ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary

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glass

good god. life seems improvised. i just got back from recording my first record with matt playing saxaphone, me playing drums. it felt like everything you always do that you don't think about thinking about until maybe years later. who taught you how to be a child? or how to speak and understand and imagine? who told you to drink or to eat or to drink AS MUCH CHAMPAGNE AS IS HUMANLY POSSSIBLE????? NO ONE!!!! you see, you just do it, much like the wolf or the shark never learns to be bloodthirsty, they just kind of are. i do remember thinking different things about improvised music for the past six or seven years, and i think today (without thinking about it) i truly began to understand those six or seven years of thought..

we all go through unbelievable changes and unfathomable problems. i started this diary about four days before my 24th birthday. since then (almost one year) i've updated it and made sense of myself and my loved and unloved ones in these pages, and from different places in the world, even.. a big year, and maybe a year of bad luck? sometimes they shoot, sometimes they yell, sometimes they kick or hit, sometimes they smash your windows or smash your heart up. with all these violent chances and possibilities, i guess it makes sense that everyone is so focused on the relevance of kissing and screwing around. but still, balance is important. there are so many times and frames and ideas and wishes that seemed sort of important as they were happening, and now i couldn't remember them if it was life or death. what if we lived that way our whole goddamn lives, and nothing was important to us for longer than it was in our immediate scope of vision or thought? how lame.

last night i looked through an old folder for some image for the new flyer i been working on. i didn't find anything right, but i found my old copy of wolf "slicer" magazine, completed in early or maybe middle 1998. i recommend it to everyone concerned with joy or understanding.

when will you understand? when will you be overjoyed? where do you go at night? what are you sleeping on? if we fall asleep in front of each other, is it the truth? does it depend who wakes up first? who is lying? are you lying to you? bichon friese. bichon friese. bichon friese. bichon friese. bichon friese. bichon friese. bichon friese. bichon frise. bichon friese. bichon friese. bicjon firse. bichon friese. bichon friese. bichon friece. bichon friece. bichon friese. bichon frese.

it hurts to get older, but it only hurts really bad until you start making progress. then you realize that even the times of complete stupidity and seeming wastefulness were also part of the evolution of who you were becoming, and who you are constantly changing into, yet never actually are.

bartles & james. bartles and james. bartles and james. bartles and james. bartles and james. bichon friese.

everywhere you go.

anywhere you've been.

*******

listen to: andrew cyrill, don cherry "brown rice", wolf eyes, red or dead, bob dylan, mc5, buzzcocks, adult., john coltrane "INTERSTELLAR SPACE", lightning bolt, ruination.

don't listen to: floorpunch, add n to (x), one million boys who have enough money to buy guitars and amps, but never enough to buy something to say.

7:20 p.m. - 7.23.01

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