How To Destroy To-Do Lists

I don’t know how many days I have left in this life.

It could be thousands of days or a small amount of days.

I have a lot of control over other things, but I don’t have control over that.
Picture 10

Yesterday, I found myself in a city in the world I had never been in before.

There was a knock on my door at 9pm.
I had my costume to wash.
This blog to start working on.
Jewelry to make for the shows.

It was Josh, the sound guy and lead instigator of adventures.  And he was going out.

He said he’d be waiting in the lobby for ten minutes, and then he was leaving.

Fuck. The ‘Things I’m supposed to do’ vs. ‘Things I want to just do’ internal argument again.

Ten minutes later, I was in the rain with a borrowed hotel umbrella.

There was an adventure waiting for me in the curves of the cobblestone streets.
There was a wolf dog named La Luna to meet.
There was a men’s bathroom to stumble accidentally in on.
There was a cute girl to lean against.
There was a pistachio gelato in a cone with my name on it.
There was an umbrella to dance in the rain with.
There was an American named Amy who thought I was trying to pick her pocket.
There was an Italian guy in his 70s with a mafia tattoo on this hand in the corner.
There was a tiny little bar with dusty postcards on the ceiling and a piano.
There was a spontaneous sing-along of New York, New York with a German boy singing the loudest.
Picture 8
There was a newspaper article on the wall from December 4, 2003 of the pianist smiling in front of the same piano in the same bar in the same town with the same postcards as if nothing had changed.

I thought that 19 days in 2003 from when that dusty newspaper article on the wall came out,
my first dog, Greta,
would die.
I thought about all the things that have happened in the past ten years.
The things that were lost to me.
The things that were gained.
I thought of the people over those ten years that wandered in and out of that tiny bar with the pianist that stayed the same.

I don’t even know how to get back to that bar.
The streets are too curvy.
More than likely, I will never see any of those people again in that bar in my lifetime.
Or wander to that place again in my lifetime.

And that’s why I choose to throw my head back and sing.

Because this is all just a moment.

Before the night turns into day turns into years turns into the end of time.

I decided to go live the story.
Rather than think of the story.

And because of that –
I will get on stage with a dirty costume tonight, and I will still kiss you.

And hopefully no one will remember or care about the stupid unwashed things, or the fucking to do lists that were neglected.

And if that is what in all of this – that they choose to remember….
they can suck it.
Picture 7
Shut the computer off, call in sick, walk out,
let’s make our hearts explode with the unknown.


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