wash your hair

hear it in the stairwell: John Mayer
Make myself write something noting nothing has been said at all. It all floats through my mind and mixes in with to-do lists, errands, conversations to be had, people to be called. It mixes in and its importance fades fast to nothing.
I had it, I had it, I really think that this time, I had it. It was there, it was good, it was better than good, it was great. It would have been smart/surprising/funny/compelling/inspiring. It would have been the best thing ever but I lost it thinking about lightbulbs and voicemails. Wish that I could divide myself in two, two parts to make a whole when I wanted to be whole. One half to worry about paying the rent, getting new dog food, getting an oil change, to manage life and its un-tidy scraps. One half to write, to let the ideas flow in and be caputured and wrestled into some coherency. Today and other days, I'm the whole confused person walking down the street inspired and distracted by life.

Jesus on the Radio-Guster

5 a.m., March 16
Jesus on the radio
You took a photograph of me
on your yellow bucket seat
Its too high, its too wide
You're so low you don't know
To get through, to go around
So don't look back
There ain't nothing there to see
Was once like you
Can't say I recognize that face
in that picture that you keep
Its too high, its too wide
You're so low you don't know
To get through, to go around
To get through, to go around