[i]
Waking up real late just before 2 p.m.
Unfortunately my laptop has decided to quit on me permanently. She's been a good trustworthy Sony Vaio for about 8 years. I guess the splatter of water yesterday got into the motherboard and unless I want to spend about $400 on parts, which isn't the wisest move, I'm gonna have to move on to a brand new computer.
Blueberry Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.
At Best Buy shopping for a new machine that will guide me through for at least the next ten years of my modern life. I think I'll stick to Sony Vaios. A personable sounding guy named Andre creates small talk while ringing me out.
Andre: "So you using this for school?"
Me: "No. I'm not in school anymore."
Andre: "So what do you do?"
Me: "I do a lot of writing."
Andre: "Like books?"
Me: "More like blogging."
And then I have to explain everything.
He jokes, "So I guess I'll be reading about this a year from now?"
Back home setting up the Sony Vaio T Series Ultrabook and acclimating myself with Windows 8.
Strawberries, Blackberries, and a Banana.
Falafel Wrap with Tomatoes and Hummus. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Water.
Quick little run-through of songs at the storage unit. Then rushing over to The Shaq for the show. There's a mini open mic segment going on when I arrive. Eventually I get up there and perform "Have You Forgotten" by Red House Painters, a soft nostalgic tune that matches my mood. And then I invite Kevin to join me on violin for the lyric-less song we do together all the time with the la's and the oh's. I didn't feel like doing a whole set and Pinball Locomotive is eagerly awaiting their turn to rock the house. Dyslexia closes out the show with his frenetic rap grooves.
Afterwards, Ana and I drive over to Denny's off Newtown Road for a late night dinner.
Me: "Man, I haven't been here in ages!"
We sit down at a booth in a more isolated area across from two brown suited cops sitting at the bar. Ordering Egg and Vegetable Skillets with Coffee and Pancake Hush Puppies. I enjoy Ana's company. She's always very easy going and empathetic, very much like myself. I express my unnecessary anxiety about tonight and the busyness of the upcoming weekend, how I just didn't have any enthusiasm and desire to be at that show or be performing music in general. The event itself was a last minute thing. But I enjoyed myself despite. I think I'm simply dealing with the loss of my laptop. Even though I've upgraded to something quadruple in power, speed, and life, that prehistoric blog machine was like a girlfriend to me. My fingers graced its keys every day of my life for the past 8 years. It's just strange how we as humans become attached to anything, persons or material things. With every year I gain and with every mark of progress we make as a human race I find it more and more difficult to avoid attachment. I always remind myself of the suffering one has when dealing with attachment. It's not a positive and freeing energy. I continue my rant talking about the crises our generation faces.
Me: "We keep reinventing the wheel. What else can we do? Everything's already been invented. I feel like once you pass your early twenties you go through this phase of like, what is life, where am I headed, philosophy, existentialism, you know, what's the meaning of it all. And then when you get towards the end of your twenties you start to, like, lose your zest and drive to understand those things anymore. I feel like I already understand it. It's kind of sad but I understand that it's all meaningless in a way."
Ana: "You enjoy it though!"
Me: "Yeah. But I only hold onto certain truths. I don't know. I feel like that's all I have now. And the older you get the less things you hold onto. And they kind of define your life, those few things. In your early twenties everything defines your life. Your eyes are just wide open. And when you hit your thirties that's when you become what you call an adult. You start to accept facts of life. For me...I'm happy where I'm at."
...
Towards the end of our meeting we observe an older man approach the officers and introduce himself as Donald Allan. He shows them a weird trick with a torn napkin and as he's walking away warns them to be safe in regards to memorial day weekend.
"There's a lot of crazy people out there!" he says.
He walks out of the restaurant with a coffee mug still hand.
Me: "Did he just walk out of here with a coffee cup? I guess he's a regular."
Outside in the parking lot it's terribly chilly and windy. Exchanging multiple hugs before we depart.
Back home.
Sleep 5 a.m.
[i] Image by me.
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