I think I am awake far too early (but there is so much to do today, I don't think I could lie in bed for long, really) I honestly don't know if I gave up late last night or simply found a pocket of daylight, but either way the only think you can do is move forward in a constant motion (even sitting still has it's progressive act, eh?) Hey, I've said plenty, really - geography puts limitations upon what a man can do, and sometimes words are simply not enough to inspire a parallel act in return. I know there is shyness, and I know there is hesitation, and if I am John Cusack in a phone booth in the middle of a rainstorm talking to his sister going 'I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen...' or Roxanne speaking to Christian 'I ask for cream, you give me milk and water...' at least I give my heart, and and least I ask for cream, and though I'm not everyone's cup of tea in the early morning, I'd rather be the individual who does so, than be cold (You asked me a few days ago if I still found you attractive, and you know the answer is still Yes) I will arrive in Montreal February to perform, and the answer will still be Yes. One thing I've tried to do is see things beyond my own dick, and look at the larger reality, and the reality is that I really do understand, on some level, a certain kind of decision. I am also still a man, though, and if I'm going to refer to Say Anything and Cyrano De Bergerac, then I should also be Prince on stage in front of Morris Day and Appolonia going 'Do You Want Him, or Do You Want Me...?!' and then proceed to have sex with the stage while doing so (I know if Prasad read that he'll be laughing) Last night I stripped my show down to it's bare parts - the prologue which was the initial structure of the entire show (A piece rejected by granting agencies, but in it's earlier forms as a simple piece of writing inspired many a 'You wrote THIS?' comment) A third stanza rooted in the longing for someone of a long time ago (if anything, it's as good of a piece of longing as there has ever been) and knocking on Finklestein's door a month ago, and having him tell me 'You should forgive yourself for what happened, it wasn't your fault...' was as lovely as a gift from the gods as I'll ever receive. There is the epilogue, where I actually sing (That's right, I SING, and when you hear what it is that I sing, you'll understand quite clearly how appropriate it is to the occasion) And then there is the 2nd stanza, and that Stanza has your name on it. Your name. And in this, there are few words, and many actions. It is the hardest thing I've ever done - harder than a year full of cancer and seizures and almost losing an eye. I honestly can't do all the choreography I've come up with so far. But I will by the time February rolls around, and the silence of one particular individual has made me wish to do this even more (if that were possible) The rest of the stanzas (and the other muses) will have to wait for later on this year, in another show or offering (my apologies to those individuals, but you can wait - I've waited long enough, myself) This is my show - four parts (one for every single chamber of the heart?) I sing, I dance, I act, and I want. So I should finish this entry, and attend to morning ('We, oppressed who love, must win...' after all...) If this offering is not enough for one, it is definitely enough for me (and I'm guessing that someone will not be so silent if they see it) I'd say I'd want to kiss her sex for a long time this morning, and though I genuinely do, upon this day, at the end of the year, I do not truly know if she's ready for it (I've known enough lovers this year to know that in the end, they settle for mediocrity, rather than the taste of something real, and that is how they become ex-lovers)
If for some reason you are ready, then you should say something (I'm a good listener, remember?)
On a further pop-culture note. If I were an auto mechanic, I'd be Bruce Springsteen with a freight train running through the middle of his head, leaving keys upon a mailbox (though I think in my video, I'd use them to open the door...)
Off to the day we go.
