A couple of weeks ago waiting for jazz vocal class when I hadn’t slept the night before; I was telling the drummer of the trio I was going to practice with that evening and he said ‘that’s when I play the best, when I don’t sleep’ and I remembered years ago in San Francisco when taking solo performance classes at the Marsh some nights before class I would intentionally stay up as late as possible the night before so I could be so exhausted in my confessional state that all defense mechanisms would crumble and truth serum would come pouring out of me; I honestly can’t remember if it worked or not but I do know I sang really well a couple of weeks ago; latent gifts in life are always a pleasant surprise; singing makes me feel like myself that’s been loitering for a while waiting to say ‘Hey, baby, this iz you. Put down that candy cigarillo and croon!’
Anyway, I haven’t slept well in two nights with what I call furled creative restlessness due to a daily lack of activity of certain activities due to various inclement factors roaming about the skies such as jobs and those associated with them. It feels like there’s nothing to say and everything to say and both are right and both want to be captured in one word.