4.24.07

one of the most charming things about living itself is getting to watch your own story unfold. similarly charming is watching the stories of others unfold. sometimes i feel like we're all so connected that it's absurd. songs can feel like family. books can feel like your own internal dialogue speaking right back to you. strangers can feel like friends. friends can suddenly feel like strangers. and you can strangely befriend someone whom you never thought you would. it's weird that connections can exist with people even when you don't know them well, or even when you haven't seen them in a while, or even if you've never talked to them before. it's weird, too, that hugging someone who is almost a perfect stranger can be just as nice as hugging someone whom you've known since you were born. it's strange when a hug from your mother suddenly feels foreign, but a hug from someone you've just met feels like home. really, i think there should be a lot more hugging in this world, mostly between strangers.

i saw michael hurley play tonight. he made me grin for a full 2 hours. i gave him a hug before his show, delivered from a friend, and then after his show i gave him another hug and told him it was from me. i don't know why, but i just enjoyed his set so much that i wanted to give him a hug. the more i play music, the more i love it that other people in this world play music. i hope that i still want to write songs when i'm his age.

i had a conversation on the phone with a friend about the possibilities of using a small pony as means of percussion. he suggested a rainbow backdrop and a unicorn horn on its head. i suggested that the pony be attached to the guitarist's waist, so the guitarist can pull the pony at varying speeds to speed up or slow down the pace of the percussive clomps of pony-feet. the same could be done with human feet, if the guitarist mic'd his shoes and walked around the stage purposefully and to the rhythm of his song.