Something has changed. After a very thoughtful weekend, I awoke to welcome a brightly lit morning with an exhausted face, and cold fingers. The day outside shimmers in the beautiful light of the day, and I am an over filled reservoir of emotion. The last week has seen my heart rise, and brighten, and then fall and crash. This time I have returned to the surface with a different perspective.

Today I am going to prepare for my radio program tonight, hopefully the music will in some way reflect this meditation I have been possessed by over the weekend. A reflection of my resistance to things as they are. My disappointment, and useless words. I have a lot of new music, and I’m looking for some more, though I sense that tonight’s program will be poorly attended. It is the holiday season, and I have been most unpopular in the world lately. Still, my art is something I make sacrifice for, and I will sort it out with a smile, and devote myself to it regardless.

I’ve been working on remixes and re edits of classic King Street music. I got a wonderful selection of acappellas in the mail from Jason Hayer, and my mission is to produce enough material to work into the afrobeat loops I cut and re edited for my edition of King Street’s Mix the Vibe series. Though I won’t be featuring this on my program tonight (it’s much too soon for that) the spirit of this creativity is all I am working on right now.

Ultimately I came up against this idea that I don’t want to be here anymore. I faced the prospect of disappearance this weekend. Between a love which I can’t contain, a music which slashes at me like hot wire pulled taught between two vicious hands, and typography which does not stay stuck to the page, I have considered ending this journal, and falling off the face of the earth. Sounds lovely doesn’t it? Mmmm… come oblivion. Instead I spent the weekend thinking carefully, making notes, and being honest with myself. I am in abject opposition to reality. I am in defiance of my better judgement. This isn’t anything new, if you read me you already know this (and I hope you’re laughing along with me right now,) but what’s different today is that I can see how dependent I am. It isn’t the “love” that’s crushing me, no… if I love at all, I have to love much, much more than I do right now… but my reliance upon it is the toxin which I have not yet attempted to cure.

Naturally I have thought of this before, but I was seized with fear. It is only natural to assume that if you wipe away the ink there will be nothing left on the paper. But what I see today is that I have been preparing a monolog with disappearing ink. It’s only lemon juice and a little sugar. Strike a match, and you’ll see how every line, every photograph, every illustration, and every song is an expression of this love. It is my entire journal, all of my music, every single one of my photographs, every molecule, every particle of my being. This is beautiful, and rare. I honor the Universe for giving me such a powerful love. The burden is overwhelming.

Yet, my hopes (secret, or otherwise) that this love may one day be met must be slaughtered. Not because I don’t want to be alone… sometimes I think it would be best if i were… and not because I can not bear the pain or the hurting… I am an excellent torture victim, in some ways the searing of my heart, the boiling of my brain is delightful to me. I’m not ashamed to admit that I may be a glutton for punishment, way down inside, now matter how delicate my love’s song is. I must slaughter these hopes and dreams because I can not live in a state of opposition to the truth of my experience. Hopeless and Hopeful are no flat-mates I want to party with.

So I depart from your company this morning. I make no resolutions because I make them all the time. “I will never pass this way again” seems to be said as often around here as “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom” and has almost as much impact. All I can promise is that I almost always remember to wash my hands, and then dry them carefully on the clean, white towel hanging on the steel rod below the set of stainless chests which I mounted to the wall.

Have a lovely day, and don’t forget to look up at the sky and say thank you. It doesn’t matter how much you ache inside, really. There’s nothing to be done. Abandon yourself to the universe, and try to welcome what you actually have with open arms. It is only a matter of having eaten up all your bread again… time to stop, reflect, and discover that this bakery never closes. And we are never truly out of food.