Just after noon, dark sky. Here comes the rain. The whole house is filled with the scent. Thunder and lightening. Hopefully, it won’t strike my house with its new roof.

I’ve come in from the studio after working all morning, improvising on the piano, trying to find a new song. The one from the last couple of weeks doesn’t seem to be coming to anything. I couldn’t stand it suddenly, so tried to just play and sing and record everything, hoping some new bit would reveal itself. I’ve only listened back to about half of what I’ve done. Will head out shortly with a cup of tea to hear the rest. After the rain lets up.

Feeling distracted by the usual. I hate that I do this but can’t seem to control it. I feel as if I can be in or out, but when I’m in, everything else is harder. I would take a pill to stop myself from wanting it if I could. Yes, I’m being deliberately obscure, so why write about it at all? The answer is I can’t write anything if I don’t write first about what’s going on. My head is sick with this stuff. I’m completely obsessed. It’s exactly the same as it always gets. I hold on for as long as I can until I lose it, freeing myself to return to life, then missing it every waking moment. Hell.

I’ve been thinking about that movie with Jim Carey and Kate Winslet. What is it called? A long title. I’d like to see it again. Something Something Spotless Mind. That’s what I need. The memory eraser. I want to be free of my own thoughts. I want to not do this. Maybe I should have myself hypnotized.

It’s madness, but it passes. If I can just let it pass without doing anything. If I can wait it out until yoga tonight, then talking to Meryl after. But the time feels so wasted. And I feel terribly guilty about my inability to do anything other then spin and spin. Terrible anguish.

Okay, back to work. Back to the studio, back to the song fragments waiting to be uncovered and built upon. Just another day. Not the last chance to get it right. Although you never know. Hector Zazou died the other day. I got an email. Working with him in Paris feels like a long time ago. Now he’s gone.

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2 Responses to Rain

  1. petethepop says:

    Hi Lori,

    normally I don’t get into this sort of thing, however this entry in your blog brought to mind a beautiful experience from ~10 years ago.

    Ray Anderson is at the top of the first tier of our world’s jazz trombonists, and also an excellent vocalist. When his wife was dying of breast cancer, they had a private party in a large hall, attended by ~200 people. This was the last time many of us saw her. Ray and his band played. The high point was when Ray played and sang the song “Comes Love, Nothing Can be Done”. It talks about all the things in life that happen that we can deal with, one way or another. But comes love, nothing can be done. In Ray’s voice, on his face, in his body language,… In every way he was radiating love in that most difficult circumstance. The way he had released himself to his love shone thru in every moment of that performance/sharing. Seeing and feeling that changed me a bit.

    The point here is that at some level there is nothing to be done but accept one’s passion. This passion, this obsession, is a wonderful thing. The intensity of this passion is a measure of one’s commitment to the purification that love brings. The pain comes from wiggling on the hook. When you stop wiggling and just accept the beautiful inevitable wonder of the experience it becomes less painful, actually can become a joy that you will revel in. It is the simplest thing, and like so many simple things also the most difficult. The attachment diminishes, the joy and love deepens. Don’t fight yourself. Just embrace it. It is normal, and it is OK. It is one of the most honorable aspects of the human condition.

    Apologies for what ever presumption/insensitivity/ignorance emerges from what I wrote here

    With best wishes, and great appreciation for your artistry,

  2. al says:

    hi Lori!

    the movie is “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind” *wink*

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