"Is he really going to write that down?"...

...Yes, he is...and did...and here's what was written down:

- I missed an opportunity today to really help out a co-worker...I had come out of the bathroom, unisex, and her schedule for nature calling was just behind mine I learned...She said hi, I mumbled the same, I'm more of a nodder, and my hi was distorted by my brain trying to finish its debate over whether I should warn this co-worker about how the person before me peed all over the seat...before my brain finished the debate she had entered the bathroom...and then the next debate started, "Is she going to think I peed all over the seat?"...well, I left, I think, the seat up, so no, she won't think I was the one...I did leave the seat up, right?...

- Not Yoko said, "Oh, he's really going to write that down"...she said this after I said, "Stop digging your back into my elbow...oh, that's good stuff...I should write that down"...I got up to get the notecard I had written the above "pee on the seat" story on, leading her to say, "Oh, he's really going to write that down"...what is it in my mind that makes me believe I should write these thoughts, I call them "ideas", down?...is it my confusion about me thinking I could possibly one day be a writer?...I already am, I'm not?...and does that confusion come from the sleep deprivation?...or was I delusional to begin with?...those are questions to forever ponder, and I'm sure this freckled soul will...but for right now, let's focus on what else I wrote down on that notecard...oh, and by the way, I had said, "Stop digging your back into my elbow" because we were lying in bed and, well, her back was digging into my elbow...

- The joke about this being more like "Monthly Nuggets" is hilarious...hilarious enough to spark a whole new blog of your own...good luck with that...

- Actually talking to ones gut to make decisions in life..."The talking gut"...

- Dissect "Illegitimate Child"...show picture of baby and confirm, "Yes, it's not legitimate"...

- "Who describes a sitting person as tall?"...

- Open up art gallery with children drawings and show people discussing them in the ridiculous way "they" discuss "real" art...

- Things women think of that men never would...like, "I want to have a dinner party"...why as a guy have I never thought, "I'd like to have at least 8 people over and feed them all"?...I have enough trouble feeding myself, forget feeding the faces of my friends and their "partners"...partners?...apparently another law firm has been established...

- Conversation about her pimple hurting and me saying, "Your constant conversation about your pimple hurting is hurting me"...

- "It sounds like the dishwasher's on...but we don't have a dishwasher"..."Yeah, what is that sound?"..."It's the dishwasher"...

- Everybody wants to tell you how busy they are...like you have time to participate in a conversation about how busy somebody else is...apparently they aren't that busy if they have time to discuss how busy they are in a conversation...listing everything they have to do...oh my god!...

- Start writing "Resume"...movie idea I had, and will have again...idea about people being interviewed but using their "real" resume instead of the bullshit ones we all create...

- I was laughing and she asked, "Are you ok?"..."Yeah, I'm laughing"...

- "Do you want to go to the store with me and get stuff to make a fruit salad?"...the idea that somebody would ask me that is hilarious..."Yes, I was sitting here hungover and was thinking I really want to go to the store and get ingredients for a fruit salad"...she's still asking me about the fruit salad as I type this...and I still really want to go to the store and get those ingredients...no, I really do...

- "Oh, I thought you cut that toenail"..."No, well, we've had a good run...might as well keep it going"...

...The Right to Write - Exercise

Initiation Tool - create "Morning Pages", writing 3 pages longhand every morning (90 days straight)

Sat. Sept. 11, 2001 - "Morning Pages" - Day #32 - Home, CT, not Brooklyn, but still chillin', and writing, the only way I know how...

...I've been putting off writing today. I've talked about being anxious before, and this is different, but there's this anxiousness sitting in my stomach before I write. I 'm nervous about the performance. I've referred to each night sleeping as a performance, another failed attempt, by now you know what I'm talking about...Well, most of you do, except that guy, he sucks, and doesn't understand anything I talk about - and that's what he and I have in common - but he still sucks...and that's what I'm afraid of, that I'll suck, and end up like that guy...I'd take a picture of him so you could see how much he sucks, but I'm afraid he'll break my camera...and so, yeah, I feel anxious before writing. It's a lot like an athlete before a big game - what?...it's exactly like that? Ok, I'll agree. The only exception is that I'm using my mind more so than my body. This makes me think of using mind and body -- those damn people at that expensive gym. I'm talking about the gymsters that run or bike and read at the same time. I was going to say I'm sorry, but realized I'm not...but, if you can read then you can't exercise. Ok, I am not saying that literate people are so unathletic that they completely don't have the ability to exercise, no. And, on the other side, this would be playing in to the idea that the most athletic can't read. Like Charlie in It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia said, "Illiterate, what does that even mean?"...What I am saying is that if you are exercising, to the point that it could actually do something beneficial, then it is not possible to see the words enough to "read"...Fuck those people...go to the library, get in a quick read, couple sets, then go to the gym, get a quick jog in, couple chapters...otherwise you're going to end up like "that guy" I was talking about before, remember?, he sucks...

...This anxiousness before writing remains though...I guess it's a good thing in a way, you know, I want to do a good job...I've thought before that writers are just adult athletes, and I know Tom Brady is 33, a perceived adult, but he still throws a ball around, grow up Tom and pick up a pen...

...I write while waiting for my food to be delivered, just another starving artist, I'm not?...The food arrives, interrupting this flow of great writing, but...but I ordered soul food, and it will more than likely help my writing, adding some soul...let me pause to feed this freckled soul's face...be back as soon as the emptiness is filled...filled with Chicken Peppernota, I think Shakespeare ate that...after Juliet committed suicide, if you heard differently, you were lied to...pause...

...I'm surprised it took me this long to make the writer-athlete comparison -- because, I agree, I'm such the prototypical student-athlete, athletic-scholar...I have to get my right hand in better shape for this upcoming season though, it hurts doing all this writing...I thought after that meal I'd come back with more soul...but, I didn't show up to write today...It's time I start taking it seriously...I think I'm getting there, but can do better, get into better writer-shape...We scream at the television, "Catch the ball you damn millionaire!"...we get mad at athletes for taking plays off, but don't do so to ourselves...that might be because screaming "catch the ball millionaire" to ourselves wouldn't make sense...but, I'm being a lazy writer right now, and going to say I'll end up like "that guy", remember, he sucks, if I continue this laziness...I kind of suck today too, not my best performance...and I can't give you the, "I gave it my all", as I walk off this court...legal pad...

...Yeah, I was an athlete...was...and now pay for that expensive gym every month to try to get back to the athlete I was...Yesterday, I thought I was getting there, but today felt like I was 28 going on 38...you're almost there Brady!...I guess this writing is like trying to get back into shape, you're going to have days when you feel like you're making progress, other days you feel like like what you're literally doing - running in place on that treadmill, going nowhere, gaining no progress...But, I'll live to see another day, right?...Like I said, I haven't begun writing that bullshit movie yet...I find myself just going through the motions right now, just writing to full-fill today's self-imposed homework assignment, today's "Morning Pages" commitment...ready to fall asleep...I should have really done this in this in the "morning", remember?...

...I'm just going to fill these lines and get this over with today...I like the athlete-writer comparison...It specifically makes me look back at my athletic career, and I believe, I can apply what I wish I had done with that to my writing career...I'm not saying I could have played basketball professionally (yes I am), but eventually I have to make a living and writing is the way I'd like to do it...The comparison with athletes comes with me looking back on my athletic career and not going for it...I worked hard, but my personality, bashfulness, got in the way...As a basketball player you can't tip-toe your way around the court not trying to make mistakes...that's what I did...I still became pretty damn good though and will challenge anyone I've ever played with or against to a game of 1 on 1...I'm out of shape, but I'll still beat you...I guess, writing everyday is keeping my pen in shape...but eventually if I want to go "pro" I have to do more than just stay in shape...and not tip-toe, and just be another player, another writer, and not be afraid of making mistakes...

...On the last page I jotted down in the margins: Is it effort? Or just lack of confidence and the balls to go for it?...Well, unlike athletes, writing has no age-hour-clock...I'm going to write the rest of my life and answer these questions...Some days athletes suck, some days writers suck...but we all can live on...knowing we will never suck as much as..."that guy".

...The Right to Write - Exercise...

Initiation Tool - create "Morning Pages", writing 3 pages longhand every morning (90 days straight)

Sept. 10, 2010 - "Morning Pages" - Day 31 - Apartment, failed attempt, writing @ 5:06 AM...

...Another failed attempt, yes, but will not miss this opportunity to steal time and write. Apparently I'm learning, "finally," my momma screamed, hearing it all the way from Connecticut, rattling Brooklyn awake. Even most New Yorkers have checked out today and have been sleeping for hours, since yesterday actually...not this guy though. And, yes, apparently I'm learning that you can't beat time, but you can steal time -- thief!...God, or whoever is conducting this life, can steal my sleep, so I'll steal something back, and time I have chosen - and chosen to write during this stolen time. It's odd though. I've never stolen before...I thought I'd be racing and nervous about getting caught. But, I guess even criminals are asleep this hour, NYPD too, a code, an agreement, we won't steal when people are supposed to be sleeping. Well, nobody's going to read this anyways, until I'm dead, so they'll have to arrest me from my grave for this crime. Yeah, I can't be the one conducting this pen, can I?...And, it feels, oh too often, that I'm not the one conducting this life...although...

...I feel like I'm finally returning, finally coming back to who I was, feeling more in control of the path I choose. Before, when the sleeping was at its worst, I didn't feel in control at all. I joke, sort of, like who's conducting this pen, etc., but before, it felt like someone else was making my decisions. It felt like I was out of my body walking along side myself observing somebody else as Garrett Kennedy, and fucking up my shit, I might add...and just did...That feeling is ending...but it feels fragile though...like I could jump off my wagon and return to those worst stages. I mean, I am up at 6:08 AM, and had written earlier, tried to go back to sleep, but failed again...Actually, I'm pretty good at the trying part of falling asleep. I've been trying, working my ass off, trying to fall asleep since college. "Since college"...saying that is enough insanity for anyone to say...and then add that "trying to fall asleep" is your full-time job, and that you're considering declaring it your career, well let the insanity pile...The trying I've got down, it's the succeeding that voids me...But, I do feel like I'm coming back -- hence the following:

...I'm slowly returnin'...
...The tortoise's patience is burnin'...

...and...

...I can see life creepin' back into my face...
...And one day you'll see it bleed through this pen...
...And so,
...What shall we do between now and then?...

...Yes, I can feel myself returning, and shaping into who I want to become...I can see it in recent pictures, check Facebook, shameless plug, I just landed an endorsement deal, not bragging, just updating you on my personal current events, check my status...or don't...But, I still feel like I'm heading down a road, and I'm not the one driving, no music is on, like in a movie, complete silence, window shield view, just driving, and seeing the snow in slow motion flash by...I don't feel there's a chance to crash, or that my life's in danger, or immediate danger, maybe that's down this road, I don't know, like I've said before, who knows?...For now though, I don't feel that danger, but definitely feel intoxicated in some fashion, still out of my body, it's a good thing I'm not the one doing the driving, remember...I truly feel out of my body, remember me, or someone? walking down the street reminding themselves, "I'm here" ?...And, presently I am here. This writing is that proof...but, I'm awake again to see another night turn into day...which sounds beautiful and inspiring in some context, but this isn't that corny movie with a corny message at the end, telling you, at least you've lived to see another day...no, it's not that movie, I haven't written that one yet...but I'm sure a million others have...it's not that movie, it's my life...and I'll cry if I want to...

...I feel like I'm at a crossroads to my life...not the crossroads where blues singers sell their soul...I'm not a blues singer...yet...I don't have a suitcase...anymore...my cat, Bob Dylan, pissed on it, and I through it away...check this...

...I'm at the station...
...Without a suitcase in my hand...
...So I guess I'll never be a blues man...
...Oh well, what the hell, a man to do now?...
...Take a train, get off...
...And down the tracks, get back on again...man...

...I wrote that, or my ghostwriter did, whoever, or whom? ever that is, on 2/26/10, p. 35, Moleskine...

I blacked out for a few seconds, or years, who wrote that?...Yes, I am at a crossroads in my life...I feel like I've gotten to the point where I'm going to, or not going to, pursue writing...this is presently my attempt, it isn't?...oh yeah, it's not me writing...Again, I'm trying...we'll see...we'll see...I have to see, I truly don't want them to have to arrest me in my grave, and not be able to witness people's reaction to this...I guess there could be many reasons, at this crossroads, I chosen to pursue, if that's what I'm doing...I wrote in Moleskine on 9/4/10:...because I wanted, wished, and stared at too many walls not to pursue...

...That could be a reason...another could be my girlfriend forcing my hand...it wouldn't be the first time!...Again, it's hard to comprehend, my life has changed so much this past year, and for the better, and mostly because of her...but like I said, I'm still returning, maybe hungover from sleep deprivation, and of course it's 6:42 AM, and I haven't slept yet, so sprinkle some extra 'tion on there why don't you...Maybe it's like the lyric I wrote...I don't remember the exact phrasing, I wrote it walking down the street, possibly saying it aloud, passerbys crossing the street, avoiding that "sir" talking to himself...at a crossroads too because I'm being referred to as "sir" more often these days..."Sir" and "Mr. Kennedy" -- so, so weird...and for that lyric:

...It's time to step out of ones skin / and when the times right / step back in / and one can feel comfortable again...

...I think that's how it went, I'm sure I scribbled it down on some scrap paper I'll find at a later date...it's too damn late, or early, to go savaging for it, Bob and Bro are sleeping - Sssh!...and, fuck them!...for being able to sleep...Maybe this is referring to this writing, and again, people's perception of me...the whole writing thing...if I'm not comfortable with it, or doing it, or being known for it, then how are other people going to be...and so, it's back to leaps of faith...I post something on Daily Nuggets that I've written that I don't necessarily think fits my persona, or what people perceive me to be, stepping out of my skin...post...and like most of the time, no reaction, or at least nothing drastic happens, or changes...life goes on like nothing happened, and you're who you have always been...and you thought your writing was going to change the world, "Well excuse me while I laugh" (Talib Kweli song)...and maybe Ben Harper's right, saying, "Folks don't change, they just reveal"...maybe...

...The whole idea of a crossroads could also be more immediate, or in front of me, on this page. The crossroads, in a sense, was yesterday, the 30th day of these "Morning Pages", and I do feel like the writing is taking a turn. It's got my comedic observations, but there's a substance, I agree, to it that I hadn't reached before, I have?...Yeah, well, I believe I have with many of those lyrics, seriously, who wrote those?...Who conducted that pen? But, I haven't written this way with substance longhand before...this crossroads thing is going to come up again...I listen to the blues, and love the blues, don't we all momma!...but man am I sick of living it!...too much for it to not come up...speaking of the blues...We're Not John and Yoko went to a blues/jazz club the other night, I think last Sunday, The 55 Bar, Manhattan...cool place, very old tavern feel, you walk down stairs, it's underground, which I love, it feels like an escape, often like listening to music is, a distraction, remember?...I could see myself, or another lad, losing track of time, walking out to day light with a headache that could last the rest of the day...Instead though, we only had a few drinks and saw a quartet consisting of a saxophonist drummer, head guitarist and stand up bass, I think...The only negative of the venue was I couldn't see all the players and instruments from my point of view...it was crowded and cramped...and I had to look left the whole time...reread this whole post, repositioning yourself with the computer on your left side so you have to read the whole thing straining your neck to the left...after this night out you could catch me at home looking right for an hour straight to counter and even it out...the music was - eh...not my type...I have a policy to only like good music...bringing it all back home, the crossroads...this group took a break and the bar put on Robert Johnson, a poster of him hung to my left, and that famed Harlem poster of all the jazz/blues greats hung to my right (look up name at later date)...Not Yoko, not crazy about the live band, said, "Oh, I like this much better...who's this?"..."It's Robert Johnson," I told her, impressed by myself...and it makes me think -- You put blues music on, it sounds so old, it's like reassurance that we will live on...maybe that's what I'm doing with this writing, it's reassurance I will live on...and these sentences and letters are my footprints...and me getting back to controlling this pen, this life...leaving you with:

...We have all traveled along ways away to get here
...And now that we are here
...It's not the way we thought it would be
...I guess we haven't arrived yet
...Or that - this - is just - the way it is...


Margin jot: Can't sleep again cause I find myself writing when waking up / like doing stand up in sleep after night of seeing comedy...am I the only one laughing at this hour?