2001-08-12 - 12:17 p.m.
and whoa, here i am! a blank spot to adress all of my wandering floating thoughts of the week! how nice.
and i do have so much to say, really. ah it took so long to get off aim. people of nations far and wide were alerting me with their words and bleeps and buddy icons. so distracting. but now, im all yours, diary.
the trip was fine. there were definitely parts that i despised. there were parts that werent so bad. the bad looming cloud was the whole *no dave* feeling. id sit in my solitude or imagined solitude and wonder what he was doing, what he was thinking, and if maybe, he was thinking of me too. call me fievel, i dont give a damn.
i did a shitload of reading. read all of the horse whisperer in 3 days. my main inspiration was to find the part that carolyn had described as, "3 pages of porn," and therefore found it easy to keep reading even when mired in conversation with the domineering and especially annoying family members. makes me wonder if i should look into a romance novel....? just once... just a dabble... i wont get hooked, of course. i just want a taste, is that so bad? it feels as though im talking about coccaine.
so on the way home, i had no reading to do, and spent the whole time listening to music i had missed and some that was fairly new and some that i hadnt missed at all. i had all day to my dear music. it was quite lovely. i fell back in love with my old son volt cd, and ben harper, and wilco. it had been a while since my "no depression" days. it felt good to be back. i had promised myself that i wouldnt listen to esposito or daves stuff until i got home and had seen him. it so happened though that my cousin became interested in this unheardof musician his cousin was dating, and therefore, longed to listen to his soliloquies. who could blame him? so i put in the ol' ep, and begged myself to not long to be home with the dear boy any more than i already did. somehow, by manage of both willpower and fear, i became callous to the music, and occupied my eyes on books to read and hanging posters to ogle. eric was thoroughly impressed. i managed an "i know," and the fear was over. however, on my way home, i was reminded of how fondly i feel for his music. i remember how at my first esposito show, dave began to sing, and it literally felt like someone i love was tucking me into bed. thats the best way that i can describe it. i felt the covers come up to my chin, and at last i was safe and purely content. it was the same feeling that day in study hall that i first listened to his solo work. i could have cried, but was too relaxed and relieved to cry. no other music has ever made me feel as so. maybe because dave, and esposito, or just the music, was so tangible. these were people that would get lunch money in use of my attendance at the shows, maybe i might even say hello to one of them someday. i was an immediate fan. i was already an acquaintance of seths, and had barely spoken to dave (although knew perfectly the cadence of his step); but to see this, these musicians was overwhelming. the genius of it all.
and now look. i never thought id be such an overt groupie. but now look. well, shit, im not a groupie. im just lucky. damn lucky.
i thought about that today.
i had another dream aobut dave matthews last night. maybe i should get psychoanalyzed. its getting ridiculus.
thats all that i really care to write about tonight. i have more, but i am shot. ill say that reading the horse whisperer made me not only want to learn to ride (as i always have yearned), but even might shine some light on my future plans, career wise. ill talk about it soon.
"youre the reason ive run out of metaphors." my favorite wilco line, ever.
