MOOOOOOD

today didn't start any earlier than yesterday.

i had one of those sleepless nights where you can't drift off until the sun's coming up, just to be sure you survived whatever the hell it was keeping you awake all night. i think the sound that put me to sleep was my mom leaving for work.

i'm stuck in a mood, a mood that doesn't let me sleep unless it's daylight. i'm trying to pinpoint where it's from, when it started, the cure. i've self-diagnosed a day out of the house, maybe some time at the bookstore, some time idealoguing at the coffeeshop, some time eating some sushi. actually, that sounds very good to me. i will take a full dose daily until symptoms discontinue.

jamie says it's the after effects of travel, something similar to post-partum depression. it could be something subconscious like that, it could be very simply jet lag. it could be the playlist i put on while i washed the dishes, it could have been spending friday night in the hospital. it could be the inability to settle my room, it could be a lonely heart. it could go on and on and on and on for the rest of my life, condemning me to join the disturbing league of insomniacs unwittingly nocturnal, unknowingly dead. no, that's terrible. i'm out of here, doctor's orders. will return healed.

don't worry people, i'm not sad. i'm just restless.

my semester off officially begins now.

it began to slowly sink in last night when i went to bed and realized i had no reason to wake up. nothing suicidal, just, no plans, no 8am classes, no early morning shifts at work. this is liberating right? whereas school binds you with routine, ties you down with obligation and responsibility, my life is now...unscheduled. i eventually woke up (at a defiant 11:30) and checked facebook, which is really only a 10 minute ordeal. so, that done with, i was out of things to do.

i resorted to turning on the 'flaming lips' as loud as my computer allows and waited with anxious breath the next assignment that would come to me. me, the liberated unscheduled free man, right? i ended up baking chicken.

it was while i sat on my kitchen floor (legs crossed, chin resting on my fists) watching the internal juices of my chicken gurgle, bubble, boil, and slide across its naked skin that i finally felt it hit. you know, the slowly sinking thought of having 5 months of no plans. and it was along with that feeling hitting me somewhere personal that i announced to myself i would not spend the entire 5 months on my kitchen floor. as absolutely fascinating as it was today. for like, an hour and half.

fuck baked poultry! (exclamation, not command.) i'm going to go plan out the next 140 days, and i can tell you this, they all start before 11:30.

dinnertime

S U N C H I P S a n d W H I T E W I N E.

On My Way Home

So it's just before 1am and finally I'm off the bus. Immediately, I'm introduced to an unnaturally warm wind rushing forward off the mountain. Glancing up, low clouds mingle ominously heralding the onset of a summer storm or rapture; I'm discomforted. The sky is dark, but mostly grey, tinted yellow by the distant city lights on the other side of the ridge. The short peaks ahead of me are silhouetted, and dangerous. I reoccupy my thoughts with friendlier things, the cigarette in my hand, the music in my headphones, my bed. Fooled into safety, I stall at the crosswalk just in time for a dispatched taxi to miss me. The driver salutes my carelessness, four fingers short of a wave. I scamper across. I wait to cross again at a large, dead road, vacant for the exception of the off-duty buses lining up for bed. My light stays stubbornly red so I jaywalk. Not much further now as I start to climb the hill along the village road, also vacant. Streetlamps illuminate my path and highlight the lonely back street. 'Don't be lonely,' I say. 'I'm here.' And a truck barrels down without caution for its cargo or pedestrians. I'm not safe, so I quicken my pace but my music stops and all I'm left with is the slapping of feet against sandals and concrete and my own labored breathing. Slap slap slap slap slap inhale exhale inhale exhale. I stop suddenly just before the stairs and check behind me. No one at all, and I'm painfully aware of myself, and the cicadas. And a disturbing frog with a battered croak.

so fucking lame

im feeling sorry for myself.
i went up onto my roof and had a smoke in the rain.
it was...special. big clouds. blue sky. light rain.
then i felt sick.
so i climbed down and took a cold shower.
now im eating a cracker.

domestic bliss.

holy shit. i just had the most unexpectedly enjoyable time washing up three days worth of dishes. i figured this simple act of domesticity would be the least i could do to apply some semblance of productivity to a generally lazy day. (i admit it was lazy, but i will fight you if you say sitting in front of three hours of tv shows is wasteful.)

i charged the ipod to full juice, which is comparable to a full tank of gas, and went to tackle a crowded sink. i swirled through my artists list, looking for something new or long-forgotten. lifting my dizzy thumb, i landed on 'tv on the radio.' i'm guilty of judging books by their cover, people by their appearance, and bands by their name, so i've never given much thought to 'tv on the radio,' which is in my opinion, a dumbass name. absolute dumbass, with a hint of trying to be clever. but mostly dumbass. but these guys are PHENOMENAL. i owe them a large apology, a fruit basket, a gift card. i actually enjoyed doing the dishes, and washed all the pans.

i was completely torn. i couldn't decide if washing dishes was utterly mundane in comparison to the songs coursing through my headphones, or if conversely, the otherwise lowly act of scrubbing old bits of fish and crusted oatmeal was truly a cosmic endeavor worthy of brain rumbling guitars and hearty choruses. i'm still listening to them. and i will not stop ever. not until every dirty dish on earth is cleaned. long live 'tv on the radio.'

where are all the beautiful people?

i'm back in the land of no eye-candy.