carvngintowater (carvngintowater) wrote,
carvngintowater
carvngintowater

moremoremore

every time i feel competitive with someone or something i have to look at something organic until it goes away. every time i feel sad for no good reason i have to think of things that make me genuinely happy, or play music with my fingers that articulates the sadness. it has worked so far, and i have begun spring cleaning in the homestretch of summer. it is weird to be in such a quiet place for so long after everything has been loud and fast. no school, no voices, no obtrussive radio stations or stinky food or aggressive pigeons. the clicking of fingers on keys is nice, almost palpable once they really get going, and all of the road noises have become a collective unabbreviated sigh that gets more or less satisfying with each turn of the traffic lights. i haven't used any electricty to light my rooms today...something about the reliance upon sunlight makes me more aware of how long an hour is, and how much you can get done, or how relaxing it is just to be at rest.
i played last night, stoned off of my ass, and all of this music came out, all of these chords made sense, it was like my fingers knew the way, they were interpreting the oscilations of my paranoid and permeable (i don't want to say heart or soul, but what else is there?) soul. today, all of it stuck, and i am still writing, this time about my father and how it felt to watch him tuck in his youngest daughter before bed and kiss her goodnight. i don't want to sound bitter, but so what if i am? i need to bleed, even if no one else hears it, although they will. i am bringing my new material to India's tomorrow night.
it should be fun. all of these artists (mostly older than i am) and their creations, like a big pot-luck show-and-tell kind of a thing. i want some feedback, but not a lot. i am going to be quiet and absorbant tomorrow, the way i have felt for the last month or so (even if i haven't seemed it).
older women are strange to me, i sort of relinquish all of mysels -my thoughts, my emotions, my tribulations, my opinions- when i am with certain older women, and then they give me their advice or understanding. sometimes i sense left-handed compliments and resentments, even irritation...i wonder how much of what i sense is real, and how much of it are vestiges of a dysfunctional past. i love genessa, but we will never be the same together. neither will ana and i, or stephen and i, or mom and i, or grandma and i. or i. growing up is weird.
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