I listen to music when walking home from the BART station. Lately the song is "D-scape" by Aphex Twin. I've decided the D stands for Dread, because that's the mood it conjures.
It's great how music can transform the most mundane scene into something engaging. When I listen to D-scape, my walk becomes a mysterious journey through an eerie dream-scape. (Ok, maybe the D stands for dream.) Objects like mailboxes and homeless shopping carts are imbued with an ineffable menace. Random events acquire cinematic impact.
I walked home late today because I had my welding class. We learned how to arc weld, which turns out to be a lot harder than using oxyacetalyne torches. It's not so bad once you get going, but the initial motion-- striking the fuse like a match to start the arc-- proved maddeningly difficult to my clumsy hands. I still had fun though. We were using 6011 fuses, where 60 = strength of 60,000 pounds per square inch. To put it in perspective: that's really fucking strong! I hope that gave you some perspective.
We had the amp (ampage? amp-something? not voltage, it starts with amp) at either 75 or 90 the whole time, but the thing went up to 225. Our teacher told us that's the power they use when welding together battleships. We asked what would happen if we used that level of power with our 6011 fuses, and he shuddered. 225 is what you use with fuses the thickness of cigars. Ours were one eighth of an inch.
I keep thinking about Germany, and Hawaii. Feeling very restless. And battling compulsions, fighting a battle with tical. Needing a little space from Az. Missing friends I used to see more, wondering if I don't try hard enough.
I finally hung up the twists of ten-gauge wire I had left over from burning man. They cast tangled shadows on the bedroom ceiling. What other creative impulses can be unleashed ? Jenny gave us all cds with old songs we'd traded to each other on audiogalaxy. I transfered those songs to my ipod and came across the one song I made on Reason, during the artist's way period in Berkeley. It's not great, but it's nothing to be ashamed of either. How can I keep trying ?
Cosmo, Az. and I went for a seven mile run in Golden Gate park last weekend. My legs were aching for days afterwards, but I was surprised at how doable it was. I guess the days at the gym are helping.
It's important to continue these stabs at self-improvement, to stave off the fear that my boundaries lie within the outer sphere of contentment and happiness that I imagine is out there. Is Jay-Z happy? Are my coworkers happy? The more I think about that concept the more meaningless it seems.