Secret Pop

Dec 29, 2002

The Softest Skin

I enjoyed performing tonight. Despite an overwhelming feeling of brutal exhaustion. I had fun on stage, and I didn't hate my choices. The best line I think I uttered was "a book about burritos?" But certain things stick with me for reasons that aren't obvious. There were other happy moments.

We toasted the last show of the regular season with asti spumante, and the flavor brought back memories of past toasts and past celebrations. And we pondered our resolutions. That someone's resolution was "to pork Mary" was amusing to me. But I think it was only because pork makes for a funny verb. And maybe because I'm not sure if it's acceptable to be flattered by that.

I didn't have a well thought-out resolution to offer. I have made lists before. I have written them on airsick bags or scraps of note paper or napkins. I have made them on New Year's Day. Or in October. Or in the middle of February at a Chinese restaurant. I have forgotten most of them. Promises I make to me seem easier to break. I don't know what task I will burden myself with this year. I am just relieved to be looking forward to it. I have very positive things to reflect on and a great deal to be excited about. This coming year has every reason to be the best one yet. The one I've just lived has been its own set of superlatives. I feel fortunate. And wiser in some respects. I'm not willing to accept the monotone of self-doubt. I would like to be someone very important to someone else this year. But I would also like to take a crack at being very important to myself for a change.

And then it began to rain. A downpour through the window of a restaurant where the Christmas lights are still up. Ooh, but that is something I like. I like seeing the reflection of red and green traffic lights on wet asphalt. It's pretty to me. And it's nice when it's so late that the streets are empty enough for you to see that bit of colorplay.

I feel unusually tired tonight. And ready for something like rest.

Sometimes, when I'm leaving Los Angeles, I feel a sense of relief and anticipation. Other times, those feelings accompany my trip back. Maybe it's just that I like to be in the car going somewhere.

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