Shave and a spritz

Finally cut the hair.

Damn. I’d better get a good job with this haircut. But then it’s amazing what we do to ourselves to try and impress someone so we can achieve our own little goals. Cut the hair for the job interview, rag my chubby mortal coil in the newest clothes, spritz with the latest colognes hoping to get laid, pamper our bottoms with the cottony softness of the new improved toilet tissues.

Well, I’ve cut, shaved, spritzed, dressed, crapped, wiped clean and I still don’t feel up for this. Money is evil because it’s green, and I hate green beans because they have that weird insectoid hair that falls off when you boil it and money gets that weird fringe on the edges. But if you gave me a lot of money, I’d thank you for it anyway.

I never felt like I was keeping up with the Joneses as much as keeping up with the damn bank, the student loans, the rent… rage, rage against modern living!!

I’m lacking in stone and concrete today, my head is not lodged in the here and now, I’m riffing on a dreamy state, an interesting drug of air and water, a person in trouble but only in the most entertaining ways, it’s all sitcom gold, man.

It’s Monday.

Steps

I met an old friend J__ today at work. At first, I was actually really excited that he had wandered back into my current place of employment, but that initial feeling was soon overpowered by a myriad of confusing ups and downs.

It’s like sitting down to a Ouija board. The indicator slides effortlessly to the letters, the felt tips whispering across the board spelling out words and responses that you expect. Excitement builds as you realize it’s working, and you are actually communicating with someone, like a spirit from beyond, your old friend. Sentences, and old jokes bubble to the surface, rippling across the top of your memory, but as it all settles, you can see the darkness at the bottom of the well. The questions continue to fly, your fingertips barely touching the ouija arrow as it slides frantically across the board, feeding off the power of the past until it begins to pierce the heart of things; it moves from the past, to the briefest moment of the present, and hurtles itself gleefully into an unknown future. The fork of the road breeched and you and the spirit separate as the board continues to spell out words and answers on its own. Fear, disappointment, and finally a bit of disgust creep in as you remove your hands and watch the chaotic dance on the board. I never expected any of this, but the different roads have been traveled, and who can really go backwards through time?

So we talked of old times, laughed a bit, and boy it got rather awkward quickly. He’s “grown up” in the sense of having kids, a mortgage, a steady paying job, while I’m still struggling.

Neither is right, neither is wrong. But I still feel that no community exists in which to retreat, no place to kick around my ideas. I have 2 of the best friends I could have now, who understand different parts of my soul, but where is everyone else? Is it really so empty out here?

And am I supposed to gage myself by these Western/Christian rules? Of course I shouldn’t, but it doesn’t make it any easier to not feel out of step.

Just the day

See, the inherent problem of keeping a journal online is that you have to say something of minor import several times a week, at the very least.

I have nothing to say today… I just am feeling rather empty.

dreams..

So last nights dream was rather odd.

It's night and my stomach is ragging about its lack of action. The place I choose to eat seems more like an arboretum than a diner, but that's ok by me, even though I'm not that big on eating my greens. In fact, I don't even really remember what it looks like on the outside at all. I don't remember coming in the door; I just arrive at the podium and wait to be seated.

All the lights are shut off except for some dim track lights dangling from the ceiling along the glass wall. There are a few other guests sitting at small two-person tables. I pull out my chair and sit down, taking a table that's pushed right up against the glass. Even though I'm leaning my shoulder on the glass and cupping my hands around my eyes looking out, nothing can be seen beyond the low shrubs growing directly on the other side of the glass wall. But somehow I'm sure that anything watching me from the black has a perfect view of the guests in here. I feel more like a target than a person dining.

The waiters are clustered in a corner, quite conspicuous in their white jackets, and they're attempting to make the guests interact. They ask questions to one table and then volley to the next with "Uhm, and what do you think? You know… about what they just said…" all just nervous chit-chat, and diversion.

I duck my head down and try to avoid being a part of this, so I pull out my flair pen, and start writing this journal on a napkin…..

And wake to today… off to the tent sale to check out the used/donated books and then off to see Luka Bloom!!! YEA…..

Catch y'all on the downstrum…

Been a bit…

Well, let's see. Finally played out on Monday after who knows how long… only to realize how homogenized the open mic circuit still is. Granted, I fulfill a few of the clichéd requirements, but still…. Here, let me give you a rundown.

We got there a bit later than usual, so by the time I got to the signup sheet, I was the 10th person in line. If you've ever been to an open mic, you know that the wait can be (and usually is) hellishly long. And I mean fire and brimstone, baby. Sizzle sizzle and all that random black greasy grizzle hanging off your dirty wire backyard grill.

Snazzy.

So the quota is 1 long song or 2 short songs, just so you pull in around 6 minutes because of the number of people there. It's almost my turn when this girl gets up there, acting all meek and shy. Little voice, and whispers into the mike, "Hi, I'm from Florida, and uhm… I just came around here because, you know, uhm, I wanted to play." She then steps back from the mike, makes a tentative strum on the guitar while looking at the chord her right hand is forming, and rips into another Sarah Mclaughin-crow-nicks-dopple grrrl belt um out song about bad bad men. And then it drags on, and then it morphs into another 5 minute song… and then… rather than cutting her off like he told us he'd do if we got too long, the host lets her go on, waiting until she's finished to say that we've only got ONE song apiece. (Florida Stagehog then got up AGAIN to play and sing with her friend who'd signed up to sing on the next set of songs. Unreal.)

Yes, this is what makes it all worth it.. the crunch of having two minutes and forty nine seconds to prove yourself.I'm sure I shaved 29 seconds off that usual time tonight.

I got up and did 'Spyder', rocking as hard as I could in a room full of hardline acoustic heartbreakers with no warm up and nervous has hell. But did it to the cheers of the open minded and the looks of shock or disgust on the rest. Suck it down, folks. We can't be pained all the time.

Heh, and even though I wasn't even in the final running for the prize, it was worth it. And I've found my nemesis. But that's for another day….

SO I need a set list for tonight.

Since there's a game at Wrigley tonight, that swears me off of playing at Uncommon Ground Café tonight. Unfortunately that also means playing out will consume the entire evening since it means going to the lesbian bar Subterranean. Damn. I really detest playing there, not just because of the time it sucks up, but also because of the crowd. They are so… bleh. It's just the pre school sandbox mentality. They all say that they hate shit like mtv's real world, but boy o boy, when that damn show came to town and stopped in at the bar during open mike, they were knocking each other over to get up on stage when they were taping.
"I'm so pretty, oh so pretty…." Smile #4, hand position #3 follow these beauty guidelines for fame, prosperity and good sex.

Tonight will have to be a cover night. I'll take the electric with me and play a few covers and maybe 'spyder'. That would be my 3 song limit. It seems like a waste almost to spend all that time waiting just to get up and play 3 songs… at most 10 minutes for me, since I tend to choose short songs…

Better go home and get some practice in.

Anticlimactic.

I guess that sort of sums it all up. The demo was handed over, and the brainstorm of another possible person to hand it over to, a possible connection was born, but in the end, it's all just a waiting game.

So back to the daily grind of work, and fishing around for inspiration, which comes in weird places.

Oh, I highly recommend the new CD from the band Hayden…. Check it out if you get a chance! :)

Hmm…. And off to write something. I can't think of much since I feel so empty tonight. I'm just waiting for the raging thunderstorms they've promised us.

Are there any other insomniacs out there? I have often wondered how some people are so untroubled that they can drop off to sleep at the drop of an eyelid. I used to be so jealous of the kids in college who could trot off to the student union between classes, pass out for 40 minutes and then wake refreshed! My mind never shuts down that fast, no matter how exhausted I feel… the thoughts just swirl around like dirt and dead leaves in a retention pond…. Well, not that depressing always, but usually a bit dingy.

Lots of people have suggested methods I could use to divide and conquer these thoughts, or various relaxation techniques, but I find that either I get bored of them, or they just plain don't work. I've come to the conclusion that my eyelids are too thin, letting in more light than for others… and also causing the blood vessels to be lit… sort of like my own portable color and shape kaleidoscope. I close my eyes, and whatever light just shines through my eyelids illuminating the movement of the blood cells, and my eyes register it, the retinas always in a state of excitement and reception. And the mind fights the constant stimulate with these thoughts, swirling around like blood cells through capillaries…

Wank wank wank…. I'm verbally wanking now… I think I'd better play some guitar and then try to sleep again.