Humpday (+1) jamz “i really wanna dance”
January 19th, 2012
It’s in me. Restless dance leg syndrome.
This is about:
from the cargo van:
January 17th, 2012
January 16th: “I wanted to write down a dream I had. I can only remember a few scenes. One being a road trip, crowded van, backseat, not enough seats. I am holding a small child in my lap, she is four or five years old, she’s scared, she looks just like I did, short hair, boyish, bucked teeth, and she’s begun to understand what it means when called her father’s son. “What a good looking boy.” She’s hurt, her heart feels tender and timid like she doesn’t trust really or think that love will be around forever. She also doesn’t quite know what to make of herself fitting into this world. She feels different. Classmates call her weird. She likes it. She likes being not just like everyone else. She knows she isn’t, and she wears it. She isn’t like them but she can make them laugh. So she does. She’s covering up that word. Weird. The opposite of normal, a word she should know. Her family has sought solace in this word. Normal.
But in my dream, I just hold this child in my arms. I rock her, rub her head, hold her tiny hand, and tell her she is beautiful just the way she is. I hold her and tell her I’ll keep her safe and that she can trust me.
Then I wake up.
But this dream — it felt very important.”
