On Looking Away

In a bout of good taste and romantic idiocy, I bought Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs last month. I really like it, and throughout recent weeks I've been trying desperately to relate to it. Here's an example of what I mean: Start this song, which is the first on the album. The first split second you hear a single word, stop it.

That is the amount of that album I should be allowed to listen to. That is the amount I should even be able to fantasize being able to understand. No Bell Bottom Blues, no jealousy, no sense of loss. I'm Not Anyone's. When I do let these false sentiments stew, they boil up beyond any reasonable expectations; they lose focus. They do more than Keep On Growing, they grow without sunlight or water (maybe some dirt) into something unrecognizable and false.

I take steps back regularly to assess the great divide between how I'm feeling and what any reasonable person would be thinking. I just don't know what the difference between petty fantastical infatuation and genuine affection is. Worse: maybe I do, but I'm scared to say so.

I know I'm just an introspective snubby fellow who didn't pick up on cues then and shouldn't extrapolate now, but it's really, really frustrating when the few people I actually feel drawn to are just so unreceptive. At this point, I feel like asking is a waste of time, but it feels defeatist to just back away now.

Okay, you can finish the song, if you liked it. Or read this, since I put a lot of effort into it.