STREETSIDE Diary #2

Another day, another _____, eh?
It's kinda funny to me that, after posting the first Diary entry, about heading to work, I didn't actually head to work. I've my reasons, but the narcissism and pessimism in me are collaborating to surmise that ten million people all around the world showed up to 2036 Shattuck Avenue yesterday and cried and killed themselves because I wasn't there.

Oops, I just realized that writing multiple Diary entries means I'll have to consistently write Diary entries. Huh. Uh, I quit?
No, this is good for me, and for anybody, I think. I believe there's an artist in everybody.

I'll be back tomorrow, Tuesday. Hell, I was there on Saturday, when I actually wrote and published the damn aforemention: I just didn't feel like immediately announcing myself online, when it's a pain in the ass enough to do so in person. I love it, but I also dread it. Among the ~7,000 fans I've made, I've gotten way, way more dirty looks and threats, and I imagine thousands of people consciously, decidedly ignore ME everyday. Or should I say IGNORE me everyday. Or should I say ignore me EVERYDAY. Or should I say nothing.
I cried again yesterday. That was good, healthy and excitedly therapeutic. I also strongly considered killing myself yesterday. That was gay.



When I return, I'll bring my speaker and something to beat motherfuckers over the head with, y'know, because I like singing, AND I'll bring my guitar! Since the world can always ignore you - albeit your "world" and "the world" are never the same - you might as well be a private show for yourself, or keep that same energy. And I heard you tip highly!
I wonder how much shredding would seem accessible if I will myself to imagine it slowed down.

Viva Berkeley.





Sincerely, Isaiah Dylan Clark
510.384.6549