I don’t follow the advice I give. I prefer the company of my own pain, my own bullshit. In a perverse way it makes bad days palatable. In my head the following thoughts run amok. I was alone on the worse of days, fuck you. I don’t need anyone….so fuck all of you!
Just who the hell am I swearing at? Seriously. Am I losing my mind? Of course yes, each and every day since I landed on this rock of a planet. Gods, my daughter is right. I have serious trust issues. I am swearing at ghosts lately.
Extraordinary circumstances or people. That’s what it takes for me to feel free enough to air thoughts I have not investigated ahead of time. Thoughts that have not been anchored on paper or in music.
Perhaps that’s not as bad thing. It makes experiences like Afrika Burn and Summer Camp more extraordinary. It’s the same as falling in love or mind blowing sex, in fact. All my thoughts are rattled loose and Music streams out of me. Life streams out…
Seriously, what’s this thing about us humans eh? We swear no one understands or could possibly fathom what we feel when fragility creeps up. What utter bullshit. The human experience is such a universal one. It’s not like I am part of the Starship Enterprise where I have to keep a tab on all the different species, their beliefs and cultural norms! Shake your head the wrong way and we could be on the brink of an intergalactic war! Captains Logg, supplemental. I always wondered just what the hell he mean by that term supplemental. I won’t look it up. What can I say, I enjoy mystery.
Fuckit. It is what it is. Some days are just tricky. And on such said days the only rule that has to be adhered to is Rule 1265 – Though shalt not listen to Ben Harper’s music or drink whiskey. What irresponsible thing have I done when those two were side by side? Let’s think. Fuck. I wrote the song In My Lover’s Bed.
Whiskey tastes better when one is in a great mood. And Ben’s music saved my life once, and still does. Maybe thay should go into the Captains logg. Supplemental.
Time for coffee and the sun. Everything passes. And I have things to do. Music to write. People to annoy and my daughter to….annoy the hell out of. It’s about the small things.