Initiation Tool - create "Morning Pages", writing 3 pages longhand every morning (90 days straight)Tues. Aug. 31, 2001 - "Morning Pages" - Day #21 - Some park, name later to be found out, but it's got a waterfountain...
The park's name will be found out later, but I just sat down on this bench after walking 13 blocks, yes I actually counted, I have a block counter I keep latched on my belt next to the wallet chain...so I'm going take a rest before I write with detail. You walk off the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan, take a left, pass Pace University, ignore the Starbucks that's calling your name, Ice Coffee, Ice Coffee, Ice Coffee, and ignore the people passing out flyers, oh how I get pulled in somehow...In a similar situation, I was waiting in line for a comedy show, a black guy that claimed he was a magician pulled out cards, asking for donations for a trick...and I just pulled out my wallet...and that was done without thinking of the obvious question, black magician?...Anyways, you pass all that "stuff" and shortly on your right there is the park I'm in. The park to be named later, remember?...The park with a waterfountain that people pass daily, throw coins in and make wishes, wishes and hopes for the future. These people believe a thrown penny (what happened to a penny saved, a penny earned?) in a waterfountain, a.k.a. a beautiful portal potty, can create something special for their future, but don't believe in themselves. On the other hand, there is me. No, I don't believe the penny/waterfountain deal, but I'm thinking this whole writing thing is very similar. I often end these "Morning Pages" with "who knows, yeah, who knows?" I'm still skeptical about the penny/waterfountain belief, but I also have no clue about this writing and where it will lead -- and neither does that dude, presently bathing in the waterfountain, red shorts, no shirt, lying down, with his hands throwing water through his hair. He truly believes in this waterfountain, and more than likely will steal your penny on his way out. If he didn't steal your penny, more than likely, your wish would have come true. Damn him. The funny thing is, he doesn't even look like a homeless person. He got out and put on his t-shirt that in due time, because he was still wet it took longer than usual, it was revealed as an Obama t-shirt. I wrote that previous sentence then looked back at him and he also has a tote bag with the Obamas on it. Obama took the word "hope" to another level. This guy took it so seriously, he bathes in a public waterfountain (opposed to those private ones with rich people's pennies thrown in), steals your pennies, your hopes, and dries off with an Obama t-shirt. And, I sit here and write about him, in what you may think is in a mocking way, but I think this writing is going to lead me somewhere, give me hope, etc. Who's more insane? Like I said in one of my lyrics - "One day I'll be sober with my insanity"...and I'm thinking this writing is helping me get there?...that guy has a different way of dealing with his insanity, and you've got yours, throwing pennies in a glorified toilet...who's more insane?...
I need another break, a break from this heat, and talk of insanity. Starbucks is still calling my name, so I'm going to pause to seek some cold, seek some caffeine...In Starbucks(land?) Cat Stevens is playing, as he does so often there, and says, "You can do what you want"...Let's not read too much into that...let's not...but I will, I think?...These 3 pages are get easier to write...feels like less work, and more just the simple act of writing, it seems...
Insanity - everybody's insane though, they're not? Look at that guy! In fact, look out for my new infomercial about raising your self-esteem - "Feeling down? Feeling blue? Well, who ain't got the blue(s)? But, we can help raise that self-esteem! Walk down the street. You're walking, and you feel those blues creeping in. They creep in when you don't see them coming, don't they? Yeah they do. Well, I want you to take a look to your left, and look at that guy. If that doesn't work, take a look to your right, and look at that woman. No matter how blue you get, you can always find a more pathetic motherfucker, and you'll think, 'At least I'm not that guy'"...We are working on the pitch...and by we, I mean the voices inside my head...but, the point is...
...Everyone's insane to a certain degree. Why else would people wait in a line that could last 20 plus minutes to get a damn "special" drink called - coffee? And, the word "special" is supposed to be designated for select students that are part of that type of "education", hidden in the corner classroom of a school. Or, why would people do yoga or meditate? I've started reading up on meditation. I raced to the library to get my mediation book. A life can't be picture perfect (nothing's perfect, remember? But, I practiced?) if you're meditating or yoga-ing, etc. We're all insane, we just have different ways of dealing with it.
Yesterday, actually, I just realized it was this morning, hours ago...on my way back from another fruit stand trip, walking back to my apartment in my newly perfected walk, I felt sleep deprived again. I had a good night sleep though, but I think this is deprivation leftovers from the previous years. My mind was racing, still is, and I looked up at the buildings, other apartments, and felt, and said to myself while smirking, but in a scared kind of way, "They don't even look real." You're an insomniac and movies like Shelter's Island and Inception hit you in a different way, maybe a real way - damn Leo Dicaprio!...
I said in another lyric...everything's a lyric...everything's a damn metaphor...I said, "We're all actin', it feels like life is pretend"...So, I'm going to continue pretending, and maybe acting like a writer. I am writing, aren't I, I'm not? I mean, people, like that guy, carry around cameras all day taking pictures of something that already exists, and call it art -- but, I get it. Here I am writing my sob-story, insomniac dreams, etc. and my visions of writing, they've been heard before too, but it's something humane that makes us want to tell it again...
...I write as fast as I can with a petrified look, scared I won't get it all down...
...And, so here's the dismount for today's "Morning Pages"...everyone's insane, I mean, that guy bathes in a fountain, gets out and wears an Obama t-shirt. I think his ass touched your hope, a penny you threw into a fountain, praying for a little something to come your way that might make life a little easier. It's like that train we're waiting for, the train that acts as reassurance for what's coming, or what we want to be coming in our lives. You think, if only that train could come, I would go on with my day - as planned. I think, if only I could sleep, I could go on with my day - as planned. So, the train doesn't come, but you go on with your day and maybe use yoga later to cope, etc. Maybe I don't sleep great tonight, but I must start to go on with my life. Use whatever, wait in that damn Starbucks line for hours if you think it'll help. I mean, I listen to Bob Dylan like he's actually talking to me, he's not? Listen to his Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie and tell me he isn't...and that's what I think, but he's really talking to everyone, himself too. He created a universal feeling, thoughts, in that spoken word...and I guess that's what I'm after with this, and all the writing I do. I'm explaining myself, to myself, with hopes that it leads somewhere, somehow, isn't that a lyric?...Everything's a lyric...everything's a metaphor...everything's a train ride...and everybody's insane...except that guy in the mirror.
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