Cosmos.

Like Jules in Pulp Fiction I'm in a contemplative and transitional period today. Last couple of days of unemployment limbo have weighed on me sort of heavy and I needed to shake them off.

Yesterday I did that late in the day. My flu is still hiding in the back of my throat and I feel like all the progress I'd made from running every day has been nullified by these weeks of nothing. I dispelled my blues in a common way: spending money I shouldn't. I went to Amoeba and bought the new Tomahawk album (was all ready to buy in on vinyl but had to settle for a CD, which feels silly nowadays). Listened to it this morning and was underwhelmed. Muddy production and listless songs but... what's done is done.

After my trip to Amoeba I went to Trader Joe's to finally buy some more groceries. I came away with what I thought was a healthy bounty of food that's easy to prepare and was alarmingly cheap. I guess that's why people go there. Frozen Indian food is nowhere near as satisfying as a home-cooked meal but it was a situation I came out on top of. Plus the parking lot tried to charge me $2.50 to park there for a half an hour but fortunately(?) my card wouldn't work at the gate and the robot just lifted the gate for free. I basked in my small victory.

Came home and went with Max and Kathryne to a local show. Max and I discussed our mutual response of standing in the audience thinking how much better a show we could put on. We talked about the "scene" here and how undercooked it feels, like a half-done pie. It was a good moment.

Had a series of long and frightening dreams about the end of the world. I saw the apocalypse and I cleaned up after it. Then I prepared myself for the next phase of existence and wondered if I had everything I needed. Woke up unnerved.

Plans for today fell through but I finally got some recording done. Drove out to Griffith Park, got stoned and hiked up the trail. Think I looked like a strung-out greaseball in my leather jacket and Chucks to all the trail-runners but I didn't care. Took the time to contemplate my next move and dictate plans and affirmations to my phone to email to myself later. The sun set and I looked out at all the shimmering lights - they actually shimmer in the smog and heat and whatever, it's beautiful - and I felt better. Think I need to reevaluate my relationship with failure and my fear of dealing with disappointment. Think I need to be less lazy and driven by my perception of how I'm seen. Think failure is a self-fulfilling prophecy when you don't think of it as a step to eventual success. Think I know what I want and what I need and it's not going to come through a regular job. Divorce the two but get a job (1) that helps make in-roads where I want to go (2). Believe in yourself and stop fighting your stupid dreams.

When you feel like a bum it's good to go somewhere that makes you feel small. All the other bums in the city were smiling back at me and everything felt closer to OK.

I decided to catch a planetarium show since it was closed the last time I came up. Holy smokes that was the best idea I've had in forever. I ended up sitting between a group of teenagers and their cool-mom (Lisa) as I watched the universe unfold in immersive but rudimentary computer graphics. For whatever reason the soundtrack is prerecorded but the narration is done live by a smirking, silver fox who carried a little lamp a la Dean Stockwell in Blue Velvet. In a patient, self-satisfied voice he explained spacetime to the teenagers and I as if talking us down from some hysterical ledge. No, the world didn't end on December 21st, 2012 and it may not end for thousands of years, he said. It's all part of the cosmic cycle of death and rebirth. Spent the whole production with my mouth open in awe and kitschy pleasure. Again, I felt more at peace with my insignificance.

At pizza and kale salad and watched Pulp Fiction for the first time since high school. Ready and waiting for the next phase of the cycle.