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"if i had a pair of wings, above these prison walls i'd fly" gawd, this thing has been in my head all evening. A1ton & Eddie's "Murie1," an old school Jamaican R&B from the 50's. Lots better than what was torturing me, earlier. Not long after i awoke, i decided to give Slick Willie a ring, to thank him for the use of his old vacuum machine for bleeding brakes... my final task in getting the Swede back on the road, this weekend. In the course of the conversation, he told me that he had to put down his dalmation of eleven years. i could tell he was getting a little emotional, without outright blubbering. no doubt. No one can tell me that animals don't have souls, or that they don't intertwine with your own. this, i know. The problem was, not long after the call this majorly fucked up song had to pop into my consciousness... "Happy Ta1k," A syrupy, diabetic coma-inducing show tune that i'd not heard in years. It never fails... the most fucked up things can happen, and the next thing that happens is the inappropriate mental soundtrack gets the needle dropped on it. As if that wasn't perverse enough.... I stopped by the book store on this uncommonly cool afternoon, got back into the car for the last mile into work, and the jazz station was playing... you guessed it. Something in the back of my mind started screaming, so my involuntary reflexes took over and turned the volume down. I hate when this happens. These little mindfuck coincidences. Worrisome. It's been almost a week since i last made an attempt to add anything of interest to this journal. Not that i've turned my mind off, or have lost the feeling, totally... or want to be shed of the people whose words have bouyed me for over a year. Just sick of the useless, repetitive grocery lists of events that i've been regurgitating for what seems like months. At least, that's what it seems like to me. Work_travelling_radio_auto mechanics_tree-felling_beer-drinking_soccer-watching... like an incessant uninterrupted cycle. Superior to the alternative, i suppose... like the abyss. Just not much to write about. Plus, when i do finally sit at the computer after all of this, most of my time is spent ridding the email of the mountain of penis-enlargement, cheap-regulated-prescription, gut-bucket-porn messages... that seem to be coming from this here D-Land. There may have been three messages from people that i really wanted to hear from in the past three weeks. Tainted, like... this monitor-dominated world. But my head is still on... though my talents have been tilted to the mundane. Not imprisoned. Not dead. Not finished. |
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