Date: 11.15.11
I feel so much better today because I felt myself becoming overwhelmed by what I thought was my duty as a citizen of the world. I was taking on too much.
I felt pretty sure that I was done with the blog altogether. It was too much. But then I got this from a friend I made in Bloomington Indiana;
"Gibbs, You've affected thousands of people in only 45 days. Don't let yourself or us down. If you're weary, rest if you must, but don't give up. Besides, you're kinda my superhero. :)"
How much better than that can you expect to get on a day when you are feeling like I was feeling? The answer is none more black.
Just about ready to pack it in, on the fence about it for so long anyway, does anyone care, is anyone listening, and she reminded me that it's not if anyone is listening, but if someone is listening. Just one is enough.
And with that in my bank, I decided to take a day to myself, and not take any pictures, and not try to formulate any sentences, and not try to remember anything so I could write it down later.
So I got me a haircut from Anthony at the Plush Salon. Just drove by it, pulled a u-turn and walked in. And I did a little shopping. I bought myself some shirts and some rings and I spent way too much on a silver necklace.
And I went to the Rothko Chapel. Which was about the best thing I could have chosen to do for myself today. When I went inside, I knew it was a place that was going to help me out. After all, it was listed by National Geographic as one of the top 500 most peaceful and powerful destinations. I shit you not.
Now, I'm not really new to meditation, but I'm a skeptic. Here's the thing: I don't like when anything gets stuffed in my face. I'll try almost anything but deliver it to me on a subtle serving dish. Make me think I made the choice all by my lonesome. And maybe that is one of the biggest reasons I struggle with the blog.
The struggle is between sharing and preaching.
What is that saying? I don’t mind that you love your religion, I love my penis, but I don’t go around waving it in your face. Something like that, maybe I just made that up.
So I've meditated, made an attempt perhaps, lets say, ten times. Sometimes to get myself out of a panic attack when I had them, and a couple of times when I was in acting classes, but then I didn’t realize it was meditating, those were just “listening” exercises, which are, by the way, the same thing.
I was all alone there except for the lady who was working there who was keeping a very keen eye on me. It would have been better if she didn’t scoot around in her seat so much, but oddly enough, I accepted it and allowed it space in my head, because there was no way to block it out anyway since it’s a pin drop kinda place.
So I'm sitting there and I cross my legs and I close my eyes and I see many many images in my head, and the bad ones come first, but then the good ones, the faces I've met along the way, the laughs I've had, and a lot of shit that I had forgotten about came up.
But the most interesting part is when I tried to lift up, like to see myself from above, and then I kept going, through the roof and past the trees and all the way until I was looking down at the earth but there was a whirl of wind still, looked a little like a tornado but softer, maybe even a cloud type of thing, a long, thin, cloud, connecting the objective me to the subjective me.
And I'm pretty sure I nodded off a couple of times as well.
When I got out, man, I’ll tell you, I felt a whole lot different then when I stepped in. And I purposely wanted to take some time before I checked my watch again to see how long I was sitting there. I was pretty sure it was about 15 minutes.
Two hours. Two. Hours.
Kidding me. No shit? I was amazed, and felt like maybe someone was playing a joke on me. I guess I was committed and I guess I really needed it. I still feel a whole lot different.
Oh yeah, so the piano man. Thats what I wanted to tell you about.
So that night I go to Pappas Steakhouse because the night before I'm out on the patio section of this condo I'm renting and this guy comes out, his name is Daniel, and we get to talking and he is the manager at this steakhouse. And I tell him I will come in and see him for dinner.
So I'm sitting in the bar area at a table made for two, and I'm watching all the shit go on because this restaurant has an open kitchen and all the meat out for display and I love watching kitchens work.
But no one is at the piano, and I'm thinking this is a little strange since it seems to be pretty busy while I am there and also Daniel said it was a bit busier earlier. And the one guy in a coat which needs just a cut here and there to make it look a whole lot better is kinda strolling around, looking a little lost.
He's the pianist and they don't want him to play because, I actually don't know why, neither did he, honestly. Something to do with a private party. And we get into it a bit and I ask him, does he like to play requests? Or will he, and he says he does and I tell him I've never made a request and would he play “I did it my way” by Sinatra and he would be pleased.
And when an attractive blonde cougar comes to cut in and talk to him and make a request he looks at her and says “wait until Im am finished this one” because I think he can see my very deep pleasure sitting there watching him play for me.
When he is done, I sit on the bench with him and I ask him how long he has been playing and it’s a long ass time and I ask him does he always enjoy it. And he says when the crowd is tight and he makes a gesture like you would if you were cold, rubbing his arms, and shrugging his shoulders, well, he says, he can feel it, and when he feels it like that, he just plays for himself and closes his eyes and yes, he enjoys it that way, if he can do that.
Sometimes, he says, it is hard. And, yeah, sometimes he wonders if anyone cares.
I'm sorry, say that one more time?
