dark rain on a sunday night; jesusrain?
��������� �����all right. time for a journal entry.filled with a longing nostalgia for the summer. listening to things like the postal service & peaches, and switchfoot. reminding myself of sitting alone and looking out a shaded-window at the campus. nights spent at SKS. briefly windy moon, trees & cars through sloshpuddles.
the overtly orange feeling of a sunday, round & tantalizing, rolling away from you until it's only a blurry, tangy crescent-shaped memory in your mouth. your eyes are suddenly windows, your tears are rain, collecting in the sills of your lower eyelid -
i want to write songs. i want to talk about the darker kinds of rain, that looks black in the sunday night, the empty green bottles of beer, the silhouettes filling your vision, front-lit. the little romantic images, shards of stained glass every once-in-awhile piercing your brain, nudging it into some sort of bleeding recall -
last night corey and i drove, yes, all the way to northampton, mass, to see mike doughty in concert. mason jennings opened for him - we paid fifteen dollars to get into the small black theatre, from the stage standing about a foot. which was exhilarating - but not overly inspiring. mike doughty himself inspired me - white & pale, like a deranged shark trawling the waters of the smoke-filled air. a synaesthete of the first order. i could see him in a cowl & cassock, mumbling sainted verses to the general miasma prescribed by his watery eyesight - i don't even have words for what amazing genius that man has in his lyrics. and it's not even the words! it's - i can't even. what special genius is in the lyric "you don't use words like that // st louise is listening"? i don't see anything. maybe something .. catholic in nature. but you have to HEAR the song. it fills you with - meaning, indescribable meaning that is toe to top-full of words too jumbled to spit out.
and if you can, it's in a spitball shaped glob of half-formed pulp. he played an amazing set - starting with st. louise and ending with janine, with some new stuff in there. at the end, i bought a copy of "skittish" even though i have all the mp3s on my computer. he signed it with a black sharpie, MDOUGHTY. i put my name on the mailing list, bent over at the hip, scrawling rapidly with a blue bic pen, slimmer & more anxious than the steady sharpie. shook his hand. the thick contact was sudden and encompassing - the smell of smoke still clung to the invisible fabric of the air. i nodded, and grinned - and then left. somewhat euphoric.
"painfully uncool. church of dropouts, sinners, failures & fools. it's a beautiful letdown" - another great song, by switchfoot. another summersong. twisty and winding, like sheaves of wheat in a autumn wind. full of similes tonight! i asked april what it was like for lesbians to have sex, and she drew me a diagram, with instructions:
1) Who? : 2 Naked Womans
2) Where? : On a Bed, or Floor
3) How? [diagram]
4) Conclusion ... kind of like heterosexual sex .. involves rubbing vaginas together, very acrobatic.
disclaimer: this is not Porn, purely Education.
i have to say. it was very enlightening. i may use that someday. if i ever make a movie about lesbians. or something. right now, the overfed taste of cajun chicken ramen noodles is sticking in my mouth. like old spiderwebs in a corner. it rained, all day, mostly, while i stared out the windows making non-sequiturs about it going to rain. and then it did, while i was in the scene shop, getting paint on me, and on some of the scenery. the show goes up in less than two weeks. needless to say, this is mildly frightening, but otherwise ... well. once it's over, i kind of get my life back. my brain feels like it's been plumber-strapped into my skull, into one mode, and that mode only: it only exists to think about current events in this show ... and maybe some sundry other things. like getting laid. which would be a great present, santa. i hope i'm on the nice list this year - it'd be awful hard to bang a lump of coal.
back to the grind. expect another update soon - or maybe after macbeth is over. god. it's almost over. my head is whirling. the CD player in my car doesn't work. neither do the powerlocks or the interiour light. i think i blew a fuse.
my car tends to mirror my brain, sometimes.