Monday, July 18, 2011

Just For Fire Starters

Sunday, July 18, 2011

I’m blind. I’m staring down the row of coffeeshop booths at the Spyhouse on Nicollet Ave, and cannot make out a single face. The colors blur to large spots, the lights overlap the spots into fading details, and it all isn’t tragic enough for me to care- it’s the writing- the damn writing that has to get done.

With the mixtape almost finished, I haven’t been able to function on a normal schedule. Staying up ‘til 3am on the regular and waking at 9am hasn’t been kind to working out, photoshopping posters for upcoming shows, or garnering the ambition to go to the hospital and order new contacts. The contacts I had in were month-long… I think. The damn things turned rogue, started watering my eyes to red blots… meh, it’s the behavior that’s gone rogue, more so. Since the return from Milwaukee, my perspective’s turned from “gainful employment is the only answer to the next few months” to “let’s spend as little time as possible working for anyone else, and entrepreneur this bitch to the sky”. Websites, merch, an online hustle beyond any man-hours I could put in at the restaurant- the hurt is in knowing what you want, knowing how to do it, knowing where to go, but constantly facilitating a balance so as to keep the foundation from slipping out from underneath you. The foundation you built out of a sheer compassion for what you love to do, and being at the general mercy of your own work.

So as the contacts have already rotted out of my misshapen-stigmatism-ridden eyeballs, and I pass up several people I can’t make out (but would have had I been able to see), the only thing in front of me is the work- the laptop and the notebook. The song I’ve been writing/trying to write with a feature from Mayda and an array of clickable links to construct a wordpress site relative to a learning brail. Like I said, I’m blind.

The words come to me like random facebook friend-suggestions. The song’s title is “Freedom Cobra” and if that doesn’t make sense to you, then you’ll never get it (i.e. go watch Aqua Teen HungerForce… now). The past weekend passed swiftly. They all have since Milwaukee. When your work lies on the weekend, it seems to have an inverse effect than having a day-job. Your mind routes the days differently than if you were actually anticipating the weekend… as opposed to organizing it.

The words begin to dry-up. The process of assembling a song has been more daunting than ever. Not only are there lyrics I have reverberating off the walls of my skull, but there are too many stories. I’ve fashioned the challenge to myself to document at least one a day, as if to routine it into the frequency I’ve been running as well. Christ, a woman passed Henry and I on Lake Nokomis two days ago. I sped up to pace with her… but Henry dragged the leash like a reluctant car with a flat tire. The damn dog struggled. I caught fire in frustration for a moment, but then remembered Henry’s a straight g to the tune that we’ve run in 20-below weather, and 110 degree weather whenever I’ve asked it of him.

So as the writer’s block fits itself nicely between any connection I have to my pen, I let the lack of vision guide my next move… It’s nice like this. I’ll have to find my glasses later, but for now this’ll do.

1 comment:

  1. ..." entrepreneur this bitch to the sky...". Nice sant!