Monday, November 3, 2003

I'm listening to Elliott Smith and it's not like listening to Jeff Buckley. When I listen to Jeff Buckley, I'm inspired and saddened that he died and wonder what great music he could have made. When I listen to Elliott Smith, I'm inspired and haunted because he decided that the music he made was all that he would make. So it's almost like he's speaking from the grave because he willlingly chose this moment as the cap on the music that would eternally represent him. Jeff Buckley died tragically and mysteriously. Elliott Smith died intentionally and, though by harsh methods, poetically.

Fuck being poetic, I wanna be alive. Jeff Buckley was one of the most living persons that ever was. So what's with the dichotomy? Why do some people embody life while others only have enough of it to celebrate by getting rid of it?


Last night I went up to Los Angeles with Adam and we met up with Brent and later Colton. There was rarely a moment (sans the two hours we spent watching Colton's sister Tasha in the play Vinegar Tom) in which we were not laughing hysterically. My stomach was hurting. I haven't done that in quite some time. But if you get a few of us together, it's always bound to happen. We just don't all see each other that often anymore. My friends are all at school or working or saving the earth or touring the world or have simply moved away. It felt really, really good to laugh that much. On top of everything, Richard Riehle (aka the "Jump to Conclusions Game" guy from Office Space) was there, which is funny in and of itself.

I need to meditate more and I need to take up yoga again. It's way too good for me. Plus I haven't looked that deep inside in a while. When you look at your life from the inside out, you can feel your own strength and beauty. When you look at your life from the outside in, everything eventually feels hollow because you've taken your self out of yourself.

I think I'm going to start overestimating myself.