Stop.

I think I need to stop ALL this right now and just like, read a book or something, tonight. I think you should ALL do the same.

Dura

Ya dura

because i want to cry, and i dont know why. i dont have any money, which stresses me out immensely. mostly i want to cry because i want to cry.

i was happy. 2 weeks ago. the day after my friend got here. that saturday. we slept late, woke up, laid around, smoked, talked, got dressed, did our nails, drank some wine, listened to my record, and to Transference... she talked about her school... i talked about my music... c booked a great show... i got all these crazy amazing comments from fans, and she was here, and we were dancing, and she laid back on my bed, and she said, I feel happy now. I don't think I've felt happy, in years.

And I was dancing to Transference and I said, I do too...

And she said, You do?

And I said, Yeah, I do. It's surreal.

And then we went into the night, dressed up, traipsing down the alleys to her rented convertible, and the moon was full. We realized we were broker than we've ever been, but we were like a million bucks... we blasted the music... we looked at each other... she said, Remember this moment. Remember this is what it's about. Walking to my retarded little car.

And we drove to the restaurant. And the streets were glowing.

Well it's nothing terribly interesting but I've watched a whole season of Project Runway online in the past week... And I just got out of bed today. I'm beat.

I called the Health Insurance.

I called the Residuals Dept.

I know it's after 5 on Friday and they probably wouldn't be open but that's when I remembered to do it and at least I left a message and got the ball rolling.

Fack.

Over myself and vagueries.

Oh man... Thanks for the comments guys and the inspiration and the fact that I realize I really need, I really miss this, and I really miss you!!!

It's been hard, with this blog, writing anything clear, anything direct, anything true, because, well it's public. I know people read it. I don't know who, or how often, or when, but there's always a chance, that, for example..

That last post, I didn't write it as a plea or a statement to my friend. I highly doubt she'll read it. I guess it's okay if she does. But... meh... nah. No good. That wasn't the point.

I've been writing rarely.

I've been writing in code.

I really have been busy doing all this stuff, and that's part of it. But you know what. F it. I'm gonna write what I want on here. What's the goddamn point otherwise?

Now that I'm writing... though of course, I don't have time. And I have to get ready. But maybe this is more important right now.

I get tired of incessant joking. I love jokes. I love to laugh. My favorite people are hilarious, and only my favorite people find me funny too. But constant injokes and jokes and rejokes and metajokes seem like a cop-out sometimes. We don't always have to joke. We don't always need and icebreaker.

There is no ice.

It's warm in here right now.

Can't we touch instead of breaking.

Personality

Thanks for the comments guys :-)
Yes... These posts... the raison d'etre of blogs or logs or whatnot, to really sit back and process and express... I dunno... haven't done that in a long time... it feels good... and you're right, it does make for better reading...

And writing in the morning. Something about that.

Now, off to play another gig.

XO

Blink.

What a strange day it was.

Now it's morning. I haven't been able to sleep, so, I figure, I'll just stay up and get started on the requisite major cleaning, since I'd have to be up in a couple anyway, to go to the airport, to follow my best friend as she returns her car, after this intense wonderful 2 week visit, and then go wait by the airport for 3 hours, until her flight, and then come back... I've been really beginning to get socially exhausted, needing my alone time, it's been great, but I've felt very sad and antsy at points because I haven't been alone and-- I need to be alone, and-- she does give her share of digs... picks at me...

Sigh. I'm just drained and feeling pulled from all directions constantly, but, really I just wish, she'd give me some fucking credit. And say once, Hey, I trust your judgment. Hey. You're there for me any hour of night and day, you invite me here no matter what's going on, you've never held a grudge, even though I've tried to make you-- and furthermore, since I met you, when you were 19 years old, you have grown, incredibly wise, and calm, practical, and kind, and yet still passionate, and fuck's sake, you have manifested everything and more than you've wanted... and deal with life with a fucking grace that I admire.

I wish she'd say that. Yeah. I just wish she'd say that.

She doesn't have to. She says how much she loves me. That I'm her only friend. I know she respects me and my talent and my opinion and that we are on a very special wavelength. So it's fine. But she's just never willing to say, I don't know. She always has to throw in a doubt or a criticism, somehow try to make me wrong or the bad guy... Tell me I'm this or that, or whatever. I've gotten better at dealing with this. I just shrug and throw a look, walk out of the room for a sec, come back and say, Hey where's your camera I wanna show you this reverse trick.

Fire's out.

Ahhh. She's a seer she sees things she sees the bigger picture. But she is still trapped a bit, emotionally, personally, by things like guilt- guilt mostly. Maybe regret sometimes. Yes. Fuck those things. I don't understand them.

She sees the bigger picture. But I see... I don't see a picture... I don't see any frame... I see no frames and frames everywhere... I see multiple dimensions and yet essence. Essence. One dimension. I see that everything is the same, really. And everything is different. I don't know. I feel in string theory... Mathematics and magic and music and endless shades of gray and yet BLACK and WHITE sometimes. Clear cut. So subjective. So circumstantial. I have a code I live by. I am open to changing every day. I flood you with positivity. You make fun of it. I'm not hokey. But you make fun. But you leave here, glowing.

It's fine.

I love you.

There is someone in my life whom I love who respects and appreciates these things unabashedly. I thank God for this person.



So she is reading a book called Blink.

Malcom Gladwell corporate pop psychology shit.

I didn't say that, obviously, when she told me the book.

Blink.

You know within 5 seconds. Like I said-- everybody senses, people are like animals, it's an instinct, the power of the other. Well I don't know if Gladwell says anything like that.. hahaha.. maybe a stretch. But. I have. Always, within 5 seconds, of course...

Pop psychology irritates. It has nothing to do with psychotherapy. A real conversation with a person who... takes your worldview, smacks you upside the head with it, and makes you think... you think because you care... about this other human...

Two people in my life have taken my worldview and smacked upside the head with it. Philosophers. I don't see either one of them much anymore.

cloVer.

I know nobody's reading this
let alone gonna come see
But wish me luck hey
Really need it this time this time
God knows I do