you won't cross my mind & i'll get over you ... over time" |
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Saturday, Oct. 14, 2006 @ 12:27 am I've got to be up at 7, but sleep isn't interesting me tonight. Mainlining Lucinda Williams, Live @ the Fillmore ... trying not to listen to Overtime again & again & again. Failing miserably. Can't wait to see her live next month, ah, imagine that'll be some fucking show. Took my sister to check out Donavon Frankenreiter last night, he opened for Gov't Mule. His set was delightful & we boogied in the pit with about 40 other people. I was happy that all of his songs but three were from his first album ... haven't picked up his latest release yet & it felt so nice to sing along & shake my moneymaker along with such positive feeling grooves. Reading through my last few entries depressed me terribly. The entire thing depresses me. When did it become an alright thing for my life to be filled with drama? So much more is going on, but I'm not interested in writing about it or thinking about it either. I am mentally & physically exhausted & can't wait to have a day off & just hike around the mountain. Immerse my soul in that silence that only the high country seems to possess. Sunday. "i don't want to talk, i just want to go back to blue" She's the female equivalent of Tom Waits. Something TOO real about the feel of her voice & the raw words & the way they wrap around each other with no audible seams. Spent my evening cleaning. Strangely cleaning, dusting nail polish & scrubbing walls. Laundry & dishes & rearranging the pantry. Sorting through piles of mail & bills & pay-stubs & receipts & postcards & junk & well, nesting I suppose. Wandering around my big ol' house looking for dirt. My dreams have been intense lately. I keep dreaming about Bryan. Almost every night. I assure you all it's unintentional & unwanted, but it's happening anyhow. I will be 33 on Tuesday. His birthday is the following Wednesday. That's the kind of shit I wish I could forget. Stupid shit. Like his fucking birthday. My dreams fill me with dread. Sadly I can't tell if it's the dread that I'll never talk with him again or dread that my mind finds ways to inject the thought of him into the only few hours of peace I get. I could babble on all night, but there's work tomorrow. There's work always. There may be new work on the horizon, new work that would make me a happy little girl. Work that would surround me with words all day long & that ... oh, that methinks would be stupendous. Thank you all for your lovely words & concern, I do cherish you righteously. :blowing my speakers: Lucinda Williams ~ Overtime
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