9:52-10:12
Letting coffee seep through a filter and make bubbling and whirring noises from the kitchen. Mornings like this... although "A person who has not done one half his day's work by ten o'clock, runs a chance of leaving the other half undone." (Emily Bronte). Mornings like this I feel sleep spun cobwebs between my ears and a faint echo to all sounds. My skull has been hollowed out like a pumpkin. I rub the dust out of the corners of my eyes. I have seen only a handful of sunrises in this desert. Sunsets tend to be generally more attractive and awe-inspiring. Mostly due to attitude. I'm not in the aggravating haze in the evening that I feel trapped in now. Activities are harder than they should be. It is laziness rather than fear. The morning hours should be there for hard work and accomplishment. It's like that saying about college in general. Work four years and party the rest of your life or party four years and work the rest of your life. It is about work ethic and time strangulation. It is about seeing spots and feeling awful vertigo when I move my head too quickly. It is about feeling numb about the emotions I so strongly grasped last night. The confusing and unsettling thoughts about future. "I'll die in Washington." An apartment in Seattle or Portland. Study abroad in London. If third option chosen, I must learn more about the American education system itself. Meta-analysis. Also, government and why my country is in the shitter. I would halfway become a representative of my country. An ambassador. The fourth option is to leave academia for awhile and to become a rock star. To tour the world with a band and a manager and an image to maintain. HBO specials and European tours and practice spaces in studios. Live in Los Angeles and become a professional musician. Or a puppet. A dog chasing a rabbit around a race track. Or a drunken god of a bass player. (pause here to acquire coffee.... 10:04) Some mutual affection would be ultimately ruined if I traveled the countryside or moved to England. Relationships would be destroyed completely. I feel it a trap. Los Angeles I may very well hate. What do I do? I feel I might become that passive and hateful creature again. The one who internalizes things and doesn't know how to speak for himself. The one with ups and downs like a rollercoaster. It is January. I could not make this music dream happen until May but the seed is planted. If I am truly 'and investment' then I could make it happen. Plane tickets bought or what. I need some angel to grace me with her presence and let me know it is all going to be okay. Convince me that it will. Then foretell my future if I choose one option or the other. Let me see a sped up video of my activities down a certain path. I of course can manipulate what actually happens given this opportunity so more than likely I would be shown a false chain of events. The sheer knowledge of future moments might destroy their innocence and in turn, their importance. But I can dream. At least, the devil, may send me some girl to comfort me. Some beautiful tragic genius. Let her guide me towards my goals then get out of my life. Let her illuminate with eyes of dark fire. Her skin aglow and blinding. Molecules jumping through the air at my periphery. All of my options and opportunities. My brain is scrambled eggs. I wish to be consoled for a night at least. And wake up feeling fine. Where can I find this wretch? This maneater? Does she exist in the desert or must I summon her from a northwestern graveyard?
----- 10:00pm ---------
I jam with them because I love music and it is healthy to be a part of trippy mathematical songs and rhythms. Dream like trances, a serious practice involves at least a six pack, a vodka drink with coffee syrup, whiskey and sprite and orange juice, and marijuana of course. I don't let myself go and I think too much. My dark comments are jokes though, and indications of my character. Those confused moments. Or my attempts at singing or screaming. Weak falsetto. My falsetto is not loud and my voice is strong but not in a healthy way. Someday I might take it as a point to increase the strength. As I write 20+ minutes a day now... I might make a regiment of singing exercises. Warm ups and scales and what not. Then cover songs or old personal songs. Have the voice I wish to hear. To express feelings through poetic turns of phrases. To be fully immersed in creative processes behind the music. The experiences. I am in it for the experience. The passing of ideas.
Let me introduce you to my ghost, its a pleasure. Your body would make a wonderful host. In good measure. We'll meet again somehow.
