12/08/04

Wow, do I ever feel like crap today. I didn’t sleep well last night. Sometime, over the last few days, I managed to lose a temporary filling. The pain is just enough to be annoying. Sharp, but not excruciating. It reminds me of when you accidentally smack your thumb. Dull at first, then a little sharper, and a little sharper, until it becomes a constant buzz. I feel almost punch drunk. If I were, I would have a concrete reason for feeling miserable. Dental pain is evil. I think I would rather be kicked, punched, and most likely pistol-whipped, than ever suffer dental pain again. I read somewhere that the Nazis used dentistry as a form of torture. I’m not surprised. It strikes me that it would be a brilliant way to extract information. (Sorry for the pun…)

I spent last night hanging out with Brett. I was glad to see him. I didn’t realize how much I missed him. He used to claim that I was his voice of sober second thought, or more likely his social conscience. I’m not sure that he realizes that he’s as important to my character as I am to his. The foundations for what I have become as a person and as an entertainer, were built over the years of my friendship with him. Regardless of who we were, our friendship has made us both far more interesting people. He is as much a brother, as I could ever have hoped for.

I think I’m in a transition period in my life. The way I look at things has changed. I’m no longer afraid to contest things that bother me. I need to rage against the dying of the light. I feel as if there is a storm coming, and a big one at that! My head is exploding with new ideas, and I’m struggling to wrangle them into some sort of cohesive concept. My writing style is altering its course again, and it’s full steam ahead. With a bit of luck, maybe I’ll miss the iceberg looming in the inky darkness.

As of late, there are some things I find I need to say. They’re not new topics or concepts, but rather my take on a few things. I think I’m close to throwing away a lot of material. (Not that I mind too much… It’s getting stale anyway.) It’s time for me to get louder. In fact, the louder I get, the better. I now understand the legend of Robert Johnson. He met the devil at the crossroads, and sold his soul so he could play the blues. (At least according to the legend.)

While I have no intention of selling my soul per say, It’s time to rev it up. By the time I’m done, a lot of people will be scratching their heads and saying, “Did anyone get the license plate of the truck that just hit me?”