whatever. just more shit.

I remember nothing
of who you were
I can’t see your face
through my tears
I can’t remember your arms
I can’t remember your voice
I can’t understand
what made you make that choice
and though I try to hate you
and I try to forgive
and I’ve tried to ignore
and I try my best to live
what they say must be true
that blood is thicker
because through it all
I feel it’s only the giver
that can lift this curse
so I wait here for you
I’ve done my part
I’ve searched, been destroyed
been torn apart
and if you ever cry
if the loss takes control
if you have my same need
to try and fill this hole
then I’ll be here waiting
as I always have been
with my arms wide open
and I’ll let you hold me again
and I’ll remember your voice
I’ll remember your heart
find home long lost in your arms
and see my eyes in yours…

and I keep dreaming
and time is wasting
but I’m here
and I wait for you
to come running
arms wide open
mothers home, her journey’s done
and I’m dreaming
and you’ll pick me up
hold me tight, and we’re spinning
kiss these tears away

and promise me

promise me

you’ll stay.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Not happy with this at all – but it’s here, so here it stays. if I start editing myself I’ll dissolve into silence and nothingness again… Maybe it might be better put to music.

Fucking Klowns

So the Porn Clown Posse is officially infamous, and international.

Just finally was able to see what Discovery Channel Canada
did on us – which was okay, if not a bit boring…

But the stuff Playboy did kicks ass. Not sure when it’s going to air, but I gots my DVD copy!

rain

5:04am
Woken by a strange dream, I draw open the curtains just a touch – just enough to see the slight dance and sparkle as the rain hits the road under the streetlight.

I love the sound. Somehow cleansing.

soothing. Washing it all away for now.

 

I put on “Rain” by Tones on Tail.

ooh the rain
ooh the rain

she said, time to crush this feeling
writing very long letters as soon as it rains
ooh the rain
ooh the rain

to dance the night away
he watches topless pin-up faces
a million different jackpots
with a thousand different gazes

ooh the rain
ooh the rain
ooh the rain
ooh the rain

but it’s time to crush this feeling
as soon as it rains
ooh the rain
but it’s time to crush this feeling
as soon as it rains
ooh the rain

a long time ago, a good friend of mine
said this song reminded him of me.

It was odd to hear. Made me listen.

He didn’t usually say things like that.

cut ‘n’ paste life v.innevitable

affected.

Watching Fight Club right now.

Wondering why (but not really too concerned with) why it is that when I watch movies or read books about people that maybe just aren’t as right as our society deems (imagines, creates, infuses with it’s selective morality and corrupt standards) as its ideas of what “right” is, it sparks something inside of me and I feel a bit more comfortable, a bit more alive, a bit more at peace – and it all seems strangely familiar.

Oh, the things we suppress. What is squirming around inside of us? What do we have that could completely stand the world on end if we let it loose – gave it breath – acknowledged its life?

No. Can’t do that.

Everyone resume the game they’re playing. Everyone pretend that nothing is happening, go about your business, and roll your dice. If you work at it hard and long enough, really put your nose to the grindstone, follow the rules, get to work on time, deny the pain and the madness and the ennui and completely lose all that you are in search of the dream that they told you to dream, you just might win.

Fuck, I’m in a strange mood.

I like it.

Shit. I’ll never find a job this way…

But see, there’s a catch.

(There’s always a catch.)

The things I want to do. Learn, travel, experience, grow, give…

eat.

It comes with a price. It all comes with a price. Many things don’t necessitate one in a monetary sense, but still, many do. It’s a matter of survival. We’re caught,

but not defeated.

All there is, is to shine as brightly as we can, never losing sight of what we need. Never giving in, never handing our lives and our own dreams over wrapped in our soul in order to make it one step further to a lovely little retirement in geriatricville. Never succumbing to the temptation of personal drama in order to feel substantiated or validated – or just in order to feel. Maybe that’s what happens. We lose ourselves so completely in trying to be a “success” that we need to create situations around us simply to bring us back to life, to remind us that we’re human.

Fuck that.

Love. Breathe. Wonder. Explore. Dream. Go back to the eyes of a child. Look around and, again, and see how much beauty there is in everything with this remembered knowledge. You’ll see how everything shines so incredibly brightly, and how it’s all a part of you. You’ll walk down the street with a warmth and subtle smile, knowing that this is the only thing that truly matters. Try to remember it, because if you aren’t careful, it will be taken away again, suffocated in the mundane. Do everything you can to keep it, and give it away at each opportunity. Eventually, you will know. The language of your story will become true, you will repair your wings with paste and bandages, and learn to fly again.

That is success.

It is time to follow my dreams, regardless of how terrifying it may be at times, or the false sense of security that I must give up to do walk this path. I have lived far too long as someone else’s pawn.
It is time to live for me, to remember who I am and do what I can to help, to give, to remember how to love myself – and in doing so,

perhaps inspire others to do the same.

cut 'n' paste life v.innevitable

affected.

 

Watching Fight Club right now.

 

Wondering why (but not really too concerned with) why it is that when I watch movies or read books about people that maybe just aren’t as right as our society deems (imagines, creates, infuses with it’s selective morality and corrupt standards) as its ideas of what “right” is, it sparks something inside of me and I feel a bit more comfortable, a bit more alive, a bit more at peace – and it all seems strangely familiar.

 

Oh, the things we suppress. What is squirming around inside of us? What do we have that could completely stand the world on end if we let it loose – gave it breath – acknowledged its life?

 

No. Can’t do that.

 

Everyone resume the game they’re playing. Everyone pretend that nothing is happening, go about your business, and roll your dice. If you work at it hard and long enough, really put your nose to the grindstone, follow the rules, get to work on time, deny the pain and the madness and the ennui and completely lose all that you are in search of the dream that they told you to dream, you just might win.

 

Fuck, I’m in a strange mood.

 

I like it.

 

 

Shit. I’ll never find a job this way…

 

 

But see, there’s a catch.

(There’s always a catch.)

 

The things I want to do. Learn, travel, experience, grow, give…

 

eat.

 

It comes with a price. It all comes with a price. Many things don’t necessitate one in a monetary sense, but still, many do. It’s a matter of survival. We’re caught,

 

but not defeated.

 

All there is, is to shine as brightly as we can, never losing sight of what we need. Never giving in, never handing our lives and our own dreams over wrapped in our soul in order to make it one step further to a lovely little retirement in geriatricville. Never succumbing to the temptation of personal drama in order to feel substantiated or validated – or just in order to feel. Maybe that’s what happens. We lose ourselves so completely in trying to be a “success” that we need to create situations around us simply to bring us back to life, to remind us that we’re human.

 

Fuck that.

 

Love. Breathe. Wonder. Explore. Dream. Go back to the eyes of a child. Look around and, again, and see how much beauty there is in everything with this remembered knowledge. You’ll see how everything shines so incredibly brightly, and how it’s all a part of you. You’ll walk down the street with a warmth and subtle smile, knowing that this is the only thing that truly matters. Try to remember it, because if you aren’t careful, it will be taken away again, suffocated in the mundane. Do everything you can to keep it, and give it away at each opportunity. Eventually, you will know. The language of your story will become true, you will repair your wings with paste and bandages, and learn to fly again.

 

That is success.

cut 'n' paste life v. …

Down to the wire.

 

Today is the day my landlord uttered the last time I talked with him on Thursday. Monday. We’ll see Monday.

 

Yeah – we’ll see. Not much, though.

 

I have next to nothing for him – two hundred dollars, no room mate to cushion the financial burden, and little in the works. Looks like the things I learned in sales are going to come in quite necessary. That, and some outright begging.

 I know things will get better soon – I know there is something just around the corner. There is nothing but possibility, nowhere to go but up. It needs to happen now.

 

I now at least have a home phone, and my internet access will be restored on the 30th, they say. Why the hell does it take so fucking long?

 

Began learning from Tantra today, we started with breathing techniques – Pranayama – certain ways to induce deep meditation. I’m looking forward to working with that later today when I get home. Going away for a bit. Coming home to me.

We also touched on some energy channeling, bringing it up through the chakras, moving it around the body, directing it, raising it. This is what I’m incredibly interested in – fascinated by. I remember when I regularly practiced wiccan macicks, and how beautiful that was – the strength it gave me, the way it opened me – but there is so much more. As beautiful as it is, it is only one small aspect of energy work, and there are entirely different worlds to explore, to learn from, to use – to grow from. She will be an amazing teacher. I’m looking forward to it. I already feel a small bit of that part coming back – the part I’ve been neglecting, the part I have forgotten in the interruption of trying to take care of life.

Silly me. I should know this. Take care of the inside, and the outside works with it.

 

I can create my own outside.

 

We talked a little about her experiences, and she said, among other things, that she was even at times able to make people orgasm solely with energy = without even touching the other person. Once even in a different state, as she tapped into the energy of someone close to her to make her stronger.

 

If I ever learn to do that – look out, Cole. You’re in for a fun ride.

 

I get to do some modeling for her in the beginning of December, which I’m also excited about, and honored that she asked me. Check out her work at www.tantragarden.com – I get to turn into something like those!

 

 

Saw one of the most amazing movies I’ve seen in a while earlier tonight, thanks to Kevin. “What the bleep do we know?” is it’s name. Truly astounding, and goes hand in hand with all that I’m being told to do.

 

The subject was Quantum Mechanics – the theories based on what the hell is going on, what energy is, and how, in each thing we do, we affect all that is around us and ourselves. We create, we manifest, absolutely everything that happens in our lives by what we say, what we think, what we feel about ourselves and others. Yeah. No shit. I could have told you that – but they did it much better.

 

Magick explained in scientific theory.

 

Go see it.

 

Alright, I have to get the fuck to sleep.

 

 

cut 'n' paste life v. …

Down to the wire.

 

Today is the day my landlord uttered the last time I talked with him on Thursday. Monday. We’ll see Monday.

 

Yeah – we’ll see. Not much, though.

 

I have next to nothing for him – two hundred dollars, no room mate to cushion the financial burden, and little in the works. Looks like the things I learned in sales are going to come in quite necessary. That, and some outright begging.

 I know things will get better soon – I know there is something just around the corner. There is nothing but possibility, nowhere to go but up. It needs to happen now.

 

I now at least have a home phone, and my internet access will be restored on the 30th, they say. Why the hell does it take so fucking long?

 

Began learning from Tantra today, we started with breathing techniques – Pranayama – certain ways to induce deep meditation. I’m looking forward to working with that later today when I get home. Going away for a bit. Coming home to me.

We also touched on some energy channeling, bringing it up through the chakras, moving it around the body, directing it, raising it. This is what I’m incredibly interested in – fascinated by. I remember when I regularly practiced wiccan macicks, and how beautiful that was – the strength it gave me, the way it opened me – but there is so much more. As beautiful as it is, it is only one small aspect of energy work, and there are entirely different worlds to explore, to learn from, to use – to grow from. She will be an amazing teacher. I’m looking forward to it. I already feel a small bit of that part coming back – the part I’ve been neglecting, the part I have forgotten in the interruption of trying to take care of life.

Silly me. I should know this. Take care of the inside, and the outside works with it.

 

I can create my own outside.

 

We talked a little about her experiences, and she said, among other things, that she was even at times able to make people orgasm solely with energy = without even touching the other person. Once even in a different state, as she tapped into the energy of someone close to her to make her stronger.

 

If I ever learn to do that – look out, Cole. You’re in for a fun ride.

 

I get to do some modeling for her in the beginning of December, which I’m also excited about, and honored that she asked me. Check out her work at www.tantragarden.com – I get to turn into something like those!

 

 

Saw one of the most amazing movies I’ve seen in a while earlier tonight, thanks to Kevin. “What the bleep do we know?” is it’s name. Truly astounding, and goes hand in hand with all that I’m being told to do.

 

The subject was Quantum Mechanics – the theories based on what the hell is going on, what energy is, and how, in each thing we do, we affect all that is around us and ourselves. We create, we manifest, absolutely everything that happens in our lives by what we say, what we think, what we feel about ourselves and others. Yeah. No shit. I could have told you that – but they did it much better.

 

Magick explained in scientific theory.

 

Go see it.

 

Alright, I have to get the fuck to sleep.

 

 

cut 'n' paste life v 0.0

Okay, okay. I get it. I know what I need to do. You’ve told me in as many ways as possible, with the exception of the removal of my eyesight and hearing.

Thanks for leaving that alone so far.

The answers are out there, all I need to do is not look for them. All I need to do is let go of everything and be silent inside. All I need to do is ignore the internal terror of how difficult it is to just simply catch up with everything that has slid down to a point where it seems to be that the entire game is perpetually trying to catch up and having it just out of reach. All I need to do is do something so alien to me I don’t even know how to begin, but if I am ever able to find that place, the answers will be waiting.

That’s all I need to do.

Anyone out there reading this, please help, if you can. Guide me or offer suggestions on how to shut the fuck up inside, how to escape the self and find The Self. How to lay my thoughts to rest, be still.

Irony is a gas. Here I am, contemplating how to stop thinking on a ThinkPad.

Jeebus.

This weeks Free Will horoscope – another blatant hint:

“To the mind that is still,” said the ancient Chinese sage Lao Tzu, “the whole universe surrenders.” This is true all the time, of course, but in the coming weeks it will be even more intensely true for you. According to traditional astrologers, that would be a problem. They believe that advising Virgos to keep their minds still is like ordering Niagara Falls to stop splashing 600,000 gallons of water per second over its precipice. But here’s my nontraditional perspective: It may be harder for you Virgos to quiet your mind, but if and when you actually accomplish it, the universe surrenders more completely to you than to any other sign. (P.S. On March 29, 1848, an ice jam stopped the flow of water over Niagara Falls for several hours.)

cut 'n' paste life v 0.0

Okay, okay. I get it. I know what I need to do. You’ve told me in as many ways as possible, with the exception of the removal of my eyesight and hearing.

Thanks for leaving that alone so far.

The answers are out there, all I need to do is not look for them. All I need to do is let go of everything and be silent inside. All I need to do is ignore the internal terror of how difficult it is to just simply catch up with everything that has slid down to a point where it seems to be that the entire game is perpetually trying to catch up and having it just out of reach. All I need to do is do something so alien to me I don’t even know how to begin, but if I am ever able to find that place, the answers will be waiting.

That’s all I need to do.

Anyone out there reading this, please help, if you can. Guide me or offer suggestions on how to shut the fuck up inside, how to escape the self and find The Self. How to lay my thoughts to rest, be still.

Irony is a gas. Here I am, contemplating how to stop thinking on a ThinkPad.

Jeebus.

This weeks Free Will horoscope – another blatant hint:

“To the mind that is still,” said the ancient Chinese sage Lao Tzu, “the whole universe surrenders.” This is true all the time, of course, but in the coming weeks it will be even more intensely true for you. According to traditional astrologers, that would be a problem. They believe that advising Virgos to keep their minds still is like ordering Niagara Falls to stop splashing 600,000 gallons of water per second over its precipice. But here’s my nontraditional perspective: It may be harder for you Virgos to quiet your mind, but if and when you actually accomplish it, the universe surrenders more completely to you than to any other sign. (P.S. On March 29, 1848, an ice jam stopped the flow of water over Niagara Falls for several hours.)

Had some time today, the Dresden Dolls show at Amoeba was cancelled because their tour bus broke down in Oregon. Wished I would have known that before I got all dressed up and went there. Luckily there is a form of communication that still works for me.

 

There was a sign on the door.

 

Primitive, yet effective, in an after the fact kinda way.

 

They better be here tomorrow, or I’m going to have about 25 floor performers pretty unhappy – I’ve been organizing them for this show. We’ve got a girl coming up from L.A. who eats light bulbs, human statues, Kitten on the Keys will be serenading the guests standing in line with her accordion, A Dark Pep Squad, The Vau de Vire society will have a presence, a cello and violin – I may just stick them in the bathroom for kicks for part of the night – and of course, a Klown Quite a challenge getting them all together with such little internet access and no phone, but I did it. . It will be beautiful.

 

 

I started copying old journals to the computer, starting on the first page of the one that leads up to the adoption shit.

 

April 24th, 1995

 

Phoenix. Pam.

Meth was my thing then – what else to do in a city where last call is at 12:30 besides stay up for days on end? Strange how it was so prevalent – though not really surprising. Everyone finds a way to escape their hell, somehow. Usually the closest thing available. That was always my choice.

 

It was incredibly strange typing it out on the computer, saying goodbye to the way I wrote then at times, going over letters over and over, words shrinking and growing with the intensity of the feeling, every last bit of what I had going down on the paper, trying desperately to get it out.

 

It took me back. I haven’t seen these in years, and now I’m reading them again.

Now I’m writing them again.

 

It’s difficult to keep it in the past, to remain detached. I’m not those people anymore. I’ve grown. I’ve learned.

 

I’ve changed.

 

Still, it’s haunting reading it, the little bit that I did, and seeing the circles. Seeing the need for someone else to bring me to me. To help me feel something. Anything. The more the better. Something to help fill the absence that the drugs created.

 

 

4.24.95

I’ve buried myself

deep inside again

so quick

so easy anymore

not to care when it isn’t

convenient.

 

Shut down

turn my back

close my eyes to the pain

and

                              walk away

from someone

who might

really

need me to stay

but can’t find a way to tell me.

 

or anyone.

 

Screaming so loud on the inside

praying that soon someone will be able to hear

the cries for help

coming out

of the tiny little holes

 

 

in her veins.

 

 

 

So just poke more holes

SLAM that dull needle home,

again and again and again and again and again and

don’t stop and don’t miss girl make sure you see the blood first because it just doesn’t have the same rush when it hits the skin and it just doesn’t have that feel you want so fucking bad so you can tell me (after I begged you not to even bring it up EVER because you KNOW how it makes me want) so you can tell me at your first fucking opportunity “I got high in the bathroom Casey” and all I can see all I want to do is SLAM that fucking needle in my arm over and over again and yeah that’s right I want to fuck the SHIT out of my vein with that needle just slam! slam! slam! until it breaks blood everywhere and my god look at my arm there’s nothing left blood and a broken rig but that’s fine I can get another rig and I like the taste of blood and I can always find another place to put a hole because if I haven’t done it to myself I’ve done it for someone else and now what the fuck were you doing Pam what the FUCK were you thinking when you told me when you kept shooting up when you kept telling me when you shot up Pam is it because you want me to join you? Is that what it is you cunt you wanted to bring me down to your misery???! You wanted to fuck MY life too because there was nothing left of yours to fuck and you weren’t quite done yet IS THAT IT??!

 

If it is, sorry to disappoint you.

 

If it is, sorry that I can’t kill you myself, but it seems like you are doing a fine job on your own.

 

Keep it up.

It will come crashing down on you.

It’s already starting.

Can’t you feel it’s weight?

 

So continue to dig, Pam, deeper and deeper your grave

and I know you’ve been there before

so why

why can’t you remember how hard it can be to get back

 

if you even can.

 

Why can’t you see you’re losing so much more

 

than me.

 

You’re losing you.

 

 

When you need help

a hand out of your hole

 

you can call me.

 

 

 

4.28/29.98

It’s enlightening to finally see

how little you care about

how much I do

 

or

 

how much I used to about you.

 

How hard I tried

to find in you

what you have tucked so deep inside

and covered so completely with your indifference

that I don’t think even you can see

the life I used to see in you.

 

Screams of pain drowned out

by your own ignorance.

 

At one point, you were alive with it. Now,

you just exist.

 

But perhaps, it is only what I wanted to see

and maybe you never were there

and maybe, you just know how to put on

a real good act

and maybe

                          maybe

these pages are being wasted

on an object

on an it.

inhuman, unfeeling.

 

I’d like to think I’m wrong.

I’ve seen you cry.

I know that you used to feel

I know that you used to care.

 

Is it me?

If so,

why?

 

I’ve detached. It’s so easy for me.

Don’t pretend that you care one minute

and the next, prove that you don’t.

 

over done finished spent oh so spent away decease decay desist destroy erase you

 

I am done.

 

 

 

I wrote differently then.

I miss the way I wrote.

 

 

I don’t miss the me from back then.

 

 

 

I can get the writing back.

cut 'n' paste life v 3.14

My laptop is back, I’m alone in bed, save for Bean sleeping at my feet.

Here, I begin the foolishness again. On with the silly little words…

I think of my next step, and wonder what it will be. I think of fate, of will, of an unknown destiny. I think of grace, beauty, and strength, I think of where life has taken me, and where it might lead.

This is a changing time. Everything is so fragile, and can go anywhere from here. I’ve had most forms of communication removed, and as much as that hinders the mundane things I must do to survive, I feel that it must be a message for me to focus on what I need to do for me. To find quiet.

If only I could focus enough to do those things.

The Now?

A fleeting dream. It will take practice to be here, with so much depending on the immediate future. The things I must do and the consequences if I don’t do them swarm in my head.

I think of my past frequently, and in thinking of it, know, without any question, that there is something for me to do here, something I have yet to accomplish. By any logical standard I should be long dead, and that’s what I tried so hard subconsciously to achieve – but I’m not. There’s a reason. I think I know I will only find that if I am able to stop wondering about it, and let it come to me. If my brain would just shut the fuck up.

That’s the trick.

I need to learn that trick.

===========================

I was thinking a couple minutes ago about death, and how simple it is.

I watched as a stranger died at my feet on a sidewalk in Phoenix, shot by some idiot in a car simply for standing up for his girlfriend. The guy in the car said something, he said something back. That’s it. Then he is falling to the curb as the car sped off outside of the club, holding his stomach. It took about ten minutes. There was nothing any of us knew what to do. I just watched, and didn’t think much of it. Didn’t feel much of anything, except sorry for his girlfriend, and wondering how this would affect the rest of her life, if it did.

A. and I were much more fortunate.
We were able to keep her alive. I’ll never forget that, but I wonder if she even has any recollection of it.
It was about thirteen years ago. I don’t know exactly because for those two years I didn’t write – not even about this. I cam home from work, sweaty, tired, happy to be home – less than two blocks from where I live now. I opened the door to my room and see her there with my ex lover, as they had become friends. T. was sitting on my bed, legs crossed, head in her hands, crying. A. was laying next to her, completely motionless, her face a horrible blue. She wasn’t breathing. She had overdosed on heroin.

Addiction is a strange thing, and after kicking T. out, three hours of CPR, walking her up and down the hall, standing together with her in the shower, jumping up and down with her in my arms as she was drenched with cold water, slapping her face as hard as I could – that’s the first time I ever slapped a woman – anything I could think of to keep her moving to make her body react and come back, until she did.

Once the terror had subsided and I knew she was going to live, I got pissed off. Infuriated.

They did all the dope.

I quit shortly after that, but that had nothing to do with my decision.

I don’t know why those times came to my mind, or why I decided to write them down for the first time here. I took nothing from them except the experience, and they mean nothing but that.

Perhaps it was just a desire to put them down so I don’t have to think about them anymore. Perhaps that’s what all of this is. Just a place to release, to unbind the thoughts that are part of my life and its construction.

A place to drain. To empty.

Or just a place for more idiotic blather as the quest continues.

cut 'n' paste life v 3.14

My laptop is back, I’m alone in bed, save for Bean sleeping at my feet.

Here, I begin the foolishness again. On with the silly little words…

I think of my next step, and wonder what it will be. I think of fate, of will, of an unknown destiny. I think of grace, beauty, and strength, I think of where life has taken me, and where it might lead.

This is a changing time. Everything is so fragile, and can go anywhere from here. I’ve had most forms of communication removed, and as much as that hinders the mundane things I must do to survive, I feel that it must be a message for me to focus on what I need to do for me. To find quiet.

If only I could focus enough to do those things.

The Now?

A fleeting dream. It will take practice to be here, with so much depending on the immediate future. The things I must do and the consequences if I don’t do them swarm in my head.

I think of my past frequently, and in thinking of it, know, without any question, that there is something for me to do here, something I have yet to accomplish. By any logical standard I should be long dead, and that’s what I tried so hard subconsciously to achieve – but I’m not. There’s a reason. I think I know I will only find that if I am able to stop wondering about it, and let it come to me. If my brain would just shut the fuck up.

That’s the trick.

I need to learn that trick.

===========================

I was thinking a couple minutes ago about death, and how simple it is.

I watched as a stranger died at my feet on a sidewalk in Phoenix, shot by some idiot in a car simply for standing up for his girlfriend. The guy in the car said something, he said something back. That’s it. Then he is falling to the curb as the car sped off outside of the club, holding his stomach. It took about ten minutes. There was nothing any of us knew what to do. I just watched, and didn’t think much of it. Didn’t feel much of anything, except sorry for his girlfriend, and wondering how this would affect the rest of her life, if it did.

A. and I were much more fortunate.
We were able to keep her alive. I’ll never forget that, but I wonder if she even has any recollection of it.
It was about thirteen years ago. I don’t know exactly because for those two years I didn’t write – not even about this. I cam home from work, sweaty, tired, happy to be home – less than two blocks from where I live now. I opened the door to my room and see her there with my ex lover, as they had become friends. T. was sitting on my bed, legs crossed, head in her hands, crying. A. was laying next to her, completely motionless, her face a horrible blue. She wasn’t breathing. She had overdosed on heroin.

Addiction is a strange thing, and after kicking T. out, three hours of CPR, walking her up and down the hall, standing together with her in the shower, jumping up and down with her in my arms as she was drenched with cold water, slapping her face as hard as I could – that’s the first time I ever slapped a woman – anything I could think of to keep her moving to make her body react and come back, until she did.

Once the terror had subsided and I knew she was going to live, I got pissed off. Infuriated.

They did all the dope.

I quit shortly after that, but that had nothing to do with my decision.

I don’t know why those times came to my mind, or why I decided to write them down for the first time here. I took nothing from them except the experience, and they mean nothing but that.

Perhaps it was just a desire to put them down so I don’t have to think about them anymore. Perhaps that’s what all of this is. Just a place to release, to unbind the thoughts that are part of my life and its construction.

A place to drain. To empty.

Or just a place for more idiotic blather as the quest continues.

cut 'n' paste life v 0.3

Sipping plastic bottle scotch in bed – the last of it. It’s a cold and rainy night outside, I listen to and adore the sound of cars as their tires whisper by on the wet street under my window.

Watching Angel Heart. Good flick, haven’t seen it for a while. Means more now. I see more now.

I hope the weather clears up at least a little bit before she arrives tomorrow morning – this is no way to welcome her. She deserves more.

She deserves a lot more.

Maybe meditation would help, if I could ever be quiet enough to find it.
Maybe I should do other things – the things that used to ground me, make me feel right inside – better – closer to whole.

hope.

There is something more out there – something so much more important than these day to day trivialities. Something that could make everything make sense, if it ever will. But if I taste it, what will I do? Will it just be touched upon, glanced over and perhaps studied for a bit, as so much else has in my life? Swirled around to appreciate the flavor, but never swallowed.

I look around at my room, see the trails I’ve followed in finding, always meaning to return to them, but always not.
Where is that part of me that knows how to stay? The knowledge is there.
The knowledge is waiting.

Here is someone who could be everything he wants to inside and knows it, but instead the whole of the inside remains hidden and he plays incessant games dabbling with what might bring him home, but never walking through the door.

Perhaps it comes too close.

Perhaps he wants to remain absent – a perpetual runaway, so things don’t really have to matter as much, and he can float along in his dreams.

I don’t know.

I would like to.

If I did, then maybe he could change.