I find myself in a pretty familiar place right now. It's not that I don't know what to put down here; it’s that there are about a thousand thoughts running through my head, a bunch of emotions to try to get out. Do I focus on one thing, try to connect a few with what might be one theme, or do I just stick my fingers down the throat of my head like a bulimic and just throw up all of these thoughts. I'm sure part of this stems from the fact that, as I said in my intro, I experience things in extremes. I love things and I hate things; I think this are either brilliant or just fucking crap; very rarely do I ever think something is merely okay, because, well, what's the point?
The same thing happened to me this weekend on the train down to Washington, DC to visit my friend Mike and his girlfriend, Heather (also my friend, someone I went to college with). Normally, I love trains. When I travel I can get into a zone, a bit of a quiet place. It's just me, my music, my space, my time, my thoughts. I can let the lines and lines of crap that ticker tape across my brain in continuous loops free to pickup whatever scattershot thought it wants. Analyze work, mull over people I know, check in with how I'm doing, pause on a memory from my childhood with Jennifer (my biological mother) before she freaked and just let that floor me for a bit, think about "Mom" M, or any other character that wants to step forward. The main character I selfishly concern myself with, usually, is me, myself, and I: How am I doing? Ahead or behind? Everything in its right place? Bricks in order? Any sign of depression on the horizon?... and a bazillion other queries and questions, things I normally don't allow myself to pause for because there's always work, or something else, that has to take precedence. Mainly work, and holy fuck does that take up an ungodly amount of my life.
This is why it usually takes me 2 to 3 hours to fall asleep each night, these thoughts. I lay down, the horns blare, "Come on, boy!" They yell, "It's our turn!" Hannibal’s Elephants of Thoughts just trampling along.
It's why I love the train. Roll on through, guys. Any order you choose, we have time. But for the first half of my trip down I was fidgety, agitated, couldn't zone out at all. The thoughts were moving, but they just kept getting distracting and turning in around on each other like drunken bees sending stupid signals. Around Philadelphia I figured out what it was. My stupid iPod (which is the single greatest thing I have ever owned) was on random.
I needed thinking music, something proper and up to the task. Something only the fat man Van could provide. Astral Weeks, sheer perfection. My reflection in the window, a haze in front of whatever was passing outside, and I finally hit that calm spot, no longer aware of the dickhead behind me and his Elmer Fudd laugh and 80,000 free cell phone minutes.
So, hopefully, this here will serve the same purpose as music or train rides do for me and just let my thoughts go. I'm exhausted (it was a long weekend, but much love to Mike for it), and would love to sleep for hours tonight. And see? I connected this whole jumbled mass into a theme of sorts. At least, I think I did.