Thursday, November 08, 2007

Can you hit it hit it can you hit it hit it can you...

Is it mold that's drying out my face, pulling all the moisture out of my nasal passages so that there isn't enough air, at least not here in this bed? That doesn't make sense, since mold is moisture and this bed isn't that close to the mold -- or at least I don't think so -- maybe it's something about lying down for a while and I'm not at the right angle to fully utilize the air -- the problem is that everything sounds ridiculous, including everything that makes my life unbearable. Just when I think there's no mold anyway, it's something about how my apartment is so dry -- maybe the heat from downstairs and next door, the heat surrounding me -- that's when I go in the kitchen and the whole kitchen is mold with a little bit of kitchen, thanks. Why today -- what happened today? Or, wait -- maybe that's the smell of the supposedly natural floor cleaning solution. I hate that nothing makes sense, I mean that I can’t make sense of everything -- I mean everything that makes everything so difficult.

I hate it when I relax for a little while about the mold, thinking maybe somehow it's miraculously disappeared or it's gone down to a level that I can tolerate -- and then boom it's everywhere and then I'm worried that is the cause of all my problems, even though there's always something else. Maybe I need to listen to music -- I put on Cajmere’s “Brighter Days,” I mean sure it's a bit early for Brighter Days but wait just listen -- ooh uh I need ooh uh I need ooh uh I need ooh ooh uh uh I I need ooh uh I need ooh uh I need ooh uh I need... can you hit it hit it can you hit it hit it can you hit it hit it can you hit it hit it -- really, what could be more profound? No, really -- the way it all hits my hips, I'm not sure if it's too early for dancing but there's no avoidance now brighter day-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay... But seriously -- I'm trying the slow moves until my back hurts anyway and then I'm just twirling around the apartment and stopping with my hands on my hips or throwing my hands in the air a little bit it's all in the look, honey the look in my eyes you know the look I'm giving.

I stop after three minutes, just so I don't hurt myself. Let's just pretend there's nothing between this beginning to my day, and the end, yes the end -- no, wait -- first I get my hair cut, that's a high kind of like dancing you walk in you engage you walk out -- okay, then I crash. But first I'm thinking about finding more of these activities in my life, especially now when I want to feel an ongoing presence in erotic possibilities, even if they don't exist. Instead of that 10 minutes of excitement in desire and then it's gone, I'm trying to get back there shouldn’t I be horny I mean I was horny when that guy smiled hello before realizing I wasn't who he thought I was, he gave that I-don't-know-what-to-do-now straight dude look -- please, who were you doing drugs with? But then later I'm angry at my exhaustion for taking away other possibilities, I can't experience those possibilities with all this exhaustion! What I need is more people in my life who understand this whole web and then I can be more present in it instead of just trying to be okay I can be terrible too and then maybe that presence will help me become okay.

But I can't help wanting the high of Brighter Days, even though supposedly Cajmere became a born-again Christian -- his last Green Velvet album had all these hilarious songs with names like “Overcome the Flesh” I just assumed it was satire but let's forget about that, I need new music anyway -- yes, new music would certainly help but right now I can only think about Brighter Days, is it too late at night or should I put it back on?

No comments: