RIP iPoddie, and Funeral Blues

I’m not one to name my gear, normally.  My truck is simply my truck; my guitar is called my guitar; my cell phone is just my cell phone; my bowling ball is, well, I don’t have a bowling ball, but you get the idea.

But I had a special relationship with my ipod.  4th generation click wheel, backlight set so its glow would allow me to slip from the recently-flipped lightswitch to the warm covers of the bed, custom bubble wrap/duct tape case made with tender loving care–and I’m not a crafty guy.

You were my running partner, the voice of encouragement via Tony Robins podcasts, my companion on those long bus trips to away JV baseball games, my monochromatic Mr. Miyagi, the background music to all the raves I meant to throw…

Moving forward will be difficult.  The days are somewhat quieter now.  What would you say to me to get me through the pain?

I feel a little like the guy from 4 Weddings and a Funeral, who quoted WH Auden’s Funeral Blues:

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Beautiful, evocative words.  Heart-rending sentiment.  Abandon.  Loss, utter loss.  Not a dry eye in the place.

I guess I don’t feel that bad.  But I do miss my ipod.