Swept Under the Rug

It is currently 11:39pm and I couldn't sleep. So i suppose it isn't time for me to sleep yet. As it unfolded, I brushed my teeth, washed my face and hands and laid down in my bed. I play an album that always puts me to sleep, In Rainbows by Radiohead. The first two tracks are amazing but not exactly sleeping material. After these tracks of course it's smooth sailing. So there I am, my eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. The lights outside cast a light through my window shredded by the blinds. I always remember "The Wind Cries Mary", where Jimi says,

The traffic lights they turn blue tomorrow and shine the emptiness down on my bed.

I'm still looking for a traffic light to change into three blue lights.
So I get out of bed and decide to write another installment of this blog. Today was no great feat in my life. This is perhaps why I'm have such great difficulty sleeping. I woke up today at 3:15pm. I think I could've slept longer. I always feel terrible waking up late. I have several projects I've been working on the past weeks. Art projects. Of course I've mentioned the Yarn Painting here before. The Yarn Painting is almost finished but I've started another project I've dubbed Layers. I've been very good with keeping up on these pieces, but today I hadn't made any progress. In fact, I set myself back a bit with an adjustment that didn't have the effect I was going for. So now I've got my work cut out for me.

What the hell am I doing? It's midnight and I have a problem with every little bit of drool that spills out onto this page. But I need to post it. I don't know why. I don't even know why I still post to this blog. I would like to think it's a nice outlet. Well what do you need an outlet for when there's nothing inside? Not a single imaginative or original bone in my body. I'm watching Twilight Zone episodes. I'm still listening to Radiohead. I watch the characters speak. I don't need words. He's a mechanic or engineer of sorts. He's found himself in a desolate town with an abundance of male and female mannequins. He's making a phone call? But who the hell is he talking to? My imagination fails me.

I think part of what makes this night so terrible is that it doesn't end. I feel like lately my nights only end with waking up and driving to work where I encounter idiots and slave over their tedious problems.

I recently performed a 180 degree turn in my life. I was set on a path toward being a writer. Now I've been working with these Art projects. I don't know what I want to do with my life, I want to create beautiful works of art; i.e art, literature, music and I want people to find the kind of solace in it that I do. That's all I want to do it. But that life doesn't exist for my generation. We don't do anything special here. We fade into the background. I'm brick. I'm wood. I'm a blade of grass and I grow and grow and you cut me down so I look good along side the rest of the blades just like me.

The art I've included in tonight's installment is by Barry Mcgee. I highly recommend those of you with a fancy in this sort of thing to check out his work. It might also be in your best interests to watch Beautiful Losers, a great documentary featureing Mr. Mcgee.

I'm going to stare at this screen a little more.