I have began playing with the idea of a schedule. It is very, very loose. If you are interested, this is what my day looks like:
Each day, I wake up whenever happens naturally, and spend a good ten minutes recalling my dreams, which tend to seem like they happen as my body is beginning to wake. Ill write out last night’s at the end of this post…it is unrelated.
I then drink a BOATLOAD of cold water while other water boils. Into the french press goes some coffee, some homemade chili powder from the New Mexico homies, and cinnamon. The water seems to wake me up, and get the ol’ metabolism going. I peruse the newspaper in the time the coffee takes to brew. (a quick browse is all that is needed….but the comics get some thorough goinsthru). Press the coffee, have a cup with a book….but I am between them right now…so instead I am writing this.
Then there is a short warmup/stretch. Then a half hour ballbuster workout from the MountainMade folk. Burnsogood. Then an hour of stretching and breathing (I will get the splits back this year, damnit)
Then I am so awake and excited, hours of book making fly on by. I still want a cigarette often…and smoked some last night…but I aint trying to be hard on me. When books need a break, I eat or play music. The evenings are music. I am putting some recordings here if you want to check em out. I am not going to claim the best quality but its an idea, and something to share with folk for a show booking or something like that.
Thats the general idea. There is a lot of time spent organizing or cleaning or generally wandering around the house. Pretty boring stuff. Perfect.
I have a batch of books coming together, but they are all already spoken for. Can’t get ahead. Well, I could, but who wants to put in sixty hours making books just for the love of money? Fuck that.
I might remember to post up some photos of books soon as they are done, but I am usually forgetful of that part, and want to get them in the hands of some owners. Getting great feedback though, and one I am working on is the coolest book ever, followed by one that is equally incredible and ten little plain journals.
Last night’s dream:
I was at a bar, open air-wrap around deck. sand volleyball court out front, on a hill in the woods with a view somewhere off in the distance that shows mountains and a body of water the trees, weather and sun said the pacific northwest. It was my brother, a couple friends and I. There was some girl with us, but it didn’t seem that any of us were all that interested in her being there. she was one of those in dream people without a face or description. She bought a half joint (?) and a bunch of beer on the tab we shared, and we were fronting it. lame-o….but didn’t seem to matter. she came back from the bathroom (which was around back of the overgrown and rotting wraparound porch) asked us if we would be there a while. we said we were on our way out. I knew she was a townie that had somehow attached herself to our small group. she walked out.
Some girls came in and asked us if we would be there a while, and we replied “surely”. hah.
Things continued, we weren’t drinking, just sitting, spending time smiling in the sun, enjoying the breeze. a volleyball game started. We hardly noticed, and I remember no conversation at all.
I went to the bathroom, door nearly rotten in half. behind the door was a shaky toilet, and a jacuzzi tub that had so much paint splattered in it. I was mesmerized a moment be the variety of colors blowing around haphazard in there. the color was dried paint, but moving. Definitely moving. Oh, yeah. I was here to pee. did that.
And this is where shit got racey. I walked around the porch, saw some people I haven’t in ten years, we played music on some toys with recordings that played as you pressed buttons. it was nauseating and terrible raucous music. the sun was going down in the direction of the volleyball court, but now it was an expanse of a bay or large lake, and there was a huge ferris wheel on the other bank, which as the sun entered into it in the descent of evening, it turned into the moon. Meaning the sun was setting, then it was the moon rising full, in the other direction. there was a very clear ring of greens and muted yellows and wispy-cloud-grey where the ferris wheel used to be. It was an Aurora ring a moondog of magnificent clarity. I yelled to everyone to look, running frantic to be sure that everyone at the place saw it (somehow this bar place had become very packed without a notice from me) there were oooohhs and ahhhhs and laughter and hugging for some reason as well. then it vanished. just a normal moon. A pretty blonde girl took my hand in hers and we talked, walking close together, in step. She was explaining something profound, and we loved one another greatly, though it was not seemingly romantic. In the sky, a very elaborate lazer light show had begun on the other bank, and extended the few miles across the sky to us. There was a glow of moon behind clouds, so it seemed that there was color splashing about a mottled yellow sepia tone backdrop. She told me I was beautiful, kissed me on the cheek.
I woke up. One of those wake ups that the dream vanishes, your brain clicks on, but your eyes are closed. your body doesn’t move. for a moment or two which seem like minutes, you are trapped awake and asleep at the same time. Then I smiled, did that cat stretch that is more of a twisting contraction of every muscle of the body. I drank a glass of water.