July 5, 2002

I wanted to write an entry today to tell you about the concert we saw last night - INXS and Simple Minds. I wanted to tell you of seeing thousands of thirty- and forty- somethings bopping about the venue, basking in the glory of their lost youth. I wanted to tell you of the hash smoke that wifted through the air, colouring the atmosphere nostalgic. I wanted to tell you how much the music of Simple Minds draws me back to a different time, when I was much younger, much more on the edge, much more raw than I am now. I wanted to tell you how the person I am today was formed in and of those raw kernels. I wanted to tell you that I had a grand time last night, losing my voice singing along to the chorus of Don't You Forget About Me ("La, la la la la, la la la la, la la la la la la la la la.")

The problem is, I'm in a funk right now when it comes to writing entries for this journal. I can't seem to find the path that leads from the feelings of last night through my brain and into my fingers that would allow me to fully express what I'm trying to get across. Which, for lack of a better term, sucks. So, this is it for now. Perhaps I do need to go sit in the gazebo again, armed with only pen, paper and this misfiring brain of mine. I'll give it a try at lunch; see if anything creeps out.

Fleh.

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