phone a friend
pick up prescription
3 work on tune Standard of a Crow – I was lying in bed last night and all of a sudden (this does not happen very often) I could hear all the instrument parts – guitar, octave mandolin, dulcimer and ukelele for the song – and what I should have done was got up immediately and worked on it but Jeff had been out cold for ’bout two hours at that point so that would have been rude, but I have i d e a s.
4 usual stuff on the daily list, and maybe a small shop, my bocconcini deficit is too much and here’s me thinking I’d keep my mouth shut about chichi food.
5. gotterdam I have to restring both guitars awwwwwready because I have beaten them to shit with my unrestrained whackdoodleries. There is much whack! there is constant doodlery! Jeff says he can’t hear the melodies, just me whacking the assortiment of twangy boxes in the basement
6 re cleaning: it’s all about staging and it makes me incredibly anxious and as an activity, it’s drowning in guilt and shame from unresolved ADD stuff. It’s toxic to my relationships and destructive to my mental health not to deal with it, but honestly only SOCIAL THREAT can motivate me to clean. I have recognized this about myself in the past but the learning doesn’t stick. I keep walking past the same dinosaur shit at the theme park of me, over and over again, because candidly the place ain’t that big, and saying, “WOW dInosaur shit, lookee hyar, hey, this is amazing!” It doesn’t matter how many times I see it, the lesson never sticks. It needs to stop being a lesson and start being a habit, but it takes a special desperation to think it possible to make the life you really envision for yourself out of the rags of what you’ve made of it already, in the middle of plagues and droughts and locusts and floods and fires. That or just my own special dopeynesse.
head in the clouds: