Sunday, April 17, 2011

Will Somebody Please Invent the Scented Record?

Sounds/instruments that I would like to potentially incorporate into music:

Sharp intakes of breath. Sniffs. Slapping/punching water, lightly. Synthetic Pan Flute. Garbled, unsteady whispering. Auto Harp of course. Clicking of a pen. Manual Metronome. Paper ripping.

Second nosebleed this week while I washed my face this morning, an unfortunate format. Smeared my eyes-closed face entirely, presuming it was water. Brain, heart, bowels, all feel clenched small within my frame. Not shriveled, but cowering.

A fleeting heart bleat for my father who broke it, broke it again. Very emotionally heavy for a mother who I miss endlessly, though she lives just down the Interstate 5. I'm simultaneously falling apart and being put together. I know everything will settle. Around me, without me, and not always well. I just don't know when.

I rip paper to stay awake. Mountains and mountains of blank canvases - shredded - follow me all over the hotel. I feed off of the hilarity and ridiculousness that lives inside of me. Who am I? Why do I do these things? Other people drink energy drinks and take several (un)necessary smoke breaks. I rip paper. I dance. I sing to myself. I touch myself hard and all over. (I know what that sounds like, but grabbing and pulling at my skin tends to wake me up.)