Ani Difranco accompanies us on the ride out to Hickory, North Carolina. her voice is matching my mood for once – though I’d felt I’d outgrown her years ago, I’ve been fighting a level of angst, of lack of motion, of lack of emotion really, recently. A large part of me is very, very tired. It wants to raise a signal flare of some sort that says “I surrender!” – but not really… I think my surrenders could only be cries for help. I’ve got a long way before I’d truly be that beaten down, but in the meantime I get discouraged, and I get fatigued, and I get lonely. I’m lacking excitement for Life right now and I don’t know how to get it back. Things just feel… stale.
It’s a beautiful day, and the pummelling sunshine heat makes me want to lay down to it and let it just knead its way through my body. I want it to have to seep through me on its way to the Earth, carrying every last erg of energy that it outputs through my skin and through my cells before it strikes soil and disapates. I want to be painted black to attract it all.
And then at night I can be a lightning rod instead, maybe. Chanelling unimaginable energies through me in short, sharp bolts that would incinerate anything lesser and just leave me pure and conductive.
I just want to be a conduit of other things, and not have to think and not have to do, just transport.
Or maybe that’s what I already do.
I have no excuse for my mood. I’ve spent the last two days with some of my favourite people, and last night’s show at Mr Toad’s Coffee Roasters had gentle reminders of the past weekends’ performances at the Faerie Festival, with its sense of magic and whimsy. Live toads in a tank sat and listened on captured logs and caffeine coursed through my body and OH how I’d missed all those chemicals.
There’s just something in the air – or in the price of gasoline, or in the news or someone I can’t get on the phone. Could be anything, I guess.
