Thursday, December 13, 2007
It's December 13th and it's snowed, probably, 7 times so far. Some days it was a sprinkling, some days it left ice, but today it's pounding outside. White sheets are shaking themselves out in the wind, whipping their wet wisps of misery all over my mental health. It's only December 13th and I can't help but feel like this winter is going to tear me down. It's not even technically winter yet.
I feel like a shadow of a person I could have been. Wondering where I would be if I had just pulled the plug sooner, if my heart could have just been cold, if I swallowed all of my selfishness and fed off the supply for years? Why am i so attracted to the idea of not caring about anyone but myself, and being the only one that I have to count on? Probably because I'm incapable.
Production on the album was at a halt for a good two months, it was slightly maddening to say the least. I did play, and Matt and I did rehearse, but the lack of producing something that already has taken years to do made me feel lost. I did not feel like a musician, I still am not really sure if I do.
Now it's December 14th and a blanket of snow now sits on top everything in sight. This is the part that is pretty, this is the part that I can handle. I think I'm heading out of the cloudiness of stagnancy and moving into something more lucid. Maybe because my PMS is over. Fucking female hormones are retarded.
I'm not really a Led Zeppelin fan per se, I mean I like a lot of their songs, and as far as classic rock bands go they are probably up there for me. But I could not stop reading reviews of their reunion show on Monday. I had coincidentally read their Rolling Stone article on Sunday night, and on Monday night I had dreams of how the show was going, a dream filled with lights and magic and supernatural things. On Tuesday I read reviews of the show online almost all day, and I could not stop crying. Really? Yes. I was crying for how great Led Zeppelin was and I'm not even a fan. I own an album. I think.
I came home on Monday and did not hear my roommate in the house making music, as is typical. The lights were on, I knew he was home, but I could not hear him. My thoughts started to race, 'what if something happened to him? What if he's lying on the floor and can't get up? What if he's dead? Oh my god, who would I call? I'd be all alone in this house and there would be no one left. Would I still be able to hang out with his family? Would that be too hard?' Tears started to form, and sobbing started to happen, and then I heard some bass downstairs and thought, 'Thank god'.
Recalling the train of thoughts to him later that night, I started to tear up again.
Hi. I'm hormonal.
Besides working on the album (productivity has now resumed), I have been writing. Lyrics are harder to come by, the bastards, but I have three songs complete and waiting for verbal inspiration. I was hoping to play one of the songs at tomorrow's show, but having one verse and then making sounds like words for the rest of the song might not be that great. Some might say that wouldn't be that different than how I normally sing. They would be wrong. But sort of right too.
Let's see...... I just read Love in the Time of Cholera. I liked it more than 100 years of Solitude. I loved 100 years a lot, but everyone having the same name was really confusing. Even when looking at the family tree every four seconds.
I just read another fantastic book called 'The Brief and Wondrous life of Oscar Wao'. It's written by the Dominican writer Junot Diaz. I loved it. The main character sort of reminds me of Ignatius in A Confederacy of Dunces, in a very smart, awkward kind of way.
ok. anyway..... the assassins have our last show of the year tomorrow, and our first show that we've had in a few months. I hope to see some people there despite the weather and the time of year. I think I need some love and reassurance.
happy new year if I don't drop a line sooner
xoxoox
~sarah
I feel like a shadow of a person I could have been. Wondering where I would be if I had just pulled the plug sooner, if my heart could have just been cold, if I swallowed all of my selfishness and fed off the supply for years? Why am i so attracted to the idea of not caring about anyone but myself, and being the only one that I have to count on? Probably because I'm incapable.
Production on the album was at a halt for a good two months, it was slightly maddening to say the least. I did play, and Matt and I did rehearse, but the lack of producing something that already has taken years to do made me feel lost. I did not feel like a musician, I still am not really sure if I do.
Now it's December 14th and a blanket of snow now sits on top everything in sight. This is the part that is pretty, this is the part that I can handle. I think I'm heading out of the cloudiness of stagnancy and moving into something more lucid. Maybe because my PMS is over. Fucking female hormones are retarded.
I'm not really a Led Zeppelin fan per se, I mean I like a lot of their songs, and as far as classic rock bands go they are probably up there for me. But I could not stop reading reviews of their reunion show on Monday. I had coincidentally read their Rolling Stone article on Sunday night, and on Monday night I had dreams of how the show was going, a dream filled with lights and magic and supernatural things. On Tuesday I read reviews of the show online almost all day, and I could not stop crying. Really? Yes. I was crying for how great Led Zeppelin was and I'm not even a fan. I own an album. I think.
I came home on Monday and did not hear my roommate in the house making music, as is typical. The lights were on, I knew he was home, but I could not hear him. My thoughts started to race, 'what if something happened to him? What if he's lying on the floor and can't get up? What if he's dead? Oh my god, who would I call? I'd be all alone in this house and there would be no one left. Would I still be able to hang out with his family? Would that be too hard?' Tears started to form, and sobbing started to happen, and then I heard some bass downstairs and thought, 'Thank god'.
Recalling the train of thoughts to him later that night, I started to tear up again.
Hi. I'm hormonal.
Besides working on the album (productivity has now resumed), I have been writing. Lyrics are harder to come by, the bastards, but I have three songs complete and waiting for verbal inspiration. I was hoping to play one of the songs at tomorrow's show, but having one verse and then making sounds like words for the rest of the song might not be that great. Some might say that wouldn't be that different than how I normally sing. They would be wrong. But sort of right too.
Let's see...... I just read Love in the Time of Cholera. I liked it more than 100 years of Solitude. I loved 100 years a lot, but everyone having the same name was really confusing. Even when looking at the family tree every four seconds.
I just read another fantastic book called 'The Brief and Wondrous life of Oscar Wao'. It's written by the Dominican writer Junot Diaz. I loved it. The main character sort of reminds me of Ignatius in A Confederacy of Dunces, in a very smart, awkward kind of way.
ok. anyway..... the assassins have our last show of the year tomorrow, and our first show that we've had in a few months. I hope to see some people there despite the weather and the time of year. I think I need some love and reassurance.
happy new year if I don't drop a line sooner
xoxoox
~sarah
posted by Sarah RabDAU at
10:37 AM
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