relax

i never thought i'd have to work so hard to not do anything.
but it doesn't come easy to me, so i guess i do.

last weekend, on tour, i "relaxed" for the longest single period of time in as long as i can remember, about 2.5 hours.
don't get me wrong, my life is in no way without pleasure
i do lots of things "for fun"
they just all happen to be productive. all of them. at all times.
if i'm watching tv, i'm checking my e-mail
if i'm crafting something, it's because i need it
if i'm listening to music, i'm probably going from one place to another (driving, biking)

but relaxing, true relaxing (to me, anyways), is the art of sitting still.

usually, the way i know i'm relaxing is that i'm reading a book. Reading is my one true leisure activity. I say this becuase i can't do it while doing anything else. I have to sit still. I have to pay atention. I dont read with music on. I dont read on commutes. unfortunately, this means i dont read often. But when I do, i fucking love it.

still, reading is productive...
~~~

tony (the bass player for jaggery) lives in a small house on a lake near Jamestown, NY. it's where we slept while touring. After getting in from a show around 5:30am, everyone else slept till 12:30. i woke up at 9.
I tried to go back to sleep.
failed.
Listened to an unheard album through my bitchin' new headphones.
finished it.
and by 10am had nothing to do but sit.
so i decided to try and relax.
i put my ipod on shuffle and went downstairs. the only source of heat at tony's is a small gas/electric fireplace against the wall. though i spent a lot of time being pretty cold over the last few days, there is a distinct and great pleasure that comes from fire heat.

real heat
heat from something on fire
not that canned shit that comes out of central air vents
i sat in front of it and stared at the flames
nothing is natural in the fire except the flame
i sat so close i thought my eyelashes might burn
the wood and the embers are some sort of futuristic inflammable plastic
i sat with my hands pressed against the iron sides until i cant stand it
then i press harder
it's both plugged in and hooked up to something that resembles a propane tank
then i press my scalding hands against other, less fortunate, parts of me
it's funny to call this thing real when i cant even figure out what is producing the fire
still, it's the most real thing i've done all morning.

then i stare out the window.
then i stare at the wall
then i stare at the fire again.

just me and some songs and some thoughts
alone in jamestown
and it was good

...but it was also really fucking hard


~~~

as a side note: when i finished "relaxing" i had several frantic/angry/concerned voicemails from a slew of people in boston. Apparently one of my piano students had forgotten that i was going to be out of town this week and had driven all the way into the city for a lesson which was not happening. This makes me sad and stressed and angry, and ruins my relaxing.