It's unlikely this entry will be of much interest to anyone. This is one I'm writing more as a personal journal than anything else. With 2022 now entirely in the rearview mirror, I find it was by far the most, let's say "episodic" year of my life. Not the most dramatic (though it was up there) and not the most damaging (that title goes to 2019), but the year that was the most clearly divided into neatly separate phases, each feeling like it was years long. Before 2022, my life basically consisted of three phases. The Police/security phase, the China phase, and the Ukraine phase. This year alone was divided into nine: before the war, during the war, the flight from war, the Poland phase, the London week, the Romania phase, the Schmallenberg phase, the Hellenthal phase, and the Texas phase.
Now, a frequent reader of my little corner of Peakd (and yes, there are a handful) will notice that I have made frequent musical references throughout this past year.
This is because in plain truth, there is nearly always a song in my earbuds. And more often than not, it is a specific song on repeat, related to the situation at the time. And let's be real: in a year as... well, "eventful" as this one, there is almost always a specific song that reflects the current crisis. And for some reason, it occurred to me that night back in Hellenthal, that I should post a blog entry at the end of the year about what song was in my earbuds at each point in the year, and why. So, as irrelevant as it may be, here it is.
January: Happy New Year, by Abba
Would you believe, I had actually never heard this song until this year, when it was played virtually everywhere in Ukraine? But in 2022, as I began the year with bittersweet memories, an angelic little Ukrainian beauty beside me, and little more to sustain me than hopes and dreams that the company I'd spent 2021 fighting to establish would finally succeed in 2022 (as it would have if the Russian barbarian horde had not rolled in and decimated the home where I'd built my life), this song, with its mixed message of post-celebration sadness and desperately-clung-to hopes, was my rallying cry. And God... if I had only known in January, the tears that would stain the floor hearing it in December, with a list in front of me of friends and neighbors killed by Russia...
"Seems to me now that the dreams we had before
are all dead; nothing more
than confetti on the floor.
It's the end of [an era]. In another ten year's time,
who can say what we'll find? What lies waiting down the line?
February: Leaving Caladan, from the "Dune" 2021 soundtrack
It was late February of this year when I learned what it was like to have the life you have built, taken from you along with the country in which you built it, by a rampaging horde of marauders who cannot remotely be classified as anything even vaguely resembling Human: Russia. Riding on one of Ukraine's loaded passenger trains, surrounded by refugees whose bleeding and sweat-soaked faces each told their own Homeric epic of loss and betrayal, looking out the window at the battered hellscape that had only a week ago been an idyllic countryside filled with hope, seeing the flashes of Russian artillery shells and missile strikes occasionally illuminating the night, hearing the cries of toddlers and elders who watched those flashes and wondered whose loved ones were now as dead as their own, while Hans Zimmer's percussive, discordant, tension-filled score filled my ears, swearing aloud "I shall return" while knowing in my heart that it wasn't true and there was, in fact, nothing to return to, just as the Atreides in this scene must have known as they fled their homeworld knowing that their own beloved emperor, their kinsman, had guaranteed they would not live to return...
...it remains -and likely will ever remain- the most haunting journey I have ever taken.
March: House Atreides, from the "Dune" 2021 Soundtrack
Like most of those who fled the Muscovite horde's rampage across Ukraine, I spent the early days of my arrival abroad sustained by hope that Ukraine would swiftly prevail, that God's universe did in fact contain enough justice that the hell-spawned legion vomited forth upon the Golden Land of the Cossacks would meet a sound and hasty defeat at the hands of a globally united Human Race who would have enough decency to recognize evil for what it is and stand shoulder-to-shoulder against it (and oh, did the race of Adam-of-Eden's lost and wayward children ever prove more clearly than they did this year, that my confidence in them was tragically misplaced?).
Those early days in Warsaw, seeing the entire city decked out in Ukrainian blue and gold in solidarity with the first nation since Tibet in the 1950's to endure a full-scale land/air/sea invasion by a world power with openly proclaimed genocidal intent, were the only time in my life when I felt like I understood what my grandparents have felt as the entire world geared up to confront Hitler and Hirohito, and the proud and defiant "liberty-or-death" tone at 5:12 (or 5:28 if you want to skip the intro) of this song embodied that spirit for me every day.
April: Time to Pretend, by MGMT
"I'm feelin' rough, I'm feelin' raw, I'm in the prime of my life.
Let's make some music, make some money, find some models for wives..."
...
..."We'll choke on our own vomit and that will be the end. We were fated to pretend."
The lyrics themselves don't have much to do with anything that was happening this year, if truth be known. This one got stuck in my head at first simply because my girlfriend and I were sitting in our apartment in Warsaw watching the movie 21, and this was in the opening credits with a peculiarly nostalgic riff which, coupled with the way the movie nostalgically reminded me of my days working in casino surveillance and the seemingly hopeless nature of my life this year, left me thinking back to bygone days and how much better things could have been if I'd taken a different road. The fact that the song is a fast-forward-montage through the live-fast-die-young life of millionaire celebrities at a time when I was just beginning to realize that the old "money isn't as important as job satisfaction" cliches were utter crap and I was broke (and for all practical purposes unemployed, homeless and State-less) made it inescapable.
After some time, the song's fatalistic ending to the otherwise glamorous-sounding life of wealth and grandeur, became the focus of what I don't think I'm overdramatizing by calling an existential crisis regarding the seeming futility of the Human condition, but that's another story. After a bit more time, this song on repeat became so synonymous with "I need to go for a walk to clear my head" that to this day whenever I hear it, I think of downtown Warsaw.
May: No Surrender, by Bruce Springsteen
"Now on the streets as the lights grow dim,
the [Musovite horde] is closin' in.
There's a war outside still ragin'.
They say it ain't ours anymore to win...
...
...But we made a promise we swore we'd always remember,
No retreat, baby. No surrender.
Like soldiers in the dead of night with a vow to defend,
No retreat, baby. No surrender."
I think this one is pretty straightforward.
The morale of everyone in Ukraine, or remotely associated with it, was running high this month thanks partly to the sinking of the Russian flagship Moskva the month before, and the Russian army's inglorious withdrawal after their defeat in Kyiv. And even though they were still hopelessly outgunned, the "fight to the bitter end" spirit among Ukraine's diaspora was palpable. We all (1) were united in the view that Ukraine would stand firm as long as there was one single Ukrainian left on Earth.
It was also this month when Slow-Joe shook off his No-Show Mojo and finally decided to actually DO something for Ukraine instead of empty speeches and toothless sanctions, and the impact of HIMARS on the war's trajectory was immediate, which gave the already-firm fighting spirit of the Ukrainians a steroid shot in the arm, as many a young Russian woman can now attest through the tears a not-thirty-yet widow sheds over her husband's ignominious unmarked grave.
June: The Last Cowboys, by The Anti-Nowhere League
"No more outlaws, no wild west,
No more warriors, no more blessed,
No more wild ones, no iron horse,
No more rebels, no more cause,
No more freedom fighters, no Bravados,
No more rogues or Desperados,
No more cowboys, no more rockin'...
Now you can all go fuckin' shoppin'!"
This was the last month when my mindset was forged more from the world's reaction to Russia's invasion (the reality that the West was filled with people who were mostly too chicken-shit to do anything about it other than talk), rather than by the need to adjust my own life and figure out what to do about it, how to move on.
After a quick week spent in London (it was rather a hasty and unplanned fleeing retreat but it ended up turning into a de-facto vacation), I was off to Romania. As my girlfriend (who had left Ukraine with me) and I parted ways at this point, I was alone, for the first time in quite some time, and that solitude tended to define my summer. Contributing further to this depressing state of mind was the fact that it was this month when the West's "we must stand with Ukraine" sentiment started wearing out, mostly because things started to get expensive and, well, we all know the soft-and-pampered West. The moment their creature-comforts are not readily and cheaply available in unlimited quantities, they'll throw their principles to the wind to get them back. From the Left this took the form of "the war has cost too many lives," and from the right it came in the form of the Kremlin-approved "Ukraine is corrupt and Russia is not attacking us" sentiment which sounds pretty fucking familiar.
Anyway, I spent most of the month listening to this "no-regrets-no-hesitation-no-retreat-no-hope-and-no-fucks-left-to-give" anthem on repeat, wondering if I should just hop a train back to Kharkiv, pick up a rifle, and die fighting. With my tutoring business drying up, and Western support for my Ukrainian friends and neighbors drying up with it, the notion of going out in a blaze of fury as a massive middle finger to the faltering West ("fuck you! At least I had the balls to die fighting. What the fuck have YOU done?!") seemed to grow every time I listened to the bridge.
If the truth is to be known, the question of "but who will fight for my son when the Chinese do to the Philippines what Russia is doing to Ukraine" is the only thing that stopped me from hopping a train to Kharkiv and doing exactly that.
July: Meravigliosa Creatura, by Gianna Panini
So, if I'm being honest with myself, there is nothing in this song's lyrics, other than maybe the "sei sola al mondo" part (2), that should have been in ANY way relevant to this month except that, well, I was living in Romania and it's the first song I heard in Romaña that stood out to me.
Maybe it was the upbeat, hopeful, 80-miles-an-hour-down-an-open-road-with-the-top-down feeling of the melody. Maybe it was the fact that it reminded me of the Stevie Nyx tunes I used to hear on my mom's car-speakers when I was still in a carseat (usually going 80 miles an hour down an open road with the windows rolled down because her little Honda Civic hatchback damned sure wasn't a convertible). Maybe it was the fact that the singer's soft alto voice (and the way she draws out consonants) reminded me of the songs my ex-girlfriend (the one mentioned above) would always sing while strumming her guitar late at night. I'm not sure.
But for whatever reason, this song became the go-to repeater in my headphones this month and even though that was one of the loneliest months of my life, whenever I hear this one I catch myself feeling a bit nostalgic for those days, which offered the first faint hints of hope of rebirth that the year ever offered.
August: My Hometown, by Charlie Robison
I'm not going to bother posting a snippit of the lyrics here because frankly, I'd need to post the whole song, but here's a link.
In short, it was the last days of July and the first days of August when I came to the twin realizations that 1) between the war and the loss of the Chinese market, my tutoring income was dropping fast enough that going back to the US was really the only option I had and 2) between the war and the loss of the Chinese market, my tutoring income was dropping fast enough that I didn't even have enough money to get there. Hence my only option was Germany's Ukraine refugee program until I could save for a plane ticket home (which took months).
...Yyyyyyeah... remember those "first faint hints of hope of rebirth" I mentioned above? They were gone like the singer's girl in a 1980's cryin'-in-your-beer Country-Western ballad. And in their place, the deepest depression I have ever sunk into in my life as I looked around at a Christ-forsaken hovel in a goat-farming town on the outskirts of no-God-damned-place-that-ever-mattered on the Belgian border and asking myself "really? I'm pushing 40, half my life is gone by and this is really where I'm at? This is all I have to show for myself?"
Walking through the mountains of Schmallenberg along the 4-miles-each-way road leading from the Red Cross shelter to the only functioning grocery store in the town, or trapsing through the woods of Hellenthal wishing to God that there was a grocery store as close as the one in Schmallenberg had been, with this song's recurring theme of failing and returning home to start again... and again... and again, made for a pretty depressing month.
...Well, several pretty depressing months actually.
September: Galveston, by Glen Campbell
This was the month I first managed to make a trip to Rotterdam, Netherlands, to visit the girl I mentioned in the January entry, so I was beginning to sloooowly grasp onto a few faint slivers of hope again. It was exhilarating to be in a modern, wealthy city again for one thing, and the fact that it was a seaside port... well, for me there has always been something about the water. Walking along the Nueve Maas river after midnight with this in my headphones after dropping her off, it was possible, for a few fleeting moments, to look upon the idea of returning to Texas with hope instead of despair. The song's tale of a soldier longing to return to his hometown by the waves and see his girl again seemed to take all the threads of my thinking at the time (excitement about seeing her again and planning our future, determination that somehow I'd make things work when I got to Texas because by-God-it's-Texas-dammit, longing to see the sea again, war-weariness) and braid them all into one, single, defiant, cattle-drive-trumpet-blasting, can't-be-kept-down hymn to the old-fashioned Texas spirit.
...Maybe I'm the only person alive who wouldn't find it a bit incongruous to draw mental connections between that idea and a Dutch city, but whatever. My life has been far from normal. Why should my thought processes be any different?
October: Downtown, by Petula Clark
When you're alone and life is making you lonely
You can always go, Downtown.
There isn't really a lot that was symbolic here. The song came on the radio in a cab in a Hellenthal (hey, don't ask me. Do I look like a German DJ?) and it sparked a memory of the movie I took I took the above-mentioned girl to on our first date (it was "Last Night in SoHo" which, incidentally, is a mind-fuck of a movie). So there was that, and there was the simple, somewhat juvenile, and completely irrational feeling that if I could just get out of Ye Olde Goat Farme and back to an actual city again (did I mention in last month's entry how Rotterdam reminded me of Shanghai?). All-in-all, I just found myself strolling along through Hellenthal's mud-covered and barely-driveable roads (if "roads" is really the word you want to use for them) with this one on repeat in my ears, no-doubt looking quite ridiculous as I occasionally spun around once or twice when the chorus kicked in...
...of course, always while planning my next visit to Rotterdam.
November: I'm on Fire, by Bruce Springsteen
Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull
And cut a six inch valley through the middle of my skull...
...
...Sometimes I wake up with the sheets soakin' wet,
And a freight train runnin' through the middle of my head,
only you can cool my desire.
O-o-oh I'm on fire."
To be honest I don't quite remember how I stumbled onto this one. I'd kinda-sorta heard it maybe once or twice before, but certainly didn't know it well enough to sing along. I think it probably came on in "The Corkonian" Irish Pub in Cologne during one of the nights I spent out drinking because I'd missed the last train back to Kall (or at least, the last one that would get me there in time to catch a bus to Hellenthal and then a taxibus from there to Udenbreth Unterdorf Station, which is what passed for "home" during those two and a half miserable months) and a night's bar tab was cheaper than a hotel room.
However it was, the burning, lonely, longing feeling of this song should be, by this point, a pretty obvious match for the way I was feeling during that seemingly hopeless summer when the only things left to cling to were the erstwhile goal of going back to the Us and taking a job I didn't even want (truck-driving) and the occasional jaunt off to Rotterdam again, where a city and a girl managed to take my mind briefly off of how horrid my life was.
But ironically, it never really became my go-to song until the last week or so in Hellenthal. Then of course, once I got back home and went to work with a pair of absolutely fanatical Springsteen fans, it wasn't long before it came on and my mind went back to the last night in Hellenthal. Somehow, this song became part of my "okay, the world-travelling days are behind you; Europe is behind you; you're in America now, so get used to it" adjustment. I really can't explain how, or why.
December: Carol of the Bells - Epic Version, arranged by Samuel Kim
So, fun fact: Carol of the Bells is actually a Ukrainian carol.
Which is kind of ironic, given the world's current situation. I mean, think about it. When you think of any video depicting how it feels when Christmas, which is supposed to be "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year," is spent under bombardment by artillery, tanks and fighter planes, what song are they usually using for background music? What other Christmas carol has the same "preparing for battle" feeling as Carol of the Bells? Trans-Siberian Orchestra used it to depict a Christmas Eve in Sarajevo during the Bosnian War. The movie "Home Alone" used a form of it when Kevin was getting ready for his showdown with Harry and Marv.
And when the Ukrainian Defense Force published a video reminding the world that while we were celebrating, they were still fighting for their lives (and for the lives of everyone else in civilization), and that in their homelands, the only gift Children had time to hope St. Nick would bring them was a break from constant shelling, it was Samuel Kim's gripping rendition of this old standard that they used. I don't have the video anymore, but it was actually an old drinking buddy of mine from back in Kharkiv (now the equivalent of an E-7 in Ukraine's Army due to battlefield promotions) who did the voice-over for it, a re-imagining of "The Night Before Christmas."
It's the night before Christmas,
And here on the line
Little Anja takes cover
as drone engines whine.
Away to her bunker
she flies like a flash,
and prays the orcs won't
turn her home into ash
...And so on until...
And in case I should fall
Before the end of this night,
Merry Christmas to all.
Now Stand up and fight!
...Yeah, Ukrainians are a lot of things but subtle is not one of them.
So Now, 2023
The year 2019 was a vision of Hell for me.
The year 2020 was a vision of Hell for the entire world.
The year 2021 was when I started to try and claw my way back up, but for most of the world it was 2020 mk II.
The year 2022 was defined by war, and famine.
...I really want to make some kind of stirring, determined proclamation about how 2023 will be the year things turn around but really, well...
...at this point I'm kind of afraid to Jinx it.
(1) Yes, I say "we," even without a drop of Ukrainian blood in my veins. It was my home, and though I only had this honor for a grand total of one skirmish lasting a grand total of 28 minutes, it is with pride that I say I fought for it against Putin's barbarian slaves.
(2) Translation: "You're alone in this world."