I'm having a quiet day today. Talking is one of the worst things for the singing voice, I hear, so I've been resting my throat all day, as much as possible, with silence.
Communication continues via my newest addictions: Twitter and text messaging. I just upgraded to "unlimited text messaging" with AT&T so that I don't get screwed with charges. I have no idea how many texts I've sent this month, but I'm sure it's a lot. Hundreds and hundreds. I've got my Twitter hooked up with my phone now, both to post and to read other people's posts IMMEDIATELY via my cellphone.
The Twitter thing really took off for me during my last mini-tour with Cash'd Out. Suddenly I was plugged in and wanted to share all of the random, mundane, bizarre, whatever occurrences, thoughts, and goings ons of my travels with my "followers"... it's twisted, it's weird to me, and I'm having a really good time exploring this new realm of openness and banality.
The urge to Twitter is becoming automatic and reactionary. Yesterday, while stopping for a pee break while the Evangenitals were busking with the Collaboration Foundation on The 1 Second Film's Road to Oprah bus, I went in for the wipe prematurely and surprised myself by peeing on my hand. Immediately I wanted to Twitter, "Accidentally peed on my hand!" I thought better of it, though, and figured I'd keep that intimate accident to myself. Today, however, I had second thoughts. If I'm really going to give over to the Twitter phenomena for the time being, methinks I should truly GIVE OVER to it. I am reminded of David Hurlin's wife's first Twitter: "about to take my good morning dump" and am encouraged to be more honest about what's REALLY happening.
And what is really happening? That's is the question! I am having heavy philosophical/spiritually driven thoughts about my true nature and purpose lately. I am asking the universe what my purpose is and waiting for the answer.
In real-time, I am sitting on a porch watching my African Leopard Tortoise "Mr Turtle" just BE in tortoise-time. Right now he is struggling to crawl over a brick wall and his short legs are kicking in the air as his heavy shell teeters in the balance. He won't give up until he is over the wall. Eventually he gets his big 'ol shell on top of the wall, peers over the drop, and simply plummets to the ground on the other side. It is not graceful. There is much struggle. He really seems to enjoy it. No matter how many times I put him behind the brick wall, he keeps working at it until he can find a way over it. Free to explore the yard, to bask in the sun, to hide under a bush, to make a run for it down the driveway, to eat the clover, to stretch his legs.
It is a simple thing that makes me enormously happy, watching Mr Turtle the Tortoise walking around finding little things in the yard to eat. Tiny pink tongue visible between chomps from his sharp beak.
Right NOW he's making a run for it down the driveway toward the street. Must put him back behind the wall. Second verse, same as the first. :-)