all weekend(some of it)
The stress of a fragmented week found its peak on Friday evening after work, when I found myself sitting in the basement with a taken-apart bike, crying in frustration. I cried harder because I had black dirt and grease all over my hands up to the wrists and couldn’t shove the tears away. Fixing the bike was just snapping the back of a camel with already-shaking legs. I called Katie and broke down again, trying to explain the anonymous dread and stress eating at my heart but of course I couldn’t find the words to fit best, and so gave up. She kept calm which I love her for, told me to just walk to her place and meet up for the Bob Log show. I said okay and then went to the mirror and told myself okay and made myself clean up, get ready, and go.
Katie, Carrie and I split a giant bottle of wine and talked for a few hours before walking to the pub. I love those ladies, I do. We arrived during the Wye Oak set with warm bellies and a slight buzz from the Yellowtail bottle(left behind on Katie’s kitchen table, empty). I found the Wye Oak set to be downright inspiring. I fell for every song they played.
Oh, Bob Log.
I moved right up to the front after Scott Biram played—I wanted a good view, I wanted thatview.
He approached the stage from the back of the room, already playing the guitar, helmet on. He started in a suit…
…and after the first song, split open his outfit to reveal the classic Bob Log jumpsuit:
A couple guys next to me were drunkenly flailing, grabbing each other’s arms and waving them around in some abstract, alcohol-soaked form of puppetry. None of my pictures would come out completely clear(nucleus or not, the swarm of shoving did little to keep me steady, plus Log himself is constant movement).
However, I did my duty of putting a boob in the scotch. And yes, I owned the left leg of Mr. Log during his song “I Want Your Shit on My Leg”
So yes my Friday went from a tragedy to a victory in one single act of sucking it up, getting out of the house, enjoying my ladyfriends, and seeing some live music. A prescription that never fails.
After the show, we went back to Katie’s house and shared tofu scramble, passed around the guitar and crashed. The next day I found myself awake at 7am, so I went to the kitchen and played Katie’s guitar quietly, practicing chords and doing the major scale over and over again by the window. I cannot tell you how peaceful, how perfect, this moment was.
I kept the healed feeling all weekend, breathing more like myself than I have in some time. Whatever the week sucked out of me, the weekend shoved it back. Took the bike to Kraynick’s and fixed the wheel, a victory. Experienced Spak Brothers for the fourth time in one week. Joel and I ran into my favorite apothecary in Friendship, and he recommended the movie Future By Design(now I recommend it too). Futurist Jacques Fresco is onto something, has been onto something for quite some time. Granted, I still wanted to know “how-how-how” by the end of the film, but he made a very solid point about the limits of our thoughts, due to what we are indoctrined to believe about limits and what is possible. It is an endless, beautiful unraveling once you start thinking about that “thought box” and what means lay beyond it. So thanks to my favorite “apothecary,” Nathan, for the wonderful suggestion.
Perhaps more later. I feel like I’ve had a lot on my mind, and thus have a lot to say/write/type about, but at the same time there is so much of it that feels better anonymous, private, off the grid.
The clouds are moving fast today. I woke up with my hands laced together. I’ve been losing myself in the exquisite writing of Bruno Schulz. And more, and more.