Music soothes, as well as the savage beast.

I suppose this is a pretty personal post.

You may be interested, you may not.

As few years ago, not as in once upon years ago, but recently a few years ago, I had a breakdown.

Not a very nice one. One I’d never wish any would have to go through, but it happens, it’s life, and sometimes, some of us just snap.

That’s what I did.

I snapped.

At the time I was working every single waking hour of the day, I wasn’t being the best dad, I wasn’t being the best husband or friend and I definitely wasn’t being the best person I could be.

So I snapped.

I didn’t realise till after it had happened.

But that’s life, there was nothing I could do to stop that.

As a man, you are taught, well I was, from a very early age, never to show feelings or emotions.

Fuck me, what a load of utter bollcks.

All I did was cry, tremble, shake.

My body and mind were literally snapping, crashing and tumbling inwards.

I’ve tried to talk about this a few times with my dad, but he manages to avoid the subject and change it quickly. It think he’s embarrassed his eldest son is a whack a doodle!

I found being mentally unstable a chore, a hazard, but also an eye opener.

A few things helped.

But none other than music, and Bruce.

Music can wait a second.

Bruce has always been a lifesaver, even more so these past few years and especially the last 8 months, well for me at least.

I’ve read alot lately that animals, cats, dogs etc are very therapeutic for numerous reasons.

We have a cat, he’s a wanker.

But Bruce.

Well fuck me sideways with a fork.

Bruce is literally a god like idol in my head.

I’ve written a post about animals before, the death of my own furry super hero and about Bruce.

Bruce just knows.

I feel an obligation to Bruce as well.

He is my dog after all, but after all, I am his human.

There’s a book, ‘The art of racing in the rain’, by Garth Stein, and Bruce always reminds me of it.

They are just releasing a film based on the book. Read the book first.

In the book, it details the life of the the main charachters dog, and how he copes with growing older and also with his humans lives and emotions.

Since having a breakdown, I’ve wished for nothing more than to be able to tell Bruce, and for him to understand me, that he has saved me on more than one occasion.

That if I’m honest, truly honest, I love him dearly, more than anything in the world and I owe him, oh I owe him big time.

So that’s the savage beast. My Bruce.

But music.

Shit.

Everyone loves music.

If you don’t, you have no soul.

Now, don’t get me wrong, some music is utter shite. But some…..well, what can I say.

A few years back I had a story published.

My favourite musical idol was fast approaching 60.

He releases music in many forms.
The band he is in, with his brother, with his wife, with his family and solo.

His fan club, which yes I am a part of, were asking for how his music, in any form, has had an influence on your live, or those around you.

A few people in the fan club own a publishing company, so had decided to ask everyone for a story and they would get published in a book, which would be presented to him in his 60th birthday.

After covering the cost of producing etc, all other monies which would be profits from the sales on the book, would go to his favourite charity, as a sign of respect and good fortune.

They were letting everyone take part.

But there was a catch.

They were only going to pick so many.

I am no writer.

I am utter shit with words. I cannot express myself well enough in written form.

So I thought fuck it.

I’ll give it a go, what to loose.

My story was about how Magoo got his name.

His real name.

So off went a draft and a few pictures which helped explain things a little better.

Nothing.

Not a sausage.

It was worth a go.

Then I had an email saying that my story, about Magoo had touched a few peoples hearts and they would love to publish it in the book!

Now. The book.

I own 3 copies.

One for myself.

One that we keep on the book case with our library of crime novels and other books, and one is kept wrapped up, hidden away for Magoo when he’s older.

It has sold hundreds of copies….made tonnes of money, but more importantly, been presented to someone who I admire, respect and owe a great deal to, on his 60th birthday.

But I’m waffling.

Music, it really can heal you.

I’ve listened to music ever since I can remember, and more so during those teenage years.

My musical taste has shifted slightly, but not by much.

I’ve noticed recently that my musical taste has calmed down a little. I’m stuck in my ways with what I like and what I don’t.

Spotify, Google music, whatever you can stream on, has become a massive help and healer.

I’ve found bands, artists and songs, that I’d long forgotten about, or had bootleg CDs of as a teenager.

It helps.

It has a calming effect, even if it’s hyped up 70’s punk, played at full volume while doing the ironing.

I’ll listen to music while in the shower, my singing is shit.

Music, well it just helps.

Everyone is different, and they find there own coping mechanisms.

Mine just happen to be Bruce and music.

I wonder what music Bruce likes!?

Magoo loves music.

He really does.

I’m glad, as I’m sure when he gets older it will help him too!

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