Back and forth, digging deep. Today I went from San Francisco to Colorado, then to Austin, reliving every thing that happened along the way those years ago, all of those lifetimes ago.
I don’t edit much – just read, tcorrecting errors, trying to figure out where to put chapters – at times taking out a paragraph of drunken rambling, but very seldom. There is a rawness that I want to be there – nothing is refined.
I was let go from the Dresden Dolls again, and didn’t cry this time.
Bean passed again, and I didn’t cry this time – only a bit in the words I wrote about her over the years before she left…
I sit on the front stoop at Boe’s house, where he has been kind enough to let me camp out a bit and care for my leg, but I feel as if I should go soon – I don’t want to take advantage of his kindness, and he has been incredibly kind – but this is his home. Mine is the van. Another appointment at the Hospital tomorrow, and we’ll see what they say. The worst, I believe, has passed, and I must move on soon – I’m thinking by the end of the weekend. It’s been really nice being able to make hot meals and get things that need to be refrigerated, It’s been wonderful hanging out with him, but – as always these days, I am nothing but a guest. It’s all I have been for far too long. I want a home.
I need to fix my leg, work, pay off debts and find my own home. The strange excitementof living out of my van has been fun to a degree, but it has gotten old, very quickly. I’m certain that the cause of this infection is partially the result of not being able to shower everyday – not that I ever get incredibly dirty – just unclean.
The other part is stress.
Summer is here, and it’s time to get down to the Wharf and start making money – it’s time to finish this bookthing I’m doing, and find a publisher for it. I have absolutely no idea how to go about doing that -but I’ll figure it out…though if anyone has any suggestions or connections, I would really appreciate them. I believe that this dream is goig to happen, to come through. It’s almost ready – just a couple more weeks. Boe’s place has been wonderful – constant power,light, internet connection – so much work I was able to get done on this thing while simultaneously caring for my leg, and the bried glorious naps brought on by the pain meds and the energy my body looses in focusing on healing. I’m never not tired these days.
That worries me, just a bit – but fuck, the strength of my body constantly suprises me, and I know I’lll be fine.
~ It was nice today. I had the photos that Nightshade printed out for me last night sitting on Boe’s table so the ink could cure, the ones I sold recently. Boe looks at them this afternoon, takes a second, then says “Fuck, is there anything you can’t do?” I think a moment, then reply “Well – I can’t lick my balls?” He laughed – but his words resounded in me. Sure, there are many things I can’t do right now – but nothing that, if I set my mind to, I couldn’t with time and effort.
It took me years and years to believe that – but anything IS possible. Not just for me, either. I only have the advantage of passionate desperation to give as much as I can – but really, it’s so much more than that. What I do is my validation, when people like it, or don’t. If it evokes any kind of emotion, that is my validation. That proves to me that I am alive. I question that sometimes, for many reasons.
I have been called an apparition, an illusion. Perhaps I am – but perhaps I am a being that just might help you realize that you are too, and everything I go through, everything I do, just might help someone remember themselves. That is the sole reason that I am puttting what I wrote in book form.
I wrote so much better then – there was always something in the future, there was always a sanctuary and always an escape. Somehow, even in the abyss of not knowing where the next day would lead, there was an excitement combined with a strange qround because of it…
Yeah. I think I know now. Even in that time in Colorado, where everything that I had become went away – The Dresden Dolls, my beautiful Brigade went away, when I had nowhere to go but everywhere except backwards to San Francisco with my tail between my legs, I still had Bean. I still had My Bean, and I learned so much in watching her. In my sorrow she sniffed, pissed, came to me and let me pet her and seeemed as if she was listening while I put words to my tears. She was in heaven, never stopped smiling. I cried, she watched the squirrels up in the tree, waiting for them to come down so that they could play.
Watching her, I learned a lot from her quickly.
See the beauty of the smallest things. Pay attention. Eat well, and keep smiling. Know the true value of your friends. Nothing is bad, just a bit challenging at times. Sometimes people may cross the street to avoid you, but the next person will probably give you the words you want and scratch your butt. Trust your instincts. Drink lots of water. Never be afraid to show someone how much you love them.
Play. Always play and always smile when you want to – and smile as often as possible. Don’t be afraid to explore. Be patient – the ones that count will always come back. Let someone know if you have a scratch that you can’t reach, and hopefully they will notice and scratch it for you. Check in with the people you love – they may be pissed at being woken up, but just after that they will laugh and give you one of the best hugs you have ever had.
Words mean nothing, but listen to actions, listen to your feelings. Not everyone is someone you want to have in your life. Protect your friends,
and watch out for trains. They’re beautiful, but…
(I don’t want to tell you how many times after she left I seriously considered following her, popping out of the bushes – I had the perfect place. I have never said this before, to anyone…)
Yeah. She was my ground. My peace.
This is a fragile life. I do with it what I can, always trying to grow. Got a great gig coming up, a private party breathing fire, good money. Occasionally things like this pop up, but not frequently enough. It’s my writings that I hope will break me past the barrier, the book that I am creating. I need to figure out how this completely unknown writer might get this thing published – and perhaps help some people, perhaps get my life back in motion.
Anyone know how to do this? The publishig thing?
The editing is close to done – about a week away, power permitting, and I would be happy to send it as an attachment to some people. If you would be willing to read it, give me constructive criticism – please let me know.
Time to stop writing. Nothig good will come if I continue…