totally...

what a strange evening.

the usual tuesday night at the bar, but it was strange. everybody seemed, i don't know, solemn, or something, myself included. it's been a heavy few days maybe. maybe for everyone, not just me. i went out to my mom's for a couple of days on the weekend. yard work. spring cleaning. digging up dirt and dead grass and loading it onto the compost heap. two days, out in the sun, sore muscles, cracking joints, a bit of color. i hated it. i loved it. i slept for twelve hours one night. god, i must have needed it. my mom's hair is starting to grow back. we were talking a bit about her treatment, her chemo, and how she's tired all the time, can't do any work, sleeps a lot, is groggy. she said it's like she's lost a year of her life. then, she corrected herself, and said no, it's like she's invested a year of her life into getting better, so that she'll be around for a lot longer. i thought that was smart.

i ran into a couple of old friends on the weekend. so much weirdness lately with people. people are getting married. people aren't getting married. people are having kids. people's parents are winning a million dollars in the lottery.

"don't let money change you..."

the rules have changed. i guess inside entertainment liked the shit i did for their grammy issue, so we've been talking about getting me on board to do some regular record reviews, which is cool. i can't say i can't use the extra cash, but the truth is, reviewing some ex-destiny's child singer's new solo album is not something i can really get very excited about. when i was writing my old column, people would send me cds, now they're like "you can come by the office and listen to it." i can't sit in somebody's conference room and listen to some snippet cd and write a review of an album i don't really care about. sure, i could eat the free sandwich, and i can never get enough coffee, but really, i need to hear something a few times before i'm going to voice any sort of an opinion, even if the opinion i'm being asked to give is really a sort of non-opinion. it ain't like it used to be. we'll see how it is.

i almost fainted at work today. fuck, forgot to eat all day. crouched down at a table to talk to a dude i know, and when i stood up and started to walk away, my head got light, and the light got dark. here i am, in the middle of a crowded bar, serving drinks, and i'm standing there with a handful of empty glasses, holding onto the wall, trying not to pass out in front of my customers. luckily, there was an empty chair beside me, i managed to sit in the chair before i fell to the floor. spent a good thirty seconds fighting to stay conscious. i should eat. i'm sure of it. that would have been fucked.

good news? i guess there is some. i talked to emma at mudscout today, and things are moving forward on the book. slowly, but almost surely.

sometimes i hate being bipolar. today was a rollercoaster, and my mind is exhausted. i woke up to a world of pain, then raced through it with my friends coffee and cigarettes. was feeling fucked and low, then got a random phone call to have coffee with an old new friend, and felt great after that conversation. rode a wave of good feeling into work, then proceeded to fall back into a grey blanket of loneliness and apathy. i think i might need the pills. fuck, i don't want to admit it, but sometimes, it's just too much. i'm just scared they'll change me, and despite my self-loathing, i love being me. or, more correctly, i think i've just finally gotten used to being me, and the thought of being somebody else is just frightening.

i don't know how somebody can be so cold. it's baffling.

this bar has never been so quiet.

i wrote some rhymes today, i got to work early, sat at a table, and pulled out my book, and my pen, and wrote. it had been too long. so much going on, throwing myself into so many things... i've got to book my tour, deal with my book, work on magazine shit, figure out the album release, organize my film shoot, get things straight to shoot my video, this that and the other... but no, what i should be doing is saying fuck the world and creating things. but then again, what's the point of making music, or writing a damn book, or filming a movie, if you don't press cds, play shows, get the damn thing published, or edit the footage that's been collecting dust on your bookshelf? find time to do it all, it's the only way. sunshine superman. superlungs my supergirl. jack of all trades. renaissance man. master of the fucking universe. learn how to paint, ryan. blow your own mind, ryan, fuck everyone else's.

"will i ever stop thinking about it? i don't know, i doubt it."

i've got two months to live the last ten years of my life, and two more months to live the next ten.

how can a man whose sole desire is most at odds with his own known destiny ever hope to find the silence in which to make the most noise? can you ever really be heard when you speak in so many different languages?

the hardest part is the darkness,
so indulgent,
massaging my scars and i'm just getting started,
when the mind is cloudy,
the sky is starless,
so i'm holding on for all the damn times that i lost it,
and afterthought,
like adding a slice of lime to a vodka tonic,
or breaking the ice,
when i'm already walking on it,
so close to death,
he called me over,
i froze in my steps,
how can i hold it together when i don't know where it went?
but once you know where you've been,
start growing into your skin,
and i can't do this again,
i could barely do it then,
so burn all the paper,
while i bloody the pens,
i thought about you,
before i ever knew who you were,
and i still don't,
and neither do you,
it's beautiful...