ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- holla in cathedrals spend dollas on some refills impossible complete skills like fathers will proceed till when you dance, i give up. some days ago i was falling asleep at six or seven in the morning, again, and beginning to feel the start of sleep-stained nervousness and regret that i would be in bed through half of tommorow, and catch maybe two or three hours of sun, apart from the small amount creeping dimmly through the window at that point. i started to imagine all the things that would happen in a perfect day, and what it would feel like. what time i would wake up (8:30am), what i would do first (walk down to the washtenaw dairy and get a cup of coffee), what would be there (nonspecificly: love, support, inspiration, ideas, family, balance, hope, beauty) what would not (specificly: the bumps on my head, the fear of aging in my mind, the unpaid tickets and bills, the misunderstandings and muscommunications, the uncommunication, snow, depression, waiting, missed busses, missed moments, forever fucked misgivings, etc.) this idealist imagining went on for a while and i fell asleep, waking up not too many hours later to a dream about birds and using different parts of my mind to compartmentalize responsible worry and focus on joy simeltaniously. it made my day, and i unsucsessfully told several people about the dream. today i woke up and realized immediately that it has been cold but not bitter, and full of sunshine for almost a week. every day for about as long i've become immediately focused and hyper and overly happy by drinking (increasingly larger) cups of coffee. how simple. who fucking knew? tommorow we mix the flashpapr record, and then the next day i play a show, and then the next day my friends are in town from new york, and then they (and we) play another show, then we finish the record i been working on for literal years, and it can go on like this forever if neccessary, and if anyone is mad at me right now it's their own fault, and i can't spend the rest of my life afraid of being who i am, now can i, motherfuckers? so, i feel pretty positive, and maybe it's actually called "Manic", and the semi freaked out counterpart "Depression" is just around the corner, but while i can, i would like to smile and be alive and have some motherfucking fun and live "life" to "the full"est. so sweet. code red, etc. resoulte violence. next. 2:36 a.m. - 1.14.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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