words have been slow, and absent
or not even
ideas are sticky: a pastiche of desire that I am unable to assemble.
… so I’ve been crying less. but I’m adjusting to new meds like that arc in a hungover morning (which is actually the afternoon), when you crave some kind of sustenance which couldn’t possibly be food (because: your stomach) and is probably ‘life’, and so you eat hash browns.
not in an overwhelming way. just … I don’t get most things done. and, like, I hardly care.
I’ve feathers and sequins and a few good friends and, when my nails are dry, I can crawl back into bed and listen to Lou Reed until sometime later tonight. when Will and I are going into public to dudewatch and be awesome.
Talking Heads - this must be the place (naive melody)
someone dropped this at a party I was at the other night, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t even me.
I hardly remember … I was either standing in the hallway, disengaged from whatever conversation I was having and—nonchalantly—mouthing the words (like the trendiest of mad hipsters); or going wild for it on the makeshift dance floor (like an attack of rad).
from my uncertainty, I can only suppose it was the latter.
so I have undertaken to create an of Montreal ‘best of’ mix for a friend.
doing this is—for me—a bit like trying to arrange the shots in a bottle of tanqueray in order of preference. interestingly, paste blogged their own of Montreal list this morning. but theirs reads—more than much else—like an attempt to prove the author knew-about-the-band-before-they-were-cool (or whatever).
and I am totally intent. I had some pretty grand ideas about arranging things thematically, which I’ve pretty much had to abandon. because selecting only twenty-three songs requires so much compromise.
but I’ve still a little way to go …
today, my hipster-approved organic healer stuck my arms full of needles to help my RSI and to further my developing awesomeness. I am also very bruised. I felt there was an interesting and diverting story in that, but I’ve just read someone else’s amusing anecdote and I don’t think I can match it for blogability.
so I’ve started seeing this rad osteopath-nutritionist-alternative-therapy guy who specialises in helping-people-get-their-shit-together.
and maybe it seemed like a better idea before I’d seen the cupping bruises all over my back and neck, and before I’d smelled the the mad-healthy, Chinese herbal shit he wants me to drink.
four times a day.
but I am actually pretty pumped. and looking forward to being healthier and learning more effective ways to harness my awesomeness.
seriously, though. you should smell this tea. ugh.