I felt so successful waking up this morning at 5am to get my cab to the airport. I packed in a rush and got there just barely on time. My flight was done boarding when I arrived. I drank a lot of coffee. I felt sort of sick. I still feel sort of sick. But it seems less like an infection than me just running myself ragged. Anyway the flight was boring. It seemed to be half cranky, disorganized elderly people who screamed nasty things at the stewardesses and dropped the books they were reading, and cups of milky coffee they were sipping, and half crying infants. I was infuriated, but did have to admit that I located myself squarely between the two. I got to San Francisco at 11:30am. I felt insane. My dad picked me up and he made me my favorite meal for lunch (sausage and peppers). I went for a jog along the beach in Alameda. The streets are lined with palm trees, which, for the Holidays, are decorated with red ribbon. It was surreal. I took a little bit of a nap, but I still feel jet lagged.
Already feeling ambivalent about New York. I feel so weirdly possessive of some things. Feeling sort of frustrated, the way I did when I was 21. Like I see a lot of shit happening, and I'm not part of it, but I feel like I could do it so much better. But unlike when I was 21, I don't feel this inevitable need, necessarily, to contribute? Just for the sake of doing something good? What fulfills isn't the same as what is fun, for me or for someone else. I guess what I'm saying is, like: I know what you're doing. I'm not impressed? That sounds mean. I'm grumpy! I'm under-slept. Like, what's so great about being special. You need to insert yourself into the world, that is an art project that will never be completed, will take you at least the rest of your life. There's another project hovering just above the one you're doing, and it involves less talking and more listening. It's less fun and exciting, and more interesting, sad, slow. Get on my level: the Apocalypse is not tomorrow 12/21/12. The apocalypse starts with you. The apocalypse comes from within. And I've seen it, and it's great. And I can show you, I can tell you all about it, if you just let me get a word in edgewise.
Anyway. I'm drinking gallons of coffee, wearing sweatpants at my parents' house. Going to have some dinner then get ready to go to a show in downtown Oakland, at a place called the Uptown, to see Brontez' band the Younger Lovers perform. I roped my original homegirl Cotton into venturing to the East Bay to join me. So I'm excited to go see a punk show and take the 51 bus home, just like I did when I was a teenager. I hope I can stay awake. Coffee, guide me.