"Carmelita...Hold me tighter"

It isn't the first time I've read about artists who claim they purposely sabotage relationships and other important life events for inspiration. I just don't buy it. I think a true creative mind can find fodder floating in thin air; making something out of nothing is what we do best. But sabotage a love? Never. Seems like a cop out for abusive people. There's crazy and then there's creative. And while a very thin line may separate the two, don't ever confuse them. I don't want to self-destruct, I want to create and live and love. Every window in my haus is ajar. I love this weather. Dreary and cool. It can either be very cozy or very lonely. Today I came home lonely. On some woe-is-me bullshit trip. For no reason really. But thank sweet charity for my dog. She had me laughing harder than I've laughed in some time. I must've woken her up when I put my key in the door. She was still out of it. Excited to see me she somehow got tripped up jumping from my weight bench like a step up onto the front of my bed. Her hind tiger legs didn't make it over. The sleigh thing was too high for her. Like a horse jumping over those stupid polo obstacles. She wound up doing this odd little frog slither onto my bed and then righted herself. I guess you had to be there. But the point is, she had me in tears; adorable. Finally climbed up my chest to bathe my face with her sloppy tongue and wild brown eyes. "Well, someones glad I'm alive" I thought. Thank goodness for dogs, incense and Warren Zevon's greatest hits. Those three things right now are keeping me sane. Watching the clove smoke spiral up writhing into thin air like an invisible pole dance. Listening to songs after you've read a book about how they came to be is such a great experience. It's like listening to them all for the first time again. Probably better. I need curtains and a big car. I've got more windows than walls here. "Knee deep in gore". I'm reading faster than they can write 'em. I'm writing faster than they can read 'em. I'm thinking faster than I can speak. I'm dreaming longer than I can sleep. If I could bring my dog into Barnes & Noble, I'd never leave.The stores on 5th Avenue are already selling the fall. That makes me smile.
J. Crew, J. Press, Brooks Brothers, it doesn't matter. I see wool hats and vests and those cloth ties in stripes and plaid shirts and corduroy and raincoats and the rain and the bare trees and the sidewalk cold and cracked and I see her breath when she speaks and it's Manhattan in the fall. Thats when I know I'm almost home. I love this weather. I love my life. Perhaps tonight I'll drink a talented German white and toil through some more Sheldrake. That sounds pretty fucking exalted and pompous. If it were the 80's I'd have rehearsal tonight with my new wave band. We'd be called "Persons of Interest" and we'd have an Asian keytar player and we'd be good. We'd be damn good. I wish the Green Tea Room were still open.
I could go for some diner toast, a bottomless cup of black and "ten packs of sugar"... "You're my witness. I'm your mutineer"