Wednesday. Wishing I could slice my body open and peer inside to see if everything is ok. Irene went out last night and I stayed home with Gabs and Atticus. I was unbelievably tired. I wonder if I am just tired or if something is wrong. Me, who never went to the doctor no matter what happened, I am now questioning everything in a panic state.

Years ago I was highly focused on the Sex Pistols and their place in history. It started when I was in high school and continued on through the years. The idea I had in my head was this: at a specific moment in time they came along and not just shook things up but responded to their surroundings. That maniacal scream of Johnny Rotten's begged everyone to wake up. I mean, seriously, that's really what he was doing, smacking everyone on the head and asking them to open their eyes, look at the projects on their way to work, look at all the things we normally fold into our days as just scenery, environment. Sometimes I look at the projects in Chicago and I think of Sean Connery talking to Kevin Costner in The Untouchables (bad movie example, sue me) telling him that everyone knows where the booze is, the question is who wants to take on Capone (say it with a scottish brogue). Well, everyone does know, me too. I have been obsessed with those moments when a spark or scream happens that begs or shatters a bubble and the term "wake up" appears. Do The Right Thing was filled with moments like that, even Samuel Jackson's dj said on his radio show: Wake up, wake up, up you wake.

I had tried to incorporate these ideas in my art or at least I used to consciously. I realize as I have gotten older that you must strike a balance in order to keep yourself aware and not fall asleep. Your obligation is to the world and how you treat in on a daily basis. Ten years ago I would have framed that in a post modern context. I would have gone on about sincerity and responsibility and being awake. Now I see the road before me and I no longer desire a straight narrative (a long rolling amalgam of all the things I have learned and that are right in the world so that I may create a handbook for myself) because the minutes move and I need to learn to ride them. I am not raising my child for myself, for my vanity or to take care of me when I get older. I am raising my child for the world. I need to get moving and, as they say, wake up.