futurebird's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- WE ARE LUCKY BASTARDS I try, I really do. I�m not one of those people who stays in her house when she isn�t working. I know I�m depressed, but I�m trying to fight it! I go out. I did tonight. The only thing I could find to do was go to the women's centre and listen to the open mic. Matt was there (surprise!) and he played two wonderful pieces on his guitar, he doesn�t call his work music, he calls it �distortion�, and he gave me a little wink when he made the thing do sort of a deep twisted throaty squeal. Matt's music always puts me in a tiger like mood. Then this guy read his poetry and it was good. It got me thinking about how much I hate Maya Angelou. I don�t even remember why I hate her. I should look into that. This guy was, of course, far better than Maya Angelou. One of his poems was about a solder sleeping (or dead) with his head resting on a bomb shell it was chilling and it made me very pensive, it made me want to complete my play about the girls on the modern day slave ship. (what do I know about that anyway? well, someone has to write this play!!) His poetry made me jealous and thankful that other people know what to do with words every now and then. But after that I left, I looked at the art at the FRAME gallery for a bit then and idea came to me. You see, I have all this sidewalk chalk I�ve been stockpiling in my closet and I knew what I wanted to write with it �WE ARE LUCKY BASTARDS� So I wrote that about 200 times all over all the sidewalks I could find. I know it won�t change anything. But, of course few things ever do. This guy stopped me and asked �Sure we are bastards, but why do you think we are so lucky?� Good question. Well, we could be on that lost dark stinking ship ready to be sold. 12:33 a.m. - 2001-04-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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