Sheesh. Days like today make no sense to me. I woke up with a migraine this morning. So my day is pretty much over before it starts. I’m at work, squinting under the flourescents even though they are no brighter than normal. They sure feel like it. I’m not sure how long I’m going to last today.

I have a craving for citrus and a weird olfactory thing happening with the scent of margaritas and garlic. I can’t stop smelling it in the air.

Sure I’ve had them for 19 years now but I still hate them. This bullshit pain makes me panic, makes me depressed, makes me feel dumb and kind of useless. Like a giant blank spot of something in my head that I can’t get my thoughts to see around. I really cannot stand what this does to me. To my days, to my life. Chronic migraines make it so hard to feel normal.

No drought in the clouds; they have fashioned themselves into step of stairs between two shingle planes, stabbed onto telephone wire. Blissful be not still, only cars on the street and even they could be figments. I think I’d rather exist in vibration–finding sentences still just buds under tongue. Time to take care of them til they are well enough to get out on their own.

I went to a house show in Polish Hill on Friday night. Anita Fix played in the basement. As usual, they blew my mind. I love these guys. Such great friends. Amazing, humble, and oh so talented.

Friday: 1 US Soldier, 163 Iraqis Killed; 214 Iraqis Wounded

Saturday: 2 US Soldiers, 171 Iraqis Killed, 289 Wounded

I smell like the bar and soon I’ll be asleep. An evening spent slinging beers and listening to music, high-fiving guest appearances by friends and daydreaming like a champion. There are new poems to finish and practice and holes in the toes of both Sauconys, but they are still rock-able, still doing their job. I’m on the edge of something and edges are edges and scary because that’s what they are–the tail end/the very beginning of two different things, and I am the constant transitioning from one, to two. I’m not sure what will happen next, and if I did know, there wouldn’t be a thing to do different. There are always the brief thoughts of I should be this I should be that but really, we are only ourselves and that’s all we’ll ever need. Whether we are convinced of this, or not, it is true. And so it goes, as Vonnegut said. You can cower in the light, but what falls on you? Is still light. Why not stretch as far as limbs can go, be warm and absorb, shine back like madness. Create, love, be a little ridiculous, or a lot. Whatever it takes.

So come on whatever is next. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

Thanks to The Wiz clip, I’m now on a bit of a Michael Jackson tirade. Holy canoli can that man dance.

In honor of that, I’m posting all the parts of my personal favorite, The Making of Thriller(thanks, youtube):

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One of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies, The Wiz.

225 Iraqis, 1 US Soldier, 3 US Contractors Killed; 538 Iraqis Wounded

A young e.e. cummings

A fire by my house around 7:30pm. Leah pointed it out to me–I guess I tune out sirens a lot more now, because I didn’t notice the blast of fire trucks arriving. I live across the street from the hospital, so my immunity to those sounds must be building. Anyway, a fire. All of the front doors on all of the houses on my street popped open, one after the other. Little heads peeking out, faces. The woman in the house to my left said, “I knew my water pressure was low!” and then she took off down the street to the scene of the blaze, kind of half-running, half-walking. Very late for a very important date, apparently. Later Nick would mention the parents coming to watch the fire, who brought their children to see it as well. I guess everyone loves a good fire. I just couldn’t bring myself to be that interested.

In other news, the book the book the book. Shifting some pieces, making it work. Reading reading reading as if for the first time again. Getting ready to push them out of the nest. I think a release show would be nice, when the time comes. Although I must admit the idea makes me feel a little awkward, like I want to look down at shuffling feet kind of kicking at rocks like aw shucks. I like the idea of sharing the words that way, finding some writers to read at said event, etc. That will be a fun process. And! Maybe there will be tacos. Okay now I’m excited.