yesterday was dedicated to painting my new room and drinking beer. ipod set to random and paint-fumes set to extra intoxicating i turned my bedroom from a gross baby blue to a creamy tapioca. this ipod is the same ipod i've had for years even back in the time of living in leulumoega and the music that has found its way onto this tiny device always seems to bear significance to that time in my life and everything in between. i was grooving on this and smiling to myself the memories of the friends and travels i've come to know in the last few years and suddenly like an emotional ninja i was attacked by a song that always does it to me. it was 'denia' by manu chao. immediately i felt the rush of joy i felt when i first returned from samoa to the hero's welcome given to me by my tribe in detroit. i seemed to talk slower back then and i was afraid of cars. although i didn't know it at the time, that song became like background music to the bridge i was building between two far off worlds. it was the sacred jam of boypile in the early days of that first winter in eastern market and it was the late night/early morning final jam at smith lake parties and it united us. it was the song i told kait to listen to while passing through argentina. it was the song i first heard again from my rooftop when i lived in taksim coming from the hallowed emptiness of some unidentified turkish disco.
i know the dangers of listening to the same song on repeat but yesterday it didn't matter. it reminded me of matt and neal and everyone from back home. then the worst thing happened.. it got old. i switched to mushroom jazz 6. danced on my bouncy bed with a paint roller in hand never spilling a drop. i felt like partying that night and that's just what i did.
there are those of you who really respect what i do. i get letters and emails from people i would have otherwise hardly spoken to back home in other circumstances. i keep these well wishes in my heart and use them as medicine for my spinning brain when things turn to chaos. i'm really far from home. i have no signs of stopping and god-willing i will walk this earth until i die. i hope my friends in detroit know that i miss them like hell. sometimes i hear hints of rumors of people coming to join me but it seldom happens, if ever. however, to those of you who cannot be still - we walk this earth like it is ours.
fuck it.. 'machine gun' came on next. that did it ten-fold.
