Thursday, December 12, 2002


Christmas in Miami feels like… is it really Christmas time yet? Christmas all over the world, but so much harder to notice in the southern states, even though lots of cards are coming in from all over—that is the only reminder that it is Christmas. 

I stood outside today, had to take my shirt off, perspiring like crazy in the high 80’s maybe, low 90’s—so un-Christmas. I think they have put up some carnivals or something in certain parts of town, I swear to God—big flashing lights and rides begging for you to spend money, maybe that's Christmas to them... very weird. No one really decorates. I think I had a nervous breakdown sometime in the last 48 hours. I haven't heard “Happy Holidays” yet, or even a Christmas song. 



Listening to Y100 (top 40 radio) yesterday on the way home; in a daze, felt sick, my mouth hanging open. Looking all around me at the concrete and general ugliness that is Miami (except for the causeways). "Do I really live here?" I heard myself thinking. "Am I dreaming? Did I just wake up? How long was I asleep? Do people really live here? Do they not know any better? Is there something wrong with me? Is it wrong to ache for beauty, culture, class, intelligence?

I have awoken to a nightmare where I am a prisoner in a strange place where people do not smile, they consider "hello, how are you" too complicated, unless they are begging you for money on the street or at the entrance of every store you enter. 

Where people do not look you in the eye; where you deliberately try not to use big words for fear of seeming too intelligent, a cardinal sin, punishable by freakish laughter, or rude walk aways; where rock is dead, and your knowledge and love of Latin, dance, and hip-hop are calling cards that can, at best, buy you a $13 drink; where no one speaks English; where women think class is how low and how tight their jeans are and how high their halter tops sit; where men think class is what kind of car you drive and no one cares how you bought it or stole it; mention spirituality here and they think you are talking about some new club opening up on South beach. 

I'm not kidding; I wish I was. Zombies everywhere, walking across the street in the middle of traffic—are we supposed to stop for them, or are they secretly asking us to do them a favor and run right over them? We’re not in Kansas in anymore Toto.

Cleo gets nicer and nicer. Our working relationship gets more and more aligned. I keep getting these cards and gifts from an angel in Seattle. As if God has sent her in just at the right moment. Band is back in the big time talent show event in February. Studio yesterday. Crazy. Guitar parts are done now.

Current Spin: Beck, Sea Changes. Beck took morphine, never came back up. Lonesome Tears is a great track.
Current read: Improvisations, The Drawings of Miles Davis.

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