done with the past, but it's not done with me

this is a picture of my friend and fellow musician, JP McDermott , getting interviewed for a DVD about his music in a men's restroom at the soon to be closed Surf Club in Bladensburg. (He and his band, Western Bop played a rockin' show there on Friday night.) I wanted to stay longer and hear what he had to say, but the smell of urine was too strong and i had to leave the bathroom. The woman to JP's right, who has a caberet act in DC, stayed for the interview, suffering through the smell just to be close to greatness.

After this show, i stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, writing and playing guitar. nothing yet has come of it, but it was nice to be able to sit and play music for the purpose of playing music and nothing else. it's been a long while since i've done that. plus, friday night was full of music and good conversations and my brain was electrified with the sheer pleasure of that activity. by the time i got home from the evening, it was pointless to lay down in bed. i wouldn't have slept anyway.

i had a dream last night that took place in the present or the near future, but it involved characters from my past. i always wake up from these dreams a little stunned and put off for most of the morning, or even the day. Also, a little sleepy....as if my brain is working overtime while i'm supposed to be resting. I suppose dreams are a sign of deep sleep, but not these dreams. I don't feel rested.

A few weeks ago, i played a gig in Sheboygan, WI. There was an artist there, Molly Rogers, based in Baltimore, who was doing an art installation for the Kohler arts program based there. (I only got to drive by the site later that night and see the installation in the dark. It looked very intersting--two ominous, skewed looking towers.) Molly and her crew showed up at my gig and we chatted afterwards. Turns out they know alot of people in the Baltimore film scene that I used to know. We chatted briefly about that stuff and as I drove home, I pondered how even though I felt I was done with the past, the past (especially in a small community of artists like Baltimore, where lots of people know each other) was not necessarily done with me.

I've kept a diary fairly regularly since i was 13 years old. Maybe this is the problem. I should write in it all year long and then have a celebratory burning of it on New Year's Day each year. The past is gone. I can't do anything about it. Except think about it, dream about it, write about and let it take up the current moments.