It’s one of those “everything is broken” days and I’m sorry to the fan who thinks my perspective is depressing. I agree with you. The construction noise is getting to me today. It’s so damn loud and muggy out there. The cats are depressed. Doe is sick again. And my new iphone has stopped working, just gone dead.
It’s come to my attention recently that people do actually read this but I can’t let that stop me from writing what is true for me because that’s the purpose of this thing, so if I’m disillusioning you, again sorry.
Doe’s been sick again and weird too. She had a paranoid episode on the street today. Freaked out and wanted to go home. She’s been glued to me all day (except when I slipped out to get a pedicure — too much information?)
I’m trying to make life work, but you know, It doesn’t. It’s how it is for me and I could make it pretty for you but I won’t. Oprah would say it’s because I’m sending the wrong message to the universe. Sometimes I get into thinking like that and other times not so much. It’s easier when things are easier. What was that expression I had for it? The arrogance of the lucky. Believing you have some sort of control over your fate and that others are doing it wrong. That’s why they get cancer, or hit by cars, or fail at their jobs. Come on. Arrogance of the Lucky.
Got a cold response to my email to the 92Y where I have taken classes and gone to lectures for years. They are so arrogant over there. It’s discouraging and I want to do my workshop there, but the woman who responded to me was rude and superior and who the fu*k is she? It basically kind of ruined my day because they say that those who can’t, teach, but what do those who can’t teach do?
I am teaching now. I’m teaching the workshop at Housing Works and my group is great and I love teaching. I do. I’m great at it, too. Believe it or not. I’m a great teacher and songwriter but I am still going under.
I walk the streets composing my suicide note.
I think about what I will do with the animals and who would be responsible enough to care for Doe. But no one would be and she needs me.
For those of you taking this seriously: Please. I’ve been having these “everything is broken” days for years and I’m still here. Where do you think all those songs come from anyway? Though my mother was voted “most cheerful” in high school, I fell far from the tree. And fell and fell and fell. I’ve written a lot of falling songs, a lot of broken songs. “When are you going to write a happy song?” my mother asked me for years. Well, I’ve no plans to. If it hasn’t happened by now. Damn. It’s not like there’s a shortage. Go listen to happy songs. Why complain to me about it? I’ll write what I want to write and you can listen to it if you want. Or not. I write because I write.
And I teach. Now I teach. My students tell me I’m good. I like it . I like their songs. I like their effort. I respect the challenges. I love being a part of the discovery. The changes they make. I should have had children. Cause it’s the coolest thing to love another person’s work and help them achieve what they want.
But I didn’t have children, the racket out there is deafening and don’t call me because my iphone is broken.