02/21/04

head.......is.........imploding.
please god, let me remember why i am doing this in the first place.......
make....music.......
make......music.........
must...make.....music......
not to answer phone calls, send press kits and answer endless emails.

it's happening very quickly, and when is there time to pee and take a walk?

my beau has recovered, and all of you who have sent supportive emails and stories are a constant reminder of how humanity overcomes the wickedness of constant internet communique.
he came home form rehab a few days ago and wouldn't fate just turn i's wicked turn and have me going off on endless tour just when i want to bury my head in someone's chest and remain there for a few months.

it's funny, if i had a graph of where my head wanders when it has a moment to wander.

a few years ago it was turns of phrase and theatrical stage sets and songs and songs and the occasional gas bill.
now it's booking agent business agent manager tour rider email phone email when will i maybe have an hour to drive to lexington and visit my family and curl up in a ball and
the piano has turned into a poetic resting place for unlistened-to cds that i buy on a whim.

but that's a lie.

death cab for cutie's new cd "transatlantacism" has played on repeat about 5 times and the lyrics and melodies remind me that music is there, it's there....buried under a pile of business and triumphant after all.