woke up saturday with my past life mapped out in perfect clarity, every mistake in red. all the decisions i shd have taken. seems so obvious now. i stewed for an entirely nauseous half hour, too muggy, too comfortable in my own misery to move.
but then the weather shifts, there's nothing so mysterious about it. something bigger than yrself, inside yrself. i have a pretty good self-righting mechanism. i don't stay down. i am wholly aware of how unimaginably lucky i am to be living in this time, this place, this body. even if every move you ever made was a mistake, you take a deep breath and start again. it's as easy as you let it be.
i got up, i lacerated myself for relative oversleep, i read three plays out loud, my door closed, progressing from coffee to tea, later, beer. i closed the book, made a note, left the house. unpop. left the lyrics to 'i've never been to me' on the myspace page. oh - and i genuinely just remembered this - at ICFTHS, in the cubicle, i wrote in pencil on the tiles 'if only all graffiti were as easy to remove as this - if only all art.' ha.
saturday night, an incremental chemical reaction, pub, club, outside, in, party, other party, taxi, home. i spoke at length to friends about a stupid plan to resurrect an old alter ego, construct a profile, conduct an *artistic provocation* over on myspace. tried explaing it to a friend, the perfect satire of it, but she asked why bother, and i cdn't answer.
nightmares last night. the type that trick you into thinking you're awake. i'd climb out of bed and someone wd just come at me out of the darkness, floor me, push me along the ground like they were trying to rub me out. the second time, i was ready, i got my weight on them, some dormant instinct for struggle. and then, then i knew i was dreaming, decided the best way to escape wd be to lay back down on the bed, lay back down in my body, the position i'd left myself. and i woke up for real, i knew as soon as the cold hit my leg. slept with the light on after and dreamt of old friends, the way things were, a composite fantasy, my old room, once upon a time.
back to work this evening, and then another play. everything goes. everything goes on. everything starts again.