a photo my mother sent me from somewhere in Sonoma County
I woke up this morning just in time for a 9:45 meeting. I made coffee, smoked a cigarette, and began to brainstorm with Quinn on FaceTime. Quinn hosted at the restaurant I work at before enrolling at NYU last fall. It dawned on me sometime last spring that she possessed qualities which could be helpful in my pursuit of a career in music. She’s organized, professional, mature, poised, and also a concise communicator. As a staff, we all adored her, and when she went off to college, we were sad to see her go. No one has filled her shoes since.. In my humble opinion.
We had a great meeting, as always, but after the call, a dull lack of motivation surfaced, and I spend the afternoon at home oscillating between my bed, the bath, my phone and my guitar. In the bath, some strange stanza came to me: I am just another / In a sea of choking others / I keep running to the bathroom / ‘Cause I don’t wanna be discovered / If it’s true that you are holy / If it’s true that you could hold me / Maybe now might be a good time / Maybe now could be the time …
For a couple hours, I felt that miserable creeping depression coming on. This time, coupled with anger. I have always been really emotionally chaotic and I’m learning how to live with that. It will pass. It always does. It’s good for me to live alone and have time to process. In the past, I have made a terrible live-in partner and I sometimes wonder if that will ever change.
I got a coffee at 5pm and walked to Russian Hill. Fresh air and coffee and smoking always feels good. On my way back home, I got a call from my sibling. We were talking about life’s various disappointments and I was informing them about some recent positive lifestyle changes I’ve made. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, they said, “I feel sad right now. Do you feel that?”. It hit me like a wave. “Yeah,” I replied, “I feel very sad”. We hung up and I cried outside my apartment. I still feel very raw. It’s clear to me now that I spent the day evading my emotions. I feel extremely sad and I don’t know why. I thought about my dad and my life and my songs.
These are the days worth documenting. The ones that feel inconsequential and heavy. The days where grief and all the lives I’ve lived seem to pay me a visit. And at the same time, my inner critic is so loud. Nobody reads this. Nobody cares. You are nothing but a dreamer. This blog and my efforts to continue to share my music are a practice in quieting those thoughts. It’s okay to have an off day, week, month, season. It’s okay to be vulnerable even if it feels like nobody’s listening.
I’m going to hit record and continue writing before dinner.