8. lana del ray saved my life
i hate coffee chats. never liked it. always faked it. still do. they make me feel like i'm in singles inferno or keeping up with the kardashians or some other reality tv show. pretending.
this is how it makes me feel: all my life i've been pretending. i've done nothing but spit out lie, lie, lie after lie. my mouth is just a well of cobwebs, and there's a skinny snake slithering out of it. shit just comes out.
i just want to sleep forever for a day. it's paradoxical, i know. so are half of the things i say. i don't know what the other half is. i don't want to spend another day wondering. some days when i wake up after a night of drinking another full bottle of $9 wine, i don't know where i am. oh, i do know where i am. i'm just not used to this feeling. the feeling i get when i see the morning light shining from above mount sutro and i ask myself, "am i crazy for being alive again? what happens now?" what happens now?
i tire of routine. i miss routine. i get tired of girlfriends. i miss girlfriends. i get tired of friends. i miss friends. i need sunshine. i need air. i get tired of it all. i grab things. my keyboard from my taiwanese mac dealer in ingleside. my electric guitar from that 30 year old woman with the mole and the strip tank in the upper mission. my bong. my booze. my dick.
it's whatever. it's fucking whatever. life is fucking whatever. wins and losses. finishes and starts. i am someone that starts more things than he finishes, so does that make me cheap? i collect things.
i could never write what i'm writing at 2 pm. i'm too sober for that at that hour.
i'm letting myself just float and be. maybe the water rises and i'm on a donut tube like in ocean world. afterwards the water will fall. how many times have i let myself float? embraced it? the solitude and loneliness? the journey for the process, with no goal to model after. i create what i do, and i don't need anyone's approval or validation. what would that be like?
i don't know. but i do know that writing feels damn good.
ooh let the light in at the backdoor yelling cuz i want to come in ooh turn the light on
thank the lord i have ears so i could hear her sing those words.
wanduffle