A Meeting With Myself [Intro, muffled office ambience, detuned piano, chair scraping] Alright, everybody’s here? Good. First order of business, why the fuck are we like this? [Another voice, dry and impatient] Can we stay on topic? [Beat starts, loose dusty drums] [Verse 1, lazy conversational flow] There’s a meeting in my head, nobody sent an invite, One guy wants to fix my life, one says we’re doing alright, One’s got a five-year plan written on a napkin, One just spent the grocery money on some shit that might happen. There’s a pessimist taking minutes, writing down the worst, An optimist keeps interrupting, saying it could be worse, The realist in the corner says we’re broke and that’s a fact, And the idiot who caused it all keeps trying to talk back. I’ve got a version of me that gets up at six, Runs three miles, drinks water, gets his whole life fixed, Then there’s me at eleven with a bowl of cereal, Watching videos about a guy who makes furniture out of minerals. One says, get a real job, get a house, get stable, One says, buy some land, build a life off the grid, get a table, One says, sell everything, disappear into the woods, One says, we should probably start by doing the dishes like we said we would. [Beat switches, bass enters, drums get heavier] [Voice 2, aggressive, clipped delivery] ORDER! I’ve been watching you waste every goddamn chance, Got a head full of plans and a body that won’t dance, You research every option till the opportunity’s gone, Then explain to everybody why the timing was wrong. You want freedom? That’s cute. Freedom costs money. You want peace? Stop treating every good thing funny. You want change? Then change. What the fuck is the holdup? You keep waiting for a sign, now the signs say your phone bill’s overdue. [Voice 3, calm, almost bored] Objection. That was a lot of yelling for a guy with no solution. [Voice 2] At least I’m trying! [Voice 3] You’re making a spreadsheet about trying. [Brief silence, single piano note] [Verse 2, shifting cadence between voices] The anxious one says everybody thinks we’re a joke, The arrogant one says they’re jealous, let ‘em choke, The tired one says maybe we should get some sleep, The ambitious one says sleep is for the people who aren’t losing weeks. The romantic says give people a chance, let ‘em in, The cynic says remember how the last one went, The lonely one says call somebody, see if they’re around, The prideful one says never be the first to reach out. And the one who handles money has been missing for a while, Last seen at a gas station pretending we could afford to smile, The one who handles impulse has assumed his position, Bought a tool for a project that remains a theoretical ambition. There’s a version of me that’s certain I’m a genius, And a version that remembers every room I’ve ever embarrassed myself in, They’ve been fighting since birth over who’s allowed to drive, Neither one has got a license, but they both swear they’re qualified. [Beat cuts to bass and dry snare] [Voice 4, quiet, sincere] Can I say something? [Other voices, overlapping] Here we go. [Voice 4] I think we’re scared. [Pause] [Voice 2] Of what? [Voice 4] Of picking one thing, giving it everything, and finding out we’re just a person. [Silence, then beat returns awkwardly] [Verse 3, steady conversational flow] Well, that killed the mood. Somebody crack a joke, The comedian’s been waiting with a metaphor about smoke, Says we’re burning through our years like a cigarette in the rain, Then asks if anybody wants to hear that one again. The philosopher says identity’s a social construction, The practical one says we still haven’t fixed the plumbing, The dreamer wants a cabin with a telescope and a garden, The guy who hates commitment can’t even pick a fucking carton. And maybe they’re all me, that’s the worst of the joke, Every voice in the room gets to claim I’m the problem, But when it’s time to take responsibility for the mess, They all suddenly remember they were speaking hypothetically. I blame my childhood, blame the culture, blame the weather, Blame the way my brain puts every bad decision back together, Blame the people who left, blame the ones who stayed, Then call myself self-aware like that absolves me of the day. I can explain every pattern, give the history and cause, Trace a crooked little line from the effect to the flaws, But knowing why you do it doesn’t mean the thing is undone, You can map the whole damn maze and still not move your feet once. [Hook, shouted doubles, filthy drums and distorted bass] EVERYBODY’S GOT A PLAN! EVERYBODY’S GOT ADVICE! EVERYBODY WANTS THE WHEEL! NOBODY WANTS TO DRIVE! I CALLED A MEETING WITH MYSELF! WE COULDN’T REACH A DEAL! NOW THE GUY WHO’S RUNNING THE PLACE DOESN’T KNOW IF HE’S REAL! [Beat abruptly stops] [Bridge, spoken, office ambience returns] Motion to adjourn? Seconded. All in favor? … Anybody? [Small cough] Fine. We’ll revisit this tomorr
