Well.. yea it is possibly crazy

I'm sitting in my apartment in Hiroshima, Japan. It's really a vacant commercial space in the heart of the commercial district, the Hondori. This is a very precious bit of space, valued at some 300,000 yen per month, it is owned by the father of my Japanese fiance, Miss guerilla. It's empty as of now.. except myself and Miss Guerilla who, through her artifice and my disregard for people's opinions, have occupied and created an improviso kitchen and sleeping space via a borrowed tent and various camping gear which we were using on island beaches in September.

The father, Yukinobu... not impressed with me. We had a great time when I first arrived. Something happened which neither I, nor Ysitta are aware of. There are a lot of possibilities which I've given up on calculating. Tadashi, the gay, inarticulate, but concise 40 year old brother described my meeting with her father as, "It seemed like he found his other son". I'll find a way to bridge the gap. Making love to his daughter in a consistent, ongoing manner being part of the core of my plan. These sorts of things always work! It's simple though. Her family is crazy. Really. So I've stopped worrying about it. It will work, they don't have a choice and the will of Ysitta and I is volumetrically more powerful than that of her parents disgust, or any other detractors from the cause. And our likely half-Japanese child is sure to draw some relaxing of barriers.

I've been drinking a live ferment sake and wandering the city. I stopped through the Peace Park with a guitar and played under the bridge. This is an amazing spot where at night it is lit like a stage and the acoustics are fab. Another musician, young Japanese, stopped through and showed a fair amount of amazement at what I was singing and playing. So I was playing a little show under a bridge in Hiroshima. I love it. I also realize I have most of what I need to put my music career together. What is left is competent folks to write and play with. OK

I'll take my drunkish ass to the watering hole.

All Godot All the Time

Free myself. Free myself instead of waiting for someone or some event to free me. I’m ready. It’s time. I want it to happen. I’m closing down everything, every open cycle, every door opened and aired. Multiple lines of action moving to some nearby point of culmination. Little things, they must be signs; Mark leaving town. Shari’s washer should be fixed soon. I’ve got no real place to live. Warehouse is cleaned and emptied. Things are stored. Everything is ready, everything but this paper, this document that holds my future in balance…

I feel really stupid sometimes when I realize in retrospect the sorts of things I take as meaningful or useful information, omens if you will. Like I’m constantly reading the chaotic, ever-flowing bones of every situation.

Anyway, I’ve cleared my mind as well as I can. I know what I want and I’ve done all I know in order to effect it. So now I wait. I don’t like waiting. It’s shit. It’s All Godot all the time here. If I can figure out how not to wait, then I would, but I don’t know how to… I’m drinking coffee and waiting which is one of the worst ways of trying to wait there could be. I think a lot about failure. I try to pull myself together. I succeed temporarily. I talk to a lady who says everything happens for a reason. I agree with her, but I still don’t feel very good.

My soul is tired. I don’t want to live in coffee bars anymore. I don’t want to be in Baltimore. I don’t think I want that much, mostly I don’t want. I want to go. I want to be free and it keeps evading me. Maybe it always will? I don’t want to get drunk and high all the time. I’m ready to change. I’m ready to go. I want to cry but it just doesn’t come. I know I shouldn’t let myself get so bent out by this. Things are still mostly OK. I need to adjust my thinking. I need to get back to accepting things I guess. This shit just keeps going around in circles. I’m sure I needed to take some real action, I did that. Now my desire to see things go to completion is driving me crazy.

A test? Sure, anything can go under that category. I wonder if I’m failing? I’m at the point where I’m giving up on everything I wanted to do this year. This doesn’t feel like Success. The world as I’m seeing it right now is like some receding blip in my vision. All I have is struggling against nothing. I had it right for a little while this morning and soon enough I’ll start drinking again and it’ll all be ok again. I don’t think things will ever make sense and I’m about to stop caring. This doesn’t seem like a good thing, it also doesn’t seem like the proper outcome for some lesson I’m gathering from all of this. I don’t know how to cope anymore but to stop caring.