No Sissies
Duane Allman
Dicky Betts
Warren Haynes
and
Derek Trucks
...in their top 100 guitarists list.
I consider myself a hefty Allman Bros fan myself, but this to me was a little over the top. If they were going to include them they might as well have chosen Kenny Wayne Shephard and Johnny Lang. To me Duane is the essence of all that I love about the Allman Bros and after his death I am not so interested in their music.
Aside from this bias they demonstrated I found the rest of the list to be basically well-rounded and generally well-numbered. They even threw in a couple of chicks, like Joan Jett and Joni Mitchell.
However, they left out Billy Gibbons and Phil Keagy, which I find in many ways inexcusable.
I don't agree that Jimi Hendrix is number one (since I like Funkadellic better than the Experience) but that is one of those celebrity issues we all have to accept.
Today I felt awful. Like absolute shit. Completely worthless. Useless. Painfully so.
I made myself look cute and left the house after three in the afternoon, instead of around nine a.m.
Despite all this funk I'm feeling I still make sure I dress nicely every day just in case I get in conversations with strangers. Makeup. Cute hair (which is getting sooooo long).
I pulled my feet along into some building where I could register for yoga... and they put me in a class which was set to begin in a little over an hour, so I couldn't change clothes, but my outfit was moderately conducive.
About forty of us saluted the sun and rested in child pose, and as I felt my body relax I lost a couple of tears. The comfort of my spine and muscles all circulating my breath and blood in a peacefull rythym allowed my mind to drop it's guard as well, I suppose.
I was lying on my back when I felt two tears hit each of my ears.
I almost let it all go, and then I rememebered the other thirty-nine people there who might feel uncomfortable if I just began weeping, so I sealed the valve and went to the library.
Cognitive neuroscience is hard, and the reading makes minimal sense to me.
I spent hours in the lovely library reading, and now I feel extremely less shitty than I did earlier.
I might try something new for my schedule: flip it.
Let myself sleep until ten or so in the morning, and just stay up late reading every night (like I'm inclined to do).
It is not as if reading at eight a.m. is even pleasant for me.
My schedule is filling up some, though. There are seminars and colloquia and organizations and picnics and the like which are slowly popping up into my schedule and helping me have something to work around every day.
I didn't talk to anyone today, which kills me.
So I text-paged Asit from the library to give myself a little smile, and it worked.
I've decided that at Christmas time I'm going to ask Joy about Kasey (in the expected event that I continue to hear nothing of his own volition). I've deleted all copies of his phone nubmer that I have, so I cannot contact him without calling Joy... and for that I will wait until Christmas.
It still bothers me. Right before I fall asleep at night I think about it. Now I'm to the point where I cannnot, on principle, accept any excuses but I fear that this isn't over, and I'm worried about what form he will take in the future.
I've known from the beginning that this person was going to play a long-term role in my life, and I've become concerned about how painful that role could end up being.
This is the end of this entry.
