Sometimes you find yourself on the hustle. I have that. Well, a version of that. I do work in the corporate world and i love doing it, my job that is. But there is a sadness that comes with that. Watching people hustle, check phones, rush to meetings, and talk loudly. It’s been going on for two days so far. Don’t know how i feel about it exactly given that maybe I’ve found that rushing up and down and around, constantly on that hustle might not exactly be my cup of tea. Meet with this person. Talk to that person. I don’t do that. Not that i can’t. Not that i won’t. Just find the whole thing disenguouis. A fake. Once that permeates your skull, you smell it all around you. You can escape seeing it. But that’s business. It’s good for someone.
Night before last i got to see a secret Deer Tick show here in Boston. Great to see friends. Get to see my friends from the UK as well. Last night i ate meat too late in the evening, which led to indigestion and insomnia for several hours. Part of getting older i hear. Also in part, treating myself like an asshole. I really should try to be better to this body.
The insomnia, which i don’t have often, leads to a subtle loneliness. Just being awake in a well asleep city has a special unsettling quietness to it. Check your phone. Listen to music. Check your phone. Try an audiobook. Check your phone. Listen to music. Check your phone. For what? Everyone else is asleep too. When i finally propped myself up to fall asleep i was listening to hours of Spanish nouns coming as a slow whisper from my phone. Maybe i was trying to hypnotize myself.
When i drifted off to sleep the dreams weren’t bad. They weren’t good. But they weren’t bad. Lost in oceans of hazy landscapes and people you know saying things you don’t comprehend or remember. I finished this one at a House. Nice house. A big house. But an older house. White, and on a hill, like my aunt Bessie’s house in West Virginia. Well, how it felt anyway. Every room crowded with stuff, old stuff. As i made my way from room to room unsure of what i was looking for. I would hear a whisper, then turn around, only to find the room completely vacant...no stuff. Just the whisper. Room after room, whisper, turn, gone. I sat down at a table, and i heard it again. This time nothing left, and as i turned around my grandmother was standing in the chair behind me, in her nightgown she’d always wear, whispering. I was so elated and so happy and i hugged her. I could hear her, but i said i was sorry for her not being here, and not being able to see her one last time before she died. I cried in the dream and the alarm snapped me awake. Starfish and Coffee, if you were wondering what the alarm was.
I felt good. Oddly resolved but no idea why. Maybe i feel lost here? I don’t really know. Spanish whispers continue, and i think i feel good about today.
