Tuesday, September 04, 2007

I can’t write. All the words in me, even the ones that haven’t formed, are dumb and stuttered. They manifest themselves clumsily, dull and retarded. They are lame at birth, some even at conception. It is a shame too, because I have a lot to say.

I don’t know what it is; I've tried all sorts of methods. I go to parties. I stay at home. I hang with friends and watch them run through their processes. I fight with my girlfriend, I surrender to her whims. I stay sober. I get high. I masturbate. I self deprive. Nothing will loosen this knot inside me. I can’t untangle this misery, this excitement, these silly notions I have about what it all means.

Like the other night, I went with a friend to jouvert, the party before the party that is the West Indian day parade. I braved the dark Brooklyn morning and the early autumn chill. It was so early that the moon still exploded in the night sky, but you could feel cold sting of dawn reaching out to the streets. We didn’t even start drinking until 4am.

The streets were buzzing in celebration. People of all ages were out from their houses, off their stoops and walking around, their dark faces beaming in the ritual, the ceremony, that was jouvert.

I drank with strangers, making quick and easy friendships. We watched floats go by with a thousand people on the back, all playing a different percussion. There were beautiful women dancing, half naked and unafraid. And men waving flags and screaming in island accents. Very few white people were there, those that were took pictures. The police stood by unconcerned. I drank right in front of them and they didn’t bat an eyelash.

On the way home I bought jerk chicken from a booth and, while walking down the street, heard steel drums behind me.

There is plenty more but like I said, I cant really put it into words like it should be. With this whole not being able to write thing.

I realized it’s just a phase. Sometimes I'm a rush of words. They run through me, through the very marrow of my bones. But sometimes I have nothing, right now is one of those times.

I think maybe I need to focus on music for a while. Maybe ill leave the word alone.

Then again I have to keep a fucking journal for this class. So ill have to write anyway. God damn, I just cannot win can I?

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:gray matters: by jkg is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at downtownalleys.blogspot.com.