Walk On the Moon

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go.

Holy fucking shit.

Pardon my french. Am I excited? Out of my mind. Am I scared? Out of my mind. Terrification. So terrified it's terrific. Why is it always so sunny in this rainy city when I'm on my way out?

This is my one small step. I'm flying solo and flying free. This is the part where I show everybody, myself included, just what kind of stuff I'm made of. What an adventure. This is what I'm in it for. This is going to be amazing.

I'm getting the heck out of dodge.

Keep Dreaming,
Daydream Believer

Chomp the Spy

I didn't mean to read it, honest. But there they were, the words from the deep dark place, laid out in blue ink on paper. It gave me a good shake, enough to make my lips come loose and confess my fears. Sooner or later the smoke cleared. Cleverer and callous, once everything seemed sorted suddenly it all went sordid didn't you hear?
I would be the worst of liars if I said I wasn't concerned. I am. But for a change I'm not sure why. As usual, I don't know what I want. There's some spite there that I'm not quite sure what I want to do about. It would be nice to get a couple of choice words in, but now that things are heading in a square-one-wardly direction, I'm not sure I mean them anymore. If I ever meant them in the first place. Now that chomp the spy is cleared out, who knows what's next. I can't believe it was a coincidence, the timing was just too clean-cut. But there could be a number of reasons for that. Most of them having to do with power. That moment of what if isn't this interesting testing the water waiting wishing wondering daring challenge me again. Another game. Do I want to play? Are the takes going to be the same as last time? If it's just another instant replay, I'll pass. But if we are a little older and wiser, smarter and tougher, and more mature to boot, this could just be a very pleasant game. There's precedent.
Once burned...
Daydream Believer

What Goes Around...

Okay, so I have to get my jollies somehow. I'm only slightly panicked about the whole performance to-do, the fact that we're supposed to pull a show of this level out of thin air in a matter of days while not neglecting our other responsibilities, although, let's face it, we have anyhow.
I'm trying not to be cynical, trying to remind myself that square one is just where I can to be. But at the same time, I can't help it. When someone's only civil to you when they've got one thing on their mind, and after a stretch of extreme unpleasantry returns to civility within 24 hours of a breakup, the alarm bells start to ring.
But I can still laugh. My laughter has taken a slightly psychotic turn of late, mostly because it stops me from crying. And after the fifth 12 or 14 hour day, you start to find the strangest things funny. Apparently I'm an honorary man. I'm taking it as a compliment. I wonder if this gives me license to belch? No one can say there weren't warning signs. Pneumonia. No one can say I'm the crazy one now. Well, except me, but that's because I'm the only one inside my head. I'm the only one who knows just how crazy I might be. This time, I'm the one in control. I'm learning to speak up, I'm learning to stand up and be counted. Practice makes perfect. Raising my voice, raising my fists.
I'm full of pipe dreams. Ideas that will never work in practice. But they're nice to think about.
Keep Dreaming.
Daydream Believer