<<reverse | forward>> | index | beginning
Just Look At The Sky

Sat, Nov 24, 2001 3:23PM -0600

Currently soothing the savage breast: "A Day Without Rain" by Enya.

The world must be coming to an end. As of 3pm today, the temperature here in North Chicago is exactly the temperature in Los Angeles. In other words, it is double what is normal for here in the Frozen Wastelands, I walked around yesterday in the city without a jacket or sweater, and I know I shouldn't complain, I shouldn't even mention it all, but like I said, I think the world is ending. Or maybe global warming is getting really, really bad, at least.

So, for the second week in a row (and the fifth night in three weeks where there was clearly too much alcohol in the vicinity), we stayed at Ysh's place until the sun came up, though this time at least the guys weren't wearing lipstick, and we weren't trying to pin people down and take off their clothes. Nope, no one even shook their ass in front of a video camera. And, thankfully, no one lost their pants.

So it was 2:00am, and we were getting ready to wind down a relatively sedate evening. Dinner at Francesca's North, then listening to L'il Ed jam at B.L.U.E.S on Clark. Then someone gets the inspiration to play a little cards, and here we find ourselves at 8:30am mildly drunk but mostly too tired to even count to three, and contemplating whether or not to urinate over the side of the balcony because there are five full bladders and only two toilets, and yeah, we're friends and all, but I don't we've known each other long enough to feel comfortable about sharing....

S: Look man, it's still dark out there [as the sun is shining brightly]. I don't think anyone will see.

Y: Hey, hey, there are two bathrooms! You can go next!

But I have been contemplating this interesting change in my personality. (Maybe I've just consumed enough alcohol to damage my frontal lobes?) For the past two years, I've been stoic, and have managed to convince myself that while human contact is important, I don't necessarily need it. I mean, yeah, it's a sort of half-existence blundering through life all by yourself, but it won't kill you, and it gives you time to concentrate on other things. But now I find myself floundering when left to my own devices. I just sit here and stare at the flotsam and jetsam of the Internet, trying to tease out the pattern of other people's lives from the floating words and pictures, waiting until the phone rings, or the appointed hour arrives. I used to have the greatest times by myself, I used to look forward to the quiet solitude of my thoughts, the stories forming in my imagination. Now, without people around, I am seriously lost, and I find it extremely discomfiting.

But I think I know why, now that I've sat here thinking about and worrying it apart. The Words have left me. Usually this time of year, ideas and songs fly through my head faster than I can write them down. Lyrics, turns of phrases, even sketches and pictures. Usually, this is when Inspiration takes me up, uses me as her instrument, until my mind is ablaze with the imaginings of a thousand worlds, born and destroyed in instants.

Today, I can't see any of it, though I can grope blindly and catch the shape of it all. All I can do is stare at the screen, trying to come to grips with this block, this stagnant silence, and I worry, because without these Words, I do not know if I can make it very far. But maybe this year it will just be late, or maybe it's just an off year, I'll catch up again later. All I can do is hope, so long as I'm breathing, I suppose.

<<reverse | forward>> | index | beginning