lullabies to paralyse

i think i may have had an epiphany.

or perhaps i'm just high on red wine and bath fumes.

whatevs, just humour me for a minute, will you?

ta. you're too, too kind.

so i was lying in bed just now, drifting off, images of joaquin phoenix caressing my thoughts and tickling my thighs, listening to the cowboy junkies as i have done almost every night for many, many years now.

and just as i was about to cross over into sleepytown, my brain shouted this at me:

"OHMIGAWD! IT'S THE COWBOY JUNKIES! IT'S THEIR FRICKING FAULT YOU'RE SUCH A MESS! THOSE SWEET, HAUNTING BALLADS HAVE REALLY FUCKED YOUR SHIT UP GOOD!"

?!?

could it be true? could my lullaby music be the secret to my sadness?

i know of course that i can't blame this most wonderful of bands for all my problems, being that i was well fucked up before i owned a copy of 'the trinity sessions'. and i'm almost certain the cowboy junkies didn't kill my parents.

but surely falling asleep night after night listening to songs such as 'i'm so lonesome i could cry', 'i don't get it' and 'to love is to bury' must have certain adverse affects on one's soul.

WHY DID I NOT REALISE THIS BEFORE? AM I REALLY THAT DAFT? WHAT ELSE AM I MISSING?

the problem is however, that even though i've had this grand epiphany, and i realise that i should probably seek out some less depressing sleepytime tunes, i don't think i can fall asleep without hearing the beautiful songs of loss and sorrow i've come to depend on to sing my into slumber.

and what use is an epiphany if you can't act on it accordingly?

i'm all conflicted.

please advise.