I think that really we get it wrong thinking that joy is the only way to feel freedom. In this pickle, we miss plenty of both. There's something about dreading the future that makes today seem pretty sweet.
Today I sat in indirect sunlight, drank pilsener and ate someone else's potato pancakes with sour cream and cranberry dressing. There was something comfortable and digestive in it. My very good friend has poison oak on her arm and was uncomfortable and making faces that I liked to watch but didn't like to imagine how it felt to want to look that way. Her bandage looks like a soft gauntlet.
Jayson Poole is in town, and he's the only reason at all that I even make music in the way that I do. He doesn't know how long he'll be here and arrived at the downtown Grayhound station at eight this evening. The future for us all is wide open. Right now he's comparing the serbian rapper Sin to the RZA, based on a common speech impediment. Get with it. Ichat is the new phone caking, but neither really work once you no longer live with your parents.
good night.
No comments:
Post a Comment