I spent yesterday avoiding people. Lou wanted me to meet him at a bar in Pasadena, it was some kind of benefit jam. I couldn’t do it. I’ve been to that bar a thousand times and a thousand times I’ve gotten depressed. I needed to be alone. It’s not uncommon for me to feel that way. I can get impatient with people when I feel that way, no matter what the conversation, it well strike me as dumb.
Usually, when I feel like I need to be alone I’ll think of the past, and how it relates to the future. I’m pretty hard on myself at times. I’ll think of my mistakes and feel real bad about them, and when I ponder the future I feel empty inside. It speaks volumes for staying in the moment. The truth is, unless I’m working on something artistic I feel a drift, confused. The problem is I can’t create everyday. I need to rest from time to time, and it is on these days that I feel, empty purposeless. It’s a new revelation. It has never been so clear. I always thought that it was the path I had chosen for myself that had brought upon those feelings, my failure in art. But now I understand that it’s the lack of activity that makes me feel bad. When I’m not writing, I’m not praying and when I’m not playing music my soul welts just a little bit.
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