a prayer to You
It’s 4:03am on Archer Street and I am writing to You.
You might imagine I awoke at such an ungodly hour because of my incredible self discipline. Or that my artistry is so refined that I must pursue my work in the wee hours of the morning exclusively. Sucking the marrow out of life and encountering only the most simple forms, if You will.
But the truth is that a person was sleeping in their car, and more specifically on their car horn, outside of our apartment. Maybe it was blaring for around 7 minutes? It felt like it was sounding for much longer, but I want to be an accurate reporter and therefore will side with a modest estimation. 7 minutes it was. However long the beep beep was screaming, I am now up and writing to You (note: beep beep is the universal name for cars, coined by Basil and children everywhere).
This wasn’t a freak kind of occurrence for Archer Street though. Chaotic sounds rule this street without concern for my already fragile circadian rhythm. Examples include: Our sweet neighbor Millie who works on her truck at night and seems to check her progress via revving. Or the police sirens. Or the vacationers yelling “Hell Yeah!” from their Airbnb next door. Or the other week when RV people decided to set up shop and hash out their marital differences on Archer Street, bless ‘em please.
The Chicken or The Egg. Which came first? The Chicken being The Noise and The Egg being The Anxiety. I imagine it was The Egg (also known as Anxiety). I’ve been an anxious little guy for a good chunk of years now. Someone who suffers from The Egg. If You don’t believe me, listen to any song I’ve ever made. Wait, was that my anxiety telling me I needed to qualify the mental illness I experience? Quite possibly. I’m sorry.
I’m starting to imagine that You are using The Chicken to help me reckon my experience with The Egg. The Noise forces me to look at The Anxiety. And so about three times a day I’ve been muttering and pondering the beep beepsong that my friends Sam & McKenna showed Basil:
It's all a bit too loud for me
It's all a bit too loud
I am looking for serenity
For someone to sit next to me
And write me out a recipe
For getting through the day
As the world beeps away
This is my prayer. Just me being weak. Not having control over anything. Needing help with The Egg, yet again. Maybe one day, You will make a place for us to live that’s quieter. Or maybe You will make the place we live quieter. Beside a quiet streams I hope! But right now, You are asking me to keep praying.
It’s 6:19am as I am finishing writing these words to You and I hear the birds chirping. They sing beautiful songs, really. Thank You.
