Surprisingly Relaxing
S was in SF seeing John Adam’s Dr. Atomic 0pera while I was in Dallas seeing Opeth – this from band’s website:
“I met David Isberg sometime during the same time I did Eruption. We were into this skateboard thing, you know? All of us were having a fucking skateboard. Anyway, he was really into extreme music as well, and I guess I owe it to him that I like this music so much. He really sparked my interest when he loaned me the Mefisto demotape called “The puzzle”! I was awestruck! They had cool solos, grim vocals, acoustic guitars, everything! I thought they were way better than most Death metal records I had bought.”
The crowd was entertainment in and of themselves from the hook em horns unison screaming for Opeth to the young couple in front of me, laconic and slumping, but occasional outbursts of intense affection. P had a bandstand and a bench in front so no one blocking his view. I couldn’t stop the vertical assent but we switched to club soda and that helped neutralize me again. We meandered to a red painted bar, Reno’s, and found just what we were looking for – bustiers and blonde wig bartenders, a red sequined honey shaking for a man who looks like the only thing he brought to the table was his wallet, an eclectic crowd, back room with poorly improvised table dancing considering it was coffee table height but the girl with the shooters kept hiking her bustier up to show her sexy black panties. Found a girl for P but in order to get close would have had to bum a cig and start that whole chestnut and so wasn’t looking to go down that road with my sensitive lungs having suffered so the past week.
Refugee ranch cabin fever spiked but again Opeth was suprisingly relaxing and Reno’s was awesome, our new fav bar, and all in all sky rockets in the night. Opeth ranged from sweet to devil’s music – clearly what the devil has in mind if you were to go out with him and hear music but then it switches back and forth so always leaves you a little off step.
Was not ready to come home but N was so I slunked in behind him and went to bed and stared at the ceiling. Sky rockets in the night and no where to go. The moon was like a big lazy eye – N’s description – but it might as well have been full for the howling that could have taken place.
In the constant search for adult pop lyrics – “my dream is to be able see you as you are – no more no less” – trying to picture what kind of music to accompany, possibly sweet maybe even just a strumming guitar. How about the head banger song – “what can I do for you” – or the longer ballad of “here are my goals tonight” – but then there is always the darker lyrics – “you will be disappointed by what I am thinking” – which should be accompanied by some sort of sparse stringy instrument that winds down like a Chinese opera.
Meanwhile, last day and night in Arlington. We leave tomorrow for New Orleans. S and I will stay at N’s house while she and B stay at the camp, and then N, V and W go to Jena. L is back to warehouse district. Arlene will feel so lonely without Zeus to play with 24/7. I’ll miss W being around since I won’t be getting him from school as both parents are home. Wish we were going to the Can to sleep in our own bed but that looks like it might not happen for a while. Might end up in Betsy’s house on Soniat and Camp as an interim solution. We have been living in the interstitial spaces for so long we might forget how to reenter cosmos and be normal.
S called yesterday and remarked that I sounded like I was in a better place than I have been – not hinging – she’s always advising me not to hinge – so yes, I guess, I am not hinging but still not getting anywhere with any of anything. Return and rebuild is the new marching order, proceed with love is underlying but not fully realized, I’ve lost the ability to discern my path from whatever it is that is pushing me forward.
In some ways I’m ruined – there’s no return to before, there is no place to hang my hat so it is this constant unknown.
But the strangeness is everywhere – got this note from J today – “you know what i love about creative writing and discussions…there is no compliance, other than verb context, punctuation and spelling. i hate the rules. but sometimes they are helpful…called 9-11 for the first time last night when some guy in street clothes showed up at our house at 9:30PM flashing a badge asking about some woman he thought was in our house…said he was a detective from Los Angeles…had no idea who we were…weird communication…no car visible..told me he could come right in the house if he wanted to…said you dis respecting me?…I shut the door on him..911..cops came turned out he was legit…just awkward and out of his hood.”
In the end Editor’s Notebook was doomed from the get go.