October 11th, 2013

2013, cyd, new

My tweets

2013, cyd, new

something something sick and weeping

everything is making me cry. i think i'm more sick in the head than the body. i don't know. i can't stop sleeping. i can't sit up. it takes too much effort. my head weighs 400 pounds. some music will make me feel better.

i worked on my rug today, but not much. i didn't do any writing. yet. i'm still hoping i snap out of this as the night goes on. doc is asleep now and i have the laptop back.

i've decided to stop with the political activism on twitter and facebook. there is no point. i'll keep my views between us, and doc and kelli. here, i have the room to explain my feelings and talk them out with a white page. instead of sharing a link or being limited to 140 characters. i really don't see the point of twitter anymore. it's an international popularity contest. you aren't there to expose yourself to other cultures or ways, you're there to impress people. fuck all that.

oh wow, i'm finally listening to some rare Big Country live material that i got a hold of. great stuff. why am i obsessed with people who are dead? i've always been in love with Big Country, but now that Stuart Adamson is dead, it seems i'm Really Loving them. and the authors i like, all recently dead. or Rollins. who may as well be dead, he's so inaccessible. (i spelled that right on the first try!) i went through this with U2 in the 80's and that seems to be the last time i really liked something alive. since then it's all been Sid and Nancy and Bukowski.

i have made an absolute mess of the living room with my rug project. i took all the brightly colored yarn out of the bags and mixed them all up in a pile, which the cats spent the day romping through. then there's the box of yarn, surrounded by bags of yarn. and another blank canvas, with which i will make a rug of muted colors to go in the living room. all spread out. i really have to pick all that up. except for the pile and the canvas i am working on.

i am completely wrapped in wires. this laptop is barely a laptop anymore. it has so many things connected to it at any one time. the track ball, blue max, and headphones. either mine or doc's but always headphones. and you sit down and arrange the wires one way, and then put the laptop on your actual lap and suddenly you are entangled in cords cables and wires.

i want to read about mormon history. i have an ancestor who was involved in some pretty nefarious stuff in the name of the church and is now hailed as a hero. there's a statue of him in SLC. i want to know more about him and more about this origins of the thing that so dominated and ruined my young life.

with all my recent weeping, i think i need to change the TV channel, Philadelphia is on. not the most uplifting flick. news, droning on. i woke up to some fucked up movie, doc can wake up to talking heads.

there is this park in pittsburgh, it's called North Park. it is huge. my life centered around that park for the latter part of the 80s and early part of the 90s and it's been on my mind a lot recently. the huge annual pride picnics; hanging out near the little church and big graveyard on the swings under the huge trees with Jeff Rizzo and talking and smoking for hours; driving around and through the park getting high; sun bathing on the big hill overlooking everything deciduous. i miss that park. there is nothing to compare. i tried to replace it with Valley Forge when i lived in philly, but that didn't do it, quite. and out here, of course, there is nothing at all that can compare with the miles and miles of trees and shrubs and overgrowth and picnic nooks and lake and streams and oh! and i have no pictures of it at all. i want to go back and visit pittsburgh and go back to that park.

but just like disneyland, i can't go back. i've been keeping up with recent disneyland events and videos and pictures and announcements and the place is nothing like i remember. at least not that i can see from the media i've been seeing. i have to go there, and inspect the place. but i can't go back to the place in my memories, it just isn't there anymore. maybe that's why i like the dead, they don't change on you. they stay the same. they don't come out with a romance book or a country or rap record. you can depend on them to be the same as when you left them.

see how i circled back to that? didn't think i could. frankly, it just happened.

i'm going to go listen to my dead Scot and play on pinterest.