The world often spins without me. I've come to this conclusion only recently when I found events happening beyond my control. One moment I am tied to the city until March, and the next I am going to NC for the weekend. I am constantly busy with nothing to do. I feel as if I all too often waste precious moments and find myself overwhelmed when they are gone.

The room around me is a mess of papers, clothes, and crumbs, but it is not my place to clean it. I cannot understand how people live like this, as I am continually picking up after myself (and the various men in my life). I cannot complain, though, because this is the mess of very good people. I could never say anything bad about people who bend over backwards to help me. I feel priveleged to even know them.

Work is calling only a bit louder than this diary. If I could get paid to type on this site I would. But, alas, it will never happen. So, without further ado, back to the real world.

Something Brand New

We're running late and all that stands between us and this revelation is a legion of stairs. By the time we arrive at our seats, we've missed the opening song. I hear a familiar rift and know what's next. I am not surprised to hear Sowing Season (Yeah), it is the voice singing that takes me back. The cd is nothing compared to the voice that is aching into the microphone. His energy seems desperate, as opposed to excited. "I'm not you're friend, I'm not your lover, I'm not your family." Is he attempting to convince himself? The songs keep coming with only a word or two in-between. It was his homecoming, and he ised it as his fuel. The show takes an unexpected turn when Jessey falls to the floor, writing and playing. His soul is poured out through the notes. It is only him and his demons. We are spectators to his torment. Then he is alone in the spotlight, squatting and pleading into the microphone. "Sing to me" he cries. This is met with screams and cheers from the audience. "Sing to me!" I take a deep breath to yell to him, and it catches in my throat. It catches in all of our throats. Collectively we feel the need and desperation in that sentance, collectively we are quieted. "Say something! Say something to me! Sing to me!" It is quiet as we wait for direction. "LIE TO ME!" A pin drops and rings in our ears. Such silence has never before been heard in a crowd of 20,000. A single thought is shared; "No Jessey. I don't want to lie to you". Each of us feel as if the request is personal, none of us feel capable of fufilling it. In that moment he has touched the center of ever person in the stadium. Through his request, we are all changed. Then, the moment is over and the songs go on. Yet, at the end of the set, it seems as though the band has resigned. The drummer half-heartedly throws his sticks, the band walks off dejectedly. We are left with Jessey on guitar. The stage is his alone, the audience captivated. He untangles himself from his guitar strap and throws his guitar into the drum set. This isn't the same feeling of the London Calling cover, angry rebellion, it is defeat, it is hopelessness, it is the demons winning. Lacey walks off stage, the lights come up, and we breathe again.