there's more to life than this

I don't expect this entry to be lengthy or make much sense. Behold it in all its glory:

Big fluffy pillows of sleep...I have had 6 hours of the blessed stuff in the past two nights, I'm looking forward to a rejuvenating amount of it tonight. That is, after I've done laundry, called my cuz-in and made arrangements for my trip to the NAB.

I have spent the last two nights swaddled in sound. The sound of improvisation, of chance, of raw emotion and energy. I'll talk about it in more detail soon -- that is, if I think I can do it without this rady making fun of me (as she has already done incessantly for my sleepy stupor of late). I will also maybe tell you about the birthday party and the golden buddha.

Perhaps you would like to read my attempts to explain the emotional reaction I have to live improvisation, of the smiles and the revelations at the subtle sounds of breath and life and the assault of roaring vibrating noise? Or do I need to pepper my entries with sexual references and innuendo to keep folks interested? Other than a couple of great gals who inspired me into the madness of Dland, I don't know who reads this anyway.

These entries (all 28 of them) are a tepid bowl of plain broth compared to those I've read with references to penises, sex, lies, self-destruction, homicidal tendencies, raunchy or clever jokes. Does anybody really care if I prattle on about my experiences with yoga, or if I try to "verbalize" my thirst for aural pleasure, or simply recount my days and experiences?

Yes, I've reached the cranky stage of exhaustion. I'm tired. I'm about to face the music of another trek to the Wash 'n Fold, of little kids and tired mothers and lonely laundromat attendants and K-BIG soft hits and lugging and struggling and sorting and socks gone missing.

A friend of mine used to stage poetry readings in laundromats. I can't say I'm much of a poet.

I'll attempt to recount the experiences of the past few days later -- when I'm not feeling so crotchedy and sleep blind.