twenty nine

'don't bother waking me today'. that's the last line i heard in a day full of line, stanzas, instrumentals, lake ripples, songs of geese, swigs of killians. today is a day of pure reflection, calls to voicemail, and soon to be drunken revelry. maybe today is the apocalypse. well, no, that's a skosh too dramatic, but it seems like there's a cleansing going on, some kind of shift in the fabric, something that i need to pay attention to (yes, i know i ended a sentence with a preposition; fuck off.)

my friend XT is playing jack kerouac, and i'm clearly jealous. i've told her so.

i spent the last several hours at the lakes reading jack [kerouac] and about john [lennon]. this morning i finished a book about jimi (if you don't know who that is just by the spelling of his first name, stop reading my blog. immediately.)

do you ever just sit and wonder what role you play in the world? why you're even here, if you contribute something positive to the greater good, or if by your own internal flaws you just seem to bring the whole thing more to its collective knees? seriously though, i think i try to do the right thing, but i seem to cause more harm, although it's completely unintentional. if you look at it on paper though, no argument could be made in my defense.

damn. that's melodramatic. i don't mean to be.

well, all i have left to say is that i'm staying at morrison hotel. it's my solace. when all there is left, that's the place i know i can go where it's all familiar and i can just be me. it's a place where no one else is required; if they show, they show. and more than likely, they'll be unwelcome. people aren't typically welcome at morrison hotel; it's my place. just like desolation peak was kerouac's place. and san francisco. and the open road. and mexico. at times, i like just looking at my own pale ghostly reflection and seeing nothing. it reminds me of our transience.

today, i'd like to be in arizona. or the yucatan. or beale street-- anywhere that i could be anonymous. anywhere but here. queue up the instrumental part of 'layla' and let me just drive, drive, drive, all the way to the l.a. woman coast. and then i could walk down the open sands and sleep by a pier.