C'est n'est pas une blog

juust don't know what to do...

Pacing in my cage, as they say.  I have no idea what to do.  I've tried to give what it seemed she was asking for, but that seems to not be the ticket.  What do you do then...just guess at what you are supposed to be doing, I guess.  I keep trying to figure out what I am supposed to be giving, but none of it seems to be enough.  At this point I am guessing that the best solution for me is to have a few more shots of tequila, a few sleeping pills, and wake up to another day.  That sounds like a dream for tonight.

A dream, a dream...let's hope we can fall asleep and still wake up in the morning...

Music for a sunday morning...

It seems as though this will be a musical day.  I woke up this morning with a song in my head, and proceeded to turn it on the stereo (is that the proper expression these days?) at an extreme volume and listened to it over and over for the next hour, while shaving, showering, and ironing a shirt.  (fn. I guess that is a sign of a pretty good day when I begin by shaving, showering, and ironing a shirt - especially when it is a weekend day.)

The song was, strangely, "What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" by REM.  Off of Monster (not one of my favorite albums, generally), I had always liked this song.  I had never bothered to look up they lyrics.  REM (at least in the early days) was notorious for never including lyrics sheets with the albums (albums?  like I said, in the early days).  (I seem to be full of parenthetical statements today)  When you couple this with Michael Stipes' lyrical delivery (fn. Which reminds me of an old joke.  Have you heard the new beer commercial by REM?  It goes "Mumble, mumble, mumble, Bud.") it seemed pointless to look up the lyrics online, as they would only be a guess at what the actual words were.  Often, listening to an REM song seems to be like looking at an abstract painting or an ink blot - at least half of it seems to be what you came up with yourself.

But, this morning I felt the need to see if there was actually a lyric sheet, or at least see how my guess compared with everyone else's.  I was surprised to find that there actually was an official lyric sheet out there.  I taped it up to the mirror in the bathroom, so I could read along while shaving.  I was surprised to find that I was actually pretty close.  My favorite two phrases?  "Withdrawal in disgust is not the same as apathy" and  "You said that irony was the shackles of youth."  After that, I spent the morning listening to a some more REM that I usually don't listen to (the rest of Monster and Green).  Later, I switch to a perennial favorite, John Wesley Harding.

Another song that I usually don't listen to...or at least closely to.  JWH's "You So & So."  It's a soft quite one, gentle and enveloping.  It made me feel as though I was laying in bed, warm and slightly sleepy.  Probably shouldn't listen to it while driving.  Favorite bit?  "Then I'll dream that I am with you, Oh to hide inside your hair, I'll be so quiet that, You won't know I'm there.  Visit me tonight, Come like dust under the door, Here's a key, And you know what it's for."


  

fade out dream sequence...return to the flatland

Well, let's cut that one.  Dream sequences rarely work, and from what I remember this one was no exception.  To rephrase an old expression, I put that one up there as a trial balloon, and it floated like a lead zeppelin.

The only good part was that her reaction was so immediate... a horrified "what?" ...that I didn't tell her about the house I had found, with a huge garden and a detached practice space/studio for her.  I would have really felt like a fool then.  At least only I know what an idiot I was.

Blah, blah, blah.  It's best not to try to live in dreams anyway.  When you try to live in dreams, you end up chasing your tail (or in my preferred expression, you end up looking like a man chasing his own hat, a fool), and you fail to live the life that you actually have.  You fail to even see it.  Forget your dreams, forget your illusions, forget your desires. 

I've put the teapot away - today is a day for coffee, steaming cup after steaming cup.  Maybe that will move me out of this dull, flat space I seem to have moved into this morning.  Most importantly, I've learned to keep my mouth shut.  I guess I should say re-learned - it was my old habit, but recently I dropped my guard.  Bad idea.  I should go back now...really, I should have just stayed in my hole the whole time.  Emotional Kansas. 

Anyway, enough of that.  On to something a bit more, shall we say, uplifting.  As kismet would have it, I just got a call from some old friends passing through town.   They're on their way over and we're planning a bite to eat and some morning cocktails.  Just what the doctor ordered, so I guess I should finish this pot of coffee and select a playlist for the inevitable chaos that will ensue.

First up?  Well, just for me before company arrives.  What else - Smashing Pumkins - Zero.  I've already spoken about this one numerous times, so there's no need to go on endlessly.  I feel like the original zero, nothing yet everything at the same time.  If you get it, congratulations.  If you don't, just keep listening and it will come to you eventually.  Zenith and nadir simultaneously?   Of course...a zero is a circle after all, you tell me where it begins and ends.

Next?  Well, time for one more before company arrives.  What goes better with a warm up shot of tequila and a Guinness?  The Sex Pistols of course.  Pretty Vacant seems to fit the bill, and it's all pretty much summed up here - " There's no point in asking you'll get no reply, Oh just remember I don't decide, I got no reason it's too all much, You'll always find me out to lunch."  Guess that means it's time for lunch.  Definitely time for lunch - tequila on top of a stomach full of coffee does not sit well.

Beck - Beercan.  Not just because I'm sitting here staring at a beer can.  I just love this song.  "Alcohol on my hands, I got plans to ditch myself and get outside."

The Clash - Lose this Skin.  Not a usual pick of mine, but it popped up today and felt right.  Lots of fiddle, and a strangely Irish feel for such an English band, but there it is.  "Come with me, I thought he said, But that's not him anymore, he's dead, What's it like to be so free, So free it looks like lost to me."

David Bowie - Be My Wife.  This one was going through my mind continually last night, so I guess it was inevitable I would actually play it today.  From the often overlooked Low album, there are only a few actual lines to the song, so no need to quote it here...if anyone out there is actually even remotely interested, they can listen to it...it takes less than 3 minutes.

I guess I should be entertaining now.  Or as my friends seem to feel lately, I'll be entertaining after a few more drinks.  I better get to work.  See you later.

remembering dreams...

I've been having this dream, bits of it.  I'm living in a house, with her.  I can't tell you much about the house...I remember it has large walls painted a flat white.  The house is always warm, although I think that may be more due to her rather than the house.  There's a large smooth stone fireplace in the living room, set into the white wall.  Some nights we're on the floor in front of the fireplace, talking, laughing, working on a crossword, brushing up against each other. Other nights, we're curled up together on a chaise, a green chaise, with a white blanket over us. Different things, but the feeling is always the same there - warmth, a soft touch, an overpowering feeling of love.  Sometimes the kids are there, sometimes they aren't, much like real life.  In my dream, though, she is always there.   

I couldn't tell you what the outside of the house looks like.  I do remember looking out the window, laying on the bed, starring up through the trees at a deep blue sky. 

...

I wake up in the morning when the alarm goes off.  As always, I hit the snooze alarm, and roll back over, my head buried beneath the sheets, my head on her pillow. She not there, but I still smell her on the sheets and her pillow.  I lay there for a minute and wonder, wonder if this dream can become real.  I don't know, so I push myself further under the blanket, submerge myself in her scent, and try to go back to the dream.

insecurity comes home to roost

it always comes to this
late at night in this room
laying here
alone
thinking about you out there
this track i'm on
leads into a hard, long wall
stopped
sitting
try to stop thinking
staring at the white wall
unplug the christmas lights
think about sleep
and not thinking
and sleep
in one second
my head will hit feather
and it will be
tomorrow.

Sunday, i remember...

Sunday
i can usually remember Sunday
although i tend to
call all days
Sunday
for spite
another Sunday
laying here in bed
for once not drinking on Sunday
just listening to my bones rattle around in this bed
just thinking i shouldn't be thinking
just laying
just waiting
when i should be
just sleeping
just forgetting
just starting a new day
just night
night.

i forgot the whole thing...

forgot it
i can't really
remember the hole i'm in
and how i dream about you every moment
that i shouldn't
shouldn't even be thinking about you
i'd be forgetting
if i could
i might
i could never forget about you
as much as i wish i could

broken knuckle

just another
just another day
when i want to fall
when i have fallen
and you think i haven't
but there is little i think of
other than you
in my black hole
i want you to be here with me
and hold you
desperate and pathetic
my sad dream of you
i hold as i go to sleep
knowing you'll never come to me
i should give up
and dream
of my own deep sleep
and waste me
in my dreams
if i had any i would hold them close
before i
fall one my
whatever

laying about...

Sunday night
of a three-day weekend
which would make it like a Saturday
normally
which means i'm thinking
about drinking
tomorrow night
dreading the week of nights
alone in my hole
i'm thinking i should get out more often
meet some new people
who like me a little more
or a little less
which might work
if i could find me

bonsai love *******

it's becoming...

just trying to remember the concept