Tuesday, September 2
It's September, which in the weeks before bluegrass is always somewhere on a jittery continuum between nervous energy, desperation, and unreasonable expectations. CarolAnn just moved from our parents house in Nebraska into the other bedroom, and so my self-medication has stuttered more or less to a halt in the light of my own reflected ridiculousness. I started preparing and eating things other than frozen pizza and peanut butter tortillas on a regular basis since I figure I've got some obligation to keep my siblings alive. Soy derivatives have been involved. I'm reading again, but I couldn't begin to tell you whether I'm getting anything out of it. I've been writing all year, and I'm certain nothing has come of that. I'm trying to remember what people do when they're not watching television, getting drunk, tending in one way or another to somebody they sleep with. People who don't have kids, anyway. I know what the parents are up to, more or less. More or less covers a hell of a lot of ground. I'd go mow the lawn and water the garden, but I don't have either one. Maybe I should change my oil and buy some new guitar strings. What's the difference between self-deception and hope? It's hard to put other people on when nobody gives a shit. Everything is happening all at once and nothing is happening at all. Something is going to change or nothing is going to happen. I can't begin to tell you which I want/fear more or even what scale I'm referencing. And meanwhile there's all this talk about a police state. What could anyone possibly mean by that?