Sometimes you have to moan when nothing seems to suit ya, but nevertheless you know, you're locked towards the future

I wish I knew what my face really looks like.

I wish I knew what my voice really sounds like.

I'm fortunate enough to mistakenly charm people - instead of the occasion of mistakenly driving them away - but I'm nonetheless mistaken.

New York City is beginning to get warm, and I'm hoping perhaps I'll like it better than I have recently. I mean, I love New York City, but she's been a little rude to me.

She circulates around me, and puts me in juxtaposition with people I'm excited to meet, just to keep circulating, moving us right along, and I never see them again.

Precious and few are the people who have authentically involved me in their life. I love being involved in people's lives.

Not meddling, silly.

Being operative.

There was a party back home last Friday night. My friends are still there, and they're still my friends, but I'm "on the road to Find Out" without them.

This weekend was brilliantly sunny.

Like an Innocence Mission song.

Bright as yellow.

Warm as yellow.

(Saturday, the Williamsburg Bridge)

Somebody sent me an email about a fun-sounding music festival that's coming up near me. Everyone knows I'm about the rock'n'roll.

My music taste is the one thing no one ever mistakes about me.

It's my enthusiasm that causes the most problems. Often times it's perceived as "too..." something.

(I hate the word "too"; I moved to NY hoping I'd stop being seen as "Too." I was definitey too "Too" for Tennessee.)

My enthusiasm either lacks or overwhelms.

My sister listened to the Innocence Mission all and the Cockteau Twins.

While she would paint, I would read aloud to her or tell her stories.

She can't paint alone now because I conditioned her.

She mistakes my enthusiasm, too, often because she lacks the feeling altogether.

An Innocence Mission album must grace my collection now. Today: I need some happy music.

When I lived in Tennessee there was this frightening town up the side of a mountain in the Cherokee National Forest, called Reliance.

I would drive in and out between the river and hills around the hairpin curves in my '87 Corolla listening to the Blues and telling myself I was never turning around.

David used to frighten me pretty badly, and as soon as I could break away I would just drive to Reliance. Get a sandwich at the convenience store. Nervously. The people there are wild-eyed and suspicious.

The hollows of the mountains become colder faster as the sun sets sooner and the encroaching darkness inevitably sent me back to David.

I don't have a Reliance to drive to here. No where to go that scares me into coming back.

That was four or five years ago, the trips to Reliance, and the reason I always came back was my sense of failure. It seemed to me that running from David would mean I'd failed at the relationship.

So I stood my ground, and set my standards, and forced it upon him to leave.

I won my territory.

I drove out the terrorist.

And thereby did not fail.

Since then I've routinely driven away everyone else I've ever hoped to date, or who wanted to date me. I guess I have mistakenly found a sport in that.

Tylere threatened to read this.

I know that even if he does read this journal there's nothing about him he doesn't already know and if he hasn't abandoned me yet he never will.

The thing I love about him the most is the confidence I have in the tenacity of our friendship.

"the tenacity of a cockroach"

I think Evan Dando makes a good point, often times, and here's an old Lemonheads favorite of mine:

If I was in your fridge would you open the door?
If I was the grass would you mow the lawn?
if I was your body would you still wear clothes?
If I was a booger would you blow your nose?
Well, would you keep it?
Would you eat it?
I'm just trying to give myself a reason for being around.
If I was a front porch swing would you let me hang?
If I was a dance floor would you shake your thing?
If I was a rubber check would you let me bounce
up and down inside your bank account?
Would you trust me not to break you?
I'm just trying really hard to make you
notice me being around.
If I was a haircut would you wear a hat?
If I was a maid could I clean your flat?
If I was the carpet would you wipe your feet
in time to save me from mud off the street?
If you liked me, if you loved me,
would you get down on your knees and scrub me?
I'm a little grubby
from just being around.