the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
oblivion ~ December 30, 2002 - 1:22 a.m. funny how my last entry started with me saying I hate it when I let the diary go dead. and then I did, for way too long. every time I come to my parents' house, I think it's going to be different. that I'm not going to stay up all night this time, or watch digital cable for hours on end, or play silly computer games until dawn... I think that I'll be able to stay as healthy and energized and vital as I am in my own habitat. every time I think that this is the time when I will not withdraw so deeply into myself that it takes me a week to pick up the phone and call some of my oldest friends. that this is the time when I will actually see everyone I planned to. that this time I won't feel sick, and exhausted, and just so damn depressed by the cold, and the gray, and the everything. but here I am. here I am, running the same old ground. drifting sleepily through days filled with tv and computer, roaming this house I know better than anyplace on earth. I forget to go outside for days at a time. I roll out of bed in time for a cup of coffee before dinner, and rub red eyes raw as the dawn birds sing and I finish whatever distraction I've filled my night with in time to fall into bed with the sunrise. I want to write about love. I want to write about love, and magic, and sacred space. about she and he and all the ecstatic energy that resonates from heart to heart to heart. but here, in this moment, I have just enough breath and will to wave weakly from the desolate shore of my mid-winter oblivion. and I'm not complaining, really. not this time. I'm just noticing. noticing the way I've been eating, restlessly, ravenously, although I am never hungry. at the same time, I can never get enough. I am storing up empty calories for some future crisis which never materializes. I am seeking a warm cave in which to hibernate. I'm noticing how I sleepwalk through my days, a thousand miles from the present moment. I'm noticing how I fuel myself on sugar, caffeine and pot, and then wonder why it is I don't feel well, laboring under the soft, gray cloud that muffles the sweet clarity of all my sharp edges. I'm realizing that I come here and fall apart because it is the one place in the world where I know I can come and fall apart. I can leave my things in piles on the guestroom floor, feed myself as little or as much as I like, stay up all night and sleep all day, and I will never be asked to leave. I'm remembering that oblivion feels eternal when you dwell in its heart, but that the world continues to swing long and lovely loops around the sun. that one way or another, I will find my way to the other side of the planet in something like two weeks time. and from now to then I drift, and eat, and smoke, cry at dumb movies and laugh with my nephews. for this moment in time, I wrap oblivion around me like a blanket. I call it warm. I call it home. I forget to ask for anything more.
(((rings))) |