09:49 - Wednesday, Nov. 16, 2005
very few mornings
There are really very few winter mornings where I wake up like this, completely refreshed and with a swelling gnawing pain in my right hip, mind washed clean with soap and cold, brain sprung from routine and the doldrums, ideas pouring from my mind-mind into my mind-book, something that can't be erased by the sounds of a starting-up computer, an empty white box, or the prospect of graduating for good in three weeks.
What it feels like in my nose and in my brain and the taste in my mouth is Christmas, but not the kind that will go away tomorrow. I would like to write in my sun-and-hills journal and remind myself that I should learn to play guitar chords so that I can compose music when I am without my keyboard and computer, so that I can do so outside by the creek or up in the hills instead of with a humming virus-ridden PC dictating my notes. I remember reading a book by this guy who wouldn't eat microwaved food because some scientist did an analysis of the food before and after the microwaving and the food's energy was 'radically changed' from positive to negative. I laughed (of course) and meant it, but I am still willing to believe the same thing about music.
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