Tosh's Journal: August 28

Some days I wake up in the morning, and I can't bear the world -mine, their's and yours. I remember seeing there was a commercial on TV many years ago when the adult, in bed, woke up with a smile on his face, due to the smell of fresh coffee being made or a bowl of cereal waiting for him in the kitchen. I never had that type of morning. Instead, I get a wave of anxiety that I have to set aside, or I will never get out of bed. In a way, I live in separate compartments, where one room is total despair, and I have to suck that feeling out of that space and put it aside or put it in another part of my brain. There is something wrong when one wakes up and is in a moment or two of pure panic. What I feel is "knowing is not enough; we must apply. "Willing is not enough; we must do. Generally, I do not give in too much to feelings. An overly sensitive heart is an unhappy possession on this shaky earth."



Every morning I do an inventory of everything I did the previous day poorly — one horrible blunder after another. As a child, I remember we had a statue of a female in our backyard. I would spend a great deal of time touching her face, feeling that somehow I could capture the emotion she's expressing, but also I was drawn to the coldness of the marble. It would give me comfort, and when no one was around, I would embrace the statue and stand there with my arms wrapped around its head. At times, I could have sworn that her marble face would change an expression. Either it was unmoving and non-judgmental, or it could have a faint smile on her lips. "Raising a child is a creative endeavor, an art rather than a science." This is precisely how I was raised, and I grasp anything that will keep me on balance in a world that has pits, holes, and rings of fire at every step.



The Velvet's "White Light White Heat" maybe the most excellent song ever. Every time I put it on my turntable, I can feel the power of the words taking me to another place, but yet, I'm aware that I'm still here, in an area that has no room for me. I like to read fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm because I think they put the reader right in the front of a headlight of an oncoming car, and I think any child would learn to jump away from the blinding light. I tend to embrace the sun, and I think it is one of the reasons why I love the song "White Light White Heat."



I learn lessons from all my mistakes, yet I can't correct anything. I hit the side of my head and go 'Hey dummy,' but that's about it. My life is like holding a bowl of burning flaming liquid on the top of my head.   I'm just trying to avoid all the sinkholes on the ground. I want to contain everything I have and not spill it out on the pavement in front of me. But most of all, I want to rock. And. Roll.