Smoking cheap cigarettes in the rain…

Walking in the cold without a proper coat, collar up against the wind…

Listening to a train pass through town, one whistle short of knotting a red bandana to an elm branch and heading to Bangor. Leave the bills, the mortgage, and the post to those that actually like them…

Melancholy isn’t depressed… in fact melancholy is the brief moment after joy decides to go on sabbatical. That moment when your happiness has somehow flittered away like a little boy’s quarter down the sewer drain… He knows there will be other quarters but that one won’t ever come back. Melancholy has pain… but it has hope.

Melancholy is hearing someone’s voice and then realizing it’s a digital imposter asking you to leave a number they already have.

I think if melancholy had a taste it would be scrambled egg sandwich on rye with just enough pepper to taste without being interesting. Oh and a beer… Melancholy always has beer.

Most people don’t deal with melancholy well… you can’t push it out or wish it away. Its there to be felt… maybe even enjoyed, but certainly experienced because if you don’t it will still be there in the morning.

At some point you realize that all you can do is light a cigarette in the dark and let brother Miles soothe it away.

This is repost from several years ago.