, absolute waste of time. Legal medication seems a bit of a dead end - unless synthetic oxytocin nasally administered is any cop, it might well replicate some of the effects of MDMA. Maybe it's worth talking to the GP?

Now fuck off, I'm dancing.

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