What a little moonlight can do


Woke up this morning wanting to  run until I hit Cairo.   Or Europe to visit old friends, the US to visit new ones, London to visit the Queen, New York to meet Jack in Central Park, a film studio in LA to chat with Robert de Niro and have him hang his arm around my shoulders and say “whaddya think?”    Or George Clooney.

Notice there’s no music in there.   Why is this so @#%*ing difficult, what’s the point in having a voice if you can’t find it?    What’s the point in wanting to reconnect with it and get out there into the world with it if you don’t feel like singing and your voice is as dry and dull as a piece of damp cardboard?

Bloody hell.   Don’t feel brave or optimistic.   Feel stuck, wish I could give up and not care.   Did exercises with throat tight as a drum; some part of me wailing in total inner tantrum, I need to do something differently.   Don’t know what, can’t identify it.   All I could do was just do the exercises and hate them.   Then I made up songs.   Didn’t enjoy them though.

Sang along with Billie Holiday.   She’s the only one I have who doesn’t intimidate me on days like this.  Got to this song which usually lifts my spirits.   I always forget until I sing it.

Oooh, what a little moonlight can do…you’re in love / you’re heart’s a fluttering all day long / you only stutter ‘cos your poor tongue / just will not utter the words “I love you”…wait a while till a little moonbeam comes creeping through / you’ll get bold, you can’t resist him / and all you’ll say when you have kissed him is / ooooh what a little moonlight can do.

It’s a beautiful day outside and I’m miserable, how ridiculous is that?   My heart calls for something I can’t solidly identify.   A little moonlight, that’s what.   Not getting enough stimulus, maybe that’s all it is.   You can’t just work and work and work at things that don’t even bring any return yet, and not take anything in.   You run totally dry.

I don’t know where the balance is, today.   This week I’ve been better at time management, doing piano, singing, blog, script, some articles, and work.   My voice doesn’t feel any better for it, but it probably is, at least it’s been exercised.   Blog’s fine, traffic comes and goes, articles on Searchwarp get great feedback – and hey, I won a competition, that was fantastic!

Piano is much better for playing every day.   Work – I’ve done as much as I can except for yesterday when I didn’t even get to it.   Script – 5th draft is done; story holds together, has all the requisites – car chases, helicopter crashes and pursuit, red herrings, impossible odds, and a pretty cool love story if I say so myself.   Perfect for George Clooney.  Hmmm.

So I guess all in all it’s not so bad.    Still frustrated, though, still need stimulus food.    I spend 90% of my life in a room with a huge window that looks out on a world that’s so beautiful and exciting to me, but I don’t quite know how to be part of the banquet in a way that isn’t just in my head.   Really sick of head stuff.   Really want some down and dirty, v. pleasurable, stimulating, fun, fulfilling earthly human experiences.

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