So what's up is that tomorrow morning I'm having my dental implant crown placed. That is, my new tooth. For those of you just joining us, on July 22nd of last year (almost 365 days ago) I went to get have a filling done at a dental school and there was a very bad accident in which a dental student dropped a tool in my mouth and broke one of my teeth. Not, incidentally, the one which needed a filling, either. After much hand-wringing and endless meetings and many many visits to the dental office, the tooth was extracted and I had a titanium screw put in (a dental implant). And tomorrow will, hopefully, be the end of this insane ordeal. The next day, I am getting some cavities filled on the opposite side of my mouth. Obviously we need to watch it and see how it heals and there's a whole lot that could go wrong. I'm incredibly nervous, actually. Very very anxious and antisocial and really sort of slowly and quietly freaking the fuck out. BUT if I have learned one thing this year (and I hope I have), it's that freaking out so rarely helps and almost never makes you feel better.
What I've learned this year is to not listen to the Worry Remix. The Worry Remix is so much harder to dance to, y'know? The Optimism a.k.a. Courage Remix is totally my jam. That's my favorite. Let's focus on that.
THESE THINGS WHICH WE CALL MIRACLES AND DREAMS: THEY CAN AND DO COME TRUE.
OH YES THEY DO!
Thinking as I often do when I am inspired and optimistic, about Mecca Normal, and their fantastic 7" Oh Yes You Can!
Just generally trying to be more about, say, feeling good. Instead of down. I don't know. I think this involves a certain right-brain kind of thinking though. Something along the lines of "I don't want to talk to clouds on a sunny day", you know what I mean? Like I just feel like I cannot engage with certain Certified Bummers Of The World. Like, I don't know. I think if we're just trying to communicate our pain, our sense of loneliness or isolation or alienation, that's kind of a waste of energy. I don't know. I guess what I mean to say is that the precise articulation of so much pain, and the articulation of this agony as something which makes the speaker (artist, writer, etc.) somewhat separate or distinct from the viewer is not interesting to me. Because I don't believe we are separate and distinct. SO: I'm not saying it's not ok to make art or whatever about yr pain, cause it totally is. But I am saying it's not okay to act like your private struggle could only have happened to you ever and then make the audience (or your friends, or whatever) bear witness to it, as if the problem is that people don't understand or comprehend the totally vanguard, individual pain of you. That's not cool. That's not a good reason to feel special. OK enough bummer talk.
I'm gonna go back to the gym tonight and run so fucking hard and fast. Last night I went to the gym, too, and I left in kind of a bad mood. I dunno why. Sometimes exercise makes me feel euphoric and sometimes I feel manic and sometimes I just feel mad. I was walking down Metropolitan on my way home, all sweaty in my black gym clothes and with my sunglasses on, caught up in my own antisocial little bubble, when I ran smack dab into my good old friend Kevin. I haven't seen him in such a long time! Only really by chance, on the street. Definitely check out his website by clicking on his name. Anyways he just got back from a quick jaunt to Gay Paree to do some work in the fashion world and now he's going home to Indiana for a bit. So I felt really lucky to run into him. He was delightful and hilarious and when we were talking about what's new with each other, I mentioned my teeth, and Kevin motioned to his crisp clever little khaki shorts, and said "Well, what's new with me is that I'm cleaning up, and I've started wearing khaki." And I giggled so hard at that. Maybe you have to know Kevin for that to be funny? Anyways it totally brightened up my day so fucking hard. Psyched on life.
Not. Gonna. Worry.