When I lived in Las Vegas with my cousin Kimball, we had a good time. We hung out pretty much all the time. I actually listed his phone number on work applications because I did not have a phone of my own. One my favorite things about hanging out was the recording studio he had set up in his bedroom, and the countless number of hours we spent speaking, singing, and occasionally yelling… well mostly I did the yelling, but he endorsed it. Anyway, I wrote a lot during that period in my life. It was nice really nice to be able to have an outlet. I have since then pretty much stopped. My notebook was taken hostage in Las Vegas, and I never paid the ransom. As a result, some of what are in my mind my most genius scribblings, have been lost. I never really recovered from that. I used to write occasionally… my wife has bought me a couple of notebooks over the last years, and I have only managed to fill about 3 pages... mostly laments about how I wish I could think of something worth writing down.
I started the idiotbook. This has been the extent of my creations. Occasionally I get a little bummed because I feel like I have lost the ability to express some of my ideas in any fashion besides yelling and banging stuff at work or writing as done in the book over the past… 2 going on 3 years… wow.
Anyway… the other night I was at John’s house and he played some stuff he had been working on. I got pumped. We talked a little bit about what he has been and about working together and all sorts of stuff. I was so pumped about it that I dreamt about it last night.
In my dream I was driving home from work, workshopping in the car, and had a simple but sweet line come into my mind. I was so pumped that I pulled over and looked for my book in my bag in order to write it down, but realized that I had been late for work, and left my bag at home. I went home and went into my new (we just moved to Salt Lake and it still feels kind of new) room. I grabbed my bag and dumped it out on my floor so I could get to my book and write the line down and work with it… it was nothing more than a hook as it was, but I liked it and wasn’t about to lose it. My book wasn’t in my bag… *okay, work with me here… I am giving you directions*: Hold your hands out kind of like you are about to juggle… arms to your side, elbows about ninety degrees, palms up, fingers spaced, and relaxed. Now look straight up at the ceiling, yell “ARGGGGGHHHH!!!! WHY IS IT NOT HERE!!!” and slowly ball your hands into fists while pulling them closer to your body and tensing up every muscle you can until you begin to shake. That is how upset I was in my dream. I did this exercise with the intention of aiding your ability to empathize with the utter frustration I experienced in my dream at this point. Moving on, I remembered after this moment of fury that my book was still packed in a box because of the move, and because I had not been writing very frequently. I started tearing through boxes, and could only find index note cards and napkins and nothing to write with. After completely turning my room upside down, and mumbling the line to myself the whole time so I wouldn’t forget, I jotted it semi-legibly on a napkin with a dry erase marker from my calendar… I couldn’t find any pens either. I then woke up, remembered the line, looked my nightstand, and saw my book where my loving wife had placed it. *side note *Even though I have not written in years, my wife still puts my book on my nightstand, just in case one day I may feel like writing again. I have always just left it there, having noted in my mind that that is the place it goes. Occasionally it gets knocked off or moved, one time I put it in a backpack. It found its way back to the nightstand, not by my hands. I love my wife. *end note* There was a pen in the desk, and I wrote it down and was able to add a bit more to it in the same sitting. Awesome.
Long story short, I wrote today. I am pumped. I know this may be a little strange for the first post in way too many days, but I don’t care. I wrote today… twice now I guess… and I am happy about it.
-p
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