Overcast Days with Nothing to Say

Writing something on the internet makes it one step closer to being fiction.

I have reverted. I have reverted back to falling asleep while eating. Remember the days of my clutching burritos and / or snickers bars while passed out on couch and / or bed? Last night I fell asleep eating community bread and possibly someone else's cream cheese. Well, that brief relapse will be the one and only drunk eating & sleeping experience I will have again. Now that, you know, I'm an adult.

I have started dreaming again. That is to say, my dreams are no longer limited to really fucked up nightmares. And yes, I detest it when people go on and on about their dreams (I wasn't there, I don't care), so I'm not going to do that. But riddle me this: why am I constantly dreaming about an exboyfriend I no longer speak to, a geeky drama guy, human sculpture, and a boy I want to hold hands with? It's like friggin' high school all over again.

If I have been awake for three hours is it too soon to take a nap? If I stopped being athletic 12 years ago, is it too late to start again? What does it mean when you look at someone and you feel like throwing up but you cry instead (quite embarrassingly, I might add)? How come habitual behavior is so unappealing? Why do overcast days make me so happy? When did I become such a coward?

Apparently Chan Marshal gave up drugs and alcohol. So now she'll actually be able to get through playing an entire song live, but unfortunately, her music is going to suck. It was a sad day when I realized that most of my childhood heroes were dead, or reformed. Tom Waitts has a swear jar at his house. He wasn't a childhood hero of mine, but it's still sad. Ok, Grover. Grover was one of my heroes and I guess he's still pretty much the same. Thank god for Grover.

Sometimes, when drinking, whatever it is I'm doing devolves into getting overly emotional, and whatever it is I am emotional about devolves into crying about all of my dead friends. I suppose I don't let myself confront how I feel about it the majority of my sober time because, well, I don't want to. So it just kind of sneaks out when I'm drunk and not paying attention. But it's been so long now. How long is it going to be before it stops bothering me. Apologies to everyone who has had to bear wittiness.

Why do we do everything humanly possible in our lives to keep from confronting ourselves? I was doing some sort of spine undulation in Grotowski (yeah, I know, "college") and it occurred to me that at some point we start deciding things about ourselves so that we can forget them. We decide things about ourselves because not deciding makes things confusing and complicated. I decided I knew how to move in my body. And then there I was, on a green yoga mat at 10 in the morning on a Wednesday, doing fucking spine undulations, and I realized there is a whole section of my back that just does not move. I'm sure that's a metaphor for something but I haven't figured it out yet. So now I'm undulating all over the place like a fucking lunatic because I have to prove to myself that I am not frozen. I don't even know what I'm talking about. I think initially I knew. Oh well. Undulations. False decisions. Whatever. But if you see me rolling my body like a moron in the dining hall at least now you'll know why. Feeling things is painful and embarrassing. I'm trying not to be afraid of it.

And I'm sure Cat Power will put out a really great album perfectly sober. I'm sure she'll find some other way to feel fucked up and upset.

I'm going to watch a movie and think about dogs and everything that has happened lately and everything I wished had happened and running and making lots of mixes for people that I will never give them and the sincerity of wanting to pick up the phone and the better judgment not to. Not yet.