Grey couple of days. Cranky, uneasy, and suspicious. Of me. Of everything.
I don't think that this music I'm listening to is helping at all, because misery only loves company so much. Too much sensory is currently overloaded. Too much to consider and too fucking much to do.
Shit, that was a whine. Whining is not "pretty." Sorry.
While I was out looking for packing materials to mail prints to three different individuals, the sun went down today really quickly. At 1pm a dark cloud descended over Park Slope and it rained for about twenty minutes, just enough to make the streets clean again. I didn't get wet, but I kinda wish I had. Kinda wish I had.
Sometimes this city turns on you, just like any other place, I suppose, but when this one turns it's daunting. I don't mean Wall Street crash or terrorist attack, I just mean a nearly full moon, early sunset, a feeling in the air of uncertainty and a sense that you should stub that Camel Light out. A sense that you might not make it home, a sense of loss and longing, a sense of the opposite of optimism. Something to remind you of the mess we've made as a species, something to remind you of your own shortcomings and your fears. Something...but tangible.
Disconnected.
With every down turn there comes an upturn. I know. I've done everything today that I know how to do to start the upturn - talk to people who care about me, work on some amazing shots I did of Shakti, listen to music that is supposed to make me feel better, take a walk. Force myself to eat an exotic sandwich. Have some fantastic Argentinean Malbec. But some days...
I want to take photographs again, so I did. Here's a "fat neck" one, even though I am down to "Iggy fighting weight":
Even my boy Dulli is tired of me. Here's what he told me tonight:
"Come on, boy, don’t be such a baby
And maybe – I’ll bail you out
One more time
You got number nine starin' atcha
Get back, boy – or I’ll make you blind
You fucker
This here’s where we settle up
One last sweet drink from your cup
Hand it over, slowly
I’m gone
Come on boy, don’t be such a baby
And maybe – I’ll sell you out
One more time
You at the foot of the master
I’m faster –but I’m gonna take
My time
And I’m gonna make you blind..."
Please allow me to express myself here and bear with me. It's all I got. And I'll bear with you, I promise.
Maybe I should watch a couple of episodes of "Metalocalypse" and have a Camel Light...
Monday, February 18, 2008
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7 comments:
I like it when you write.
Self-trust is the first secret to success.
Author:Ralph Waldo Emerson
No Image. Just narrow box.
D.L. Wood
I agree with Meagan. I crashed early tonight because I fly out tomorow to Miami. I hate flying...it makes me uneasy.
As i read your post...I envisioned Eraser Head...you ...instead of Jack Nance (Henry Spencer). I am relaxed now....
Back to bed after I finish this Coke...Caffeine always helps me sleep.
bt
Yeah. I feel you.
and digging the goat.
dude, i haven't called you because all i got is whining right now. and i don't want you to hear it in my actual pathetic voice.
we don't come here just because we think your gonna have something cheery to say, we don't come here for fiction. We come here because at one time or another, heck even now, or not, we can sympathize and relate to your reality, even if it is in a bunch of songs/lyrics and pictures/ x- rays what ever..........just be you. muah
nice self portrait...
whine and wine all you need is cheese and cheese...
Damn... you look even hotter then usual for some reason!
I second Sarah...
and of course, the incredible Meagan. But... you already know she's right! :)
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