Sometimes it all goes away. Japan. And I'm in any city. These people just happen to look asian. Maybe I'm in San Francisco. Like right now, in this bar. The jazz this band is playing, western standards, "But Not for Me", "Autumn leaves", transports me. Shouldn't they be playing the samisen? It's proof to me that music is pre-lingual. Physiological. Maybe language was built on music. Built like a city built on rock and roll. Starship had it. Or was that Airplane? Or Jefferson Starship? Whatever. they had it going on.

I was surfing the web today at school and I had to stop myself from crying. All those pictures of Burning Man made me miss home so fucking much. The BRC. That's my home town. Me and all the freaks. Put me back in my ocean. The ocean of sand and dust that gets in every pore. Storms on the horizon and a red sky at night. Shark boys and girls coast on clunker bikes to go get a cup of coffee in town. "I'm going in to town", you might say, by which you mean, I'm going to go cruise past this jellyfish and this giant goat, turn left by this giant dome where people are waiting in line to hang from bungee cords and beat the snot out of each other, past all this crazy craziness, this city we built (on rock and roll?) out of nothing but the desire to build a city out of nothing and fill it full of whim and wonder. I'm gonna go cruise by all this into town and maybe trade a toy car for a cup of joe. Where else does "I'm going into town" mean that? That's my city. My hometown. me and the rest of the freaks. I miss that feeling when you drive up to the greeters. To the guy in the bunny suit and you just have to get out and give him a hug. The feeling of exhilaration, it's hard to breathe you're so exited, the feeling of excitement when you get out of your car and strip off most your clothes and your bare feet hit the ground and all your friends are there you haven't seen in a long time and music is playing (it won't ever stop) and someone you don't know gives you a big hug and hands you a drink. It's heaven. I mean, isn't it? That's how they always described it to me, minus the drinks. So it's better than heaven.

Seeing the pictures made me feel so good/bad. I wanted to laugh/cry.

God, the way these people communicate in this band. jazz. They're talking to each other between the notes, you know? And then talking to us, too. You can feel this piano player. You know, she's young, maybe not that great. But she's on a roll and she knows it and the audience feels it and we say that to each other and she to the band all without words.

I wish talking to my class went like that. But that's for another day.