South of Worry, Daydreams wait
Daydream series by Mina Mimbu
I couldn’t sleep last night; I roiled with a problem. A first world problem that had to do with getting wider circulation for my new book, Swollen Appetite.
Worry, worry, worry…my first addiction. I heard that addiction is the act of returning to something to make us feel better but makes us feel worse. We return – not because we are hopeful – but because we have holes dug into our heads. It’s science!
When my buttons were installed, my survival depended upon worry. Somebody had to solve the problems. My willingness to wrestle the wheel away from my preoccupied parents was not discouraged. It seemed like it was up to me to keep us on the road. It was Florida, after all, and there were snakes in every ditch.
But now I am not a slave to worry. I have it because I’m human and lord knows there is plenty to be concerned about. But not my book, because she’s about to have her first book launch party!
July 12th at 4 pm – a Saturday afternoon at The Rockridge Improvement Club, The RIC located at 5515 College Ave, Oakland, CA 94618, just two blocks from the Rockridge BART station. I’ll read a few passages from SWOLLEN APPETITE. The list of musicians willing to help me launch this book make me swoon: Jill Olson and Michael Montalto from the Movie Stars and Red Meat; Jill Rogers, Margaret Belton and Meredith Edgars doing a few Gillian Welch songs fresh off their tribute show; Ajax Green (will be a surprise and delight no doubt!) and Brian Mello, David Knupp, Marissa Hereso and Pete Craft will join me for a few songs as well.
And then, the following meme drifted across my screen yesterday.
I felt indicted—my poor, poor heart. I texted the meme to my sister with the subtext, “Woah!” Then I proceeded to say, “My heart could use a massage according to my daydreams!”
Sure, sometimes my fantasies are full of hope and wonder, but usually they're full of defensive arguments and wanting something I don’t yet have. As my pal Shawn says, “Are we truly alive if we’re not future tripping?”
One more thought about unconscious escapades.
Brian and I were transported in a documentary time machine to when we were young adults by watching Pee Wee as Himself . It was compelling and insightful, so endearing and funny. Paul Rubens was not who I thought he might be. Occasionally tender or tense, he was a wonder to behold. What a ground-breaking time artistically! Networks have the power to make and break unusual projects, but every now and then, weird stuff gets away, and before it can be reeled in and thrown into a cooler, the audience clamors for more. More Pee Wee, more Pee Wee!
During Part 2 of the documentary, a quick glimpse of a live performance from the thriving 1980s LA music scene showed the band X tearing up a stage. Paul Rubens was there. When I see X now, there is a tenderness for who I was then. When I saw X then, I was transported to who I could be. I hope you can transport back to 1990s San Francisco with us Saturday afternoon, July 12th.
