I'm cooking tea and I'm a man. There are lots of levels. Turn them up, turn them down.
There is music, a good track, turn it up then an advert so turn it down.
Pour the rice in, turn it up, starting to boil over, turn it down. Throw the ginger and chilli and stuff into the oil, it sizzles, turn it down.
The telephone rings, one of the favourite daughters, they all are. She's walking through wet and noisy city streets on her way home from the tube. I can hardly hear, she sounds beautiful, turn it up and turn the music down.
I'm always pleased to talk, especially since their mother died. I'm not irritated, I'm smiling, turn it up, turn it down. Listen, listen, turn it down. Maybe five minutes and she's home, bye bye, turn it up.
Music up, gas up, start sizzling again, oyster sauce and kale. Eat, just eat, turn it down, but the music is so good. Where will the evening end, turn it up or turn it down? Did I eat? I want to go out.
I have pills, one to turn it up, one to turn it down.
I have a shed full of tools to make adjustments, gizmos to tighten up and loosen off, and libraries, yes a lifetime of learning. I have the great outdoors to climb up and slide down, to sweat and to chill, turn it up and turn it down.
I'll rest, honest I will. I won't go too far again, I'll turn it down, really I will... before it runs me down.
And I have Moodscope, the feeler gauge. What will my score be in the morning? In a week, in a month? Quiet, listen.
A Moodscope member
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