ypsilanti's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- this night has opened my eyes it's early in the morning. i feel closer to the morning than to the night, i got a poison headache, but i feel alright. the wires are singing, or humming real low, waiting for somewhere to go, or somewhere to talk about going. we got the computer working, and we got intornet at the house for the first time since early september. expect long, embarassing, far-too-personal yet surprisingly vague entries more often. today was work, werk, what have you. i been thinking about all things in such a different light, looking at how quickly things can change inside of you, but also at how things outside of your control can change so much, and change you up. do i really think that i'll be able to survive by selling cds of my music, and working on the weekends only? i don't know. i hope so? my mind is full. i think about the foreverness of everything. things that can't be fixed, things that never end. songs that never start. i flip out. this week me and melissa drove down to louisville, and then after i found the most beautiful pinstiped suit, we went to the record store, looked all around, drank some wine, ate some doughnuts, and said "fuck it, let's keep going to nashville." i had never been there before either, so we drove for as long as we could, slept for a while and then found ourselves in the country music mecca, on the strip with countless stores that sold cowboy boots, jukebox 45s, belt buckles, what have you. it was beautiful and strange, would have been depressing without the art museum with the huge andreas gursky print to break the fall. as the sun set up the street, we walked, and i called up julie. the only person i even remotely know in tennessee, and the first girl i ever went out with. she wasn't home, but we left a message and found a thai resturaunt. it was completely empty, a huge space. no one in it, and they were playing the third velvet underground record. surreal. julie calls back halfway through the absolute best massaman i have ever had. god, you would have loved it. we meet up after dinner and it's perhaps one of my first encounters with adulthood in the way that i saw and never understood in films when i was a younger kid. strange scenes where old lovers catch up, exchange stories, laugh too loud or smile too big at the beginnings of sentances. a kind of exchange that doesn't really have a name or make any sense. the parts of familiarity, closeness, loss, contempt and venerability that never touch but move in circles so close to one another that they're always threatening to collide. in my heart, i was so happy to see her, so excited to hear that her younger sister had been married and her mom was still crazy and she was getting ready to start on her phd and maybe stay in france for a while. things that seemed good. there was so much that seemed to happen inbetween words. remembering a lot of things that never made perfect sense. always wanting to communicate how things have changed and grown, how things have remained the same. the fine lines of that type of communication. the way words never really work, or just get weird looks when they're brave enough to try. there's that song about the baby getting dumped in the water, or someone having an illigitimate baby or some shit, and he keeps saying "and i'm not happy and i'm not sad". it seems simple enough. things aren't always on or off, someone could feel inbetween the extremes of happiness and sadness, it happens all the time. but right before it, there's the super melodramatic part about how the night has opened his eyes, and he will never sleep again. ha. oh man. that shit was so funny. always the extremist, always getting hit by a car or getting flailed or brutalized or selling everything he owned, or going somewhere just to die, or knowing he was going to die if he so much as tried to explain what was going on in his head. but somehow, spending a half hour with the first person i ever fell in love with, i knew exactly what it meant. after love there is nowhere to go. the opposite extreme is usually the easiest or first-reached conclusion, but with time and important years between love and non-love, you can keep yourself remembering why you hate someone (or what you hate about them) or try for understanding. some people can't get past love and just stay there alone, totally fucked, endlessly waiting. but here, 25 years old, a good seven years since the unshakable explosion of hurt that was how my first love ended, there was nowhere to go. i wasn't waiting for love to start again, no way was i holding on to hatred or animosity for anything past. i was just having coffee with an old friend, catching up and saying things that didn't sound like me, coming out of nowhere. i wasn't happy and i wasn't sad, and there was no way to get closer to either one, ever. i would never sleep again. and sleep would be something new, not ever comprable to what was sleep at seventeen, when my heart was no one elses and my world broke open like an egg to let someone else really come in for the first time. we said goodbye and drove home, nine minutes and nine hours away. some people i know never think about the past or the future. ever. i find myself thinking forward or looking back so often that i sometimes destroy the present. someone please help me with this. don't look back. don't fuck up. don't stop. don't stop. don't stop. i'm going to go try on my suit. ******* listen to: melt banana, torches to rome, windy & carl, andrew wk, chisel, cranium, heat, surrounded by snakes. 4:53 a.m. - 2.25.01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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