Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. There is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.
There’s a few entries I’ve hidden for this or that reason, so there will be some inconsistencies here and there. I’m beginning to get my habits together again. I had the bookshelves organized by color–but I couldn’t handle it. They needed to return to organization by genre, time period, subject. I can find what I’m looking for again. Michael says I have a bachelor’s fridge now. The two peaches on the countertop are growing soft. I eat them over the sink, I wash them first, and then rip them in half to see what they look like, am careful to chew off and spit out ugly parts. I bought some new soap, some new razors. I bought a new shirt. I ironed my clothes for the week.
Friday night Michael and I got completely trashed at the old hit-or-miss Mint, thanks to that old bartender who seems incapable of making it beyond the first ingredient in any recipe. Sidecar? A glass of brandy. Manhattan? A glass of whiskey. We stumbled home late, I made him up a bed on the floor and we passed out, the thunderstorm knocked out the power a few hours later and I woke up nauseated and unhappy, wondering how in the world I’d manage to be up at 730. But, I sprang out of bed like a puppy, Michael bolted while I showered, and after a quick stop at the drug store for some immodium and ginger ale, Charlie and I were on the road by 830, heading to DC for the concert of the century: Weezer. Free. Sponsored by Microsoft to celebrate the opening of their new store. We listened to Bill Hicks’s Arizona Bay, and all the spoken-word bits of The Who’s Life With The Moons on the way up.
And then the Weezer show. At which Microsoft gave us water and yo-yo’s while we stood in line. Food once we got into the theater. A seat in the fourth row center. Two hours of a DJ and prizes (we didn’t win). And a Weezer concert. I only know their hits…so they played every song I’ve ever heard by them. A great show. I was inspired to become a guitarist.