| October 1, 2008 |
[03 Nov 2008|12:04am] |
So yesterday marks my first day of college. My teachers are super-average and my Basic Design class is going to cost me a lot of money that I don't have to spend. I'm not making any rash decisions just yet. To be honest, I enjoyed the day quite a bit.
I must get a call from Panda Express or McUnmentionable. Panda Express interview was promising, the next few days will decide the fate of my sanity. Here we go. Oh, I also have a mad list I need to knock out for tomorrow. I lost my wallet a few days ago so I have to pick up those pieces and et cetera.
I've had a few good days recently. It's crazy. I can't think right now. And I'm sick. I'm really going to write a lot more when I feel less fatal.
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| "What do you do with the pieces of a broken heart? And how can a man like me remain in the light?" |
[02 Nov 2008|09:53pm] |
My eyes feel like heat and it means I get no sleep. This week for me, is my gradual shift into a morning person. Meaning nothing but good mornings and productive days. I even prepare the coffee pot the night before, I don't know how I can imagine myself jogging every morning half-conscious, pre-caffienated, let alone leaving the blanket in the sleeping quarters and waking up to my alarm continually. I will sometime, I suppose. I'm not gonna spit absoluts, let alone predictions about my near-to-distant future because it's just too stressful. As long as I do everything I can to change my current situation, to leave behind old worries, to jump away from cycles (ones I'm aware of and not), to peel this onion, to know this onion, to look you in the eyes, near future's in the clear. Essentially, like N.A. would say: One Step At A Time. So cliche. So okay.
There's this job search and it's baggage.
There's deadlines and duties and their baggage.
There's my body, mind, and spirit, and their pains. I'm sorting through ideals one step at a time.
When I get scared and overwhelmed by my incompetent brain I get heat flashes. What does this mean?
Just like this, what else is there to write but everything? And I just can't do everything right now.
Shit's groovin' so I'm gonna put some marijuana on the tip of my cigarette and smoke it like a one-hitter for a moment of smokeee.
Things I don't get:
Right-wing Republicans.
Japanese mock shows.
Customer Service.
Everything, etc.
Too much to not remember, there's a way to do this, but I can't grasp. Something real later. My face hurts.
A constant supply of money would be revolutionary right now. A job before school starts? I'm on it. Really.
I want the brunette opposite Michael Cera in that trailer, a creature like that would be a wonderful addition to my life in like, four months.
And I'm so ready to feel comfortable wearing dark colors and long socks and layers around my torso.
$150 worth of food for three people? We fail. Better luck next time, right? Grocery shopping is hard and such a pet peeve of mine.
I need medicine all around, I want the opiate of wine to swirl all around inside of me and out my mouth in scent. OMG.
i can do this?
It's really September 9th, 2008.
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| August Twenty, I'm Twenty |
[01 Nov 2008|09:04pm] |
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I have 68 hours of community service due on October 3rd. This shouldn't be, but is the least of my priorities. I'm going to do it on the days I don't have anything important to do. I can't really see all of this working out too gracefully. Like getting a job, starting college, and still having time to waste a full day on some idiotic consequence that doesn't even feel deserved. There's no way out of it, either. I'll be so glad to get all of this legal trouble erased. I feel as if I have to walk an extra 10 miles for everyone else's one. In every field. But I'm glad to be starting school, and I'm glad to be living where I'm living. Everything seems to be more complicated than it should. Oh well. It is. Really. Steps upon stairwell upon Steps upon...
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| I Am List-Maker |
[31 Oct 2008|05:47pm] |
I announce this: I am sitting here pleasantly stoned, feeling the warm buzzing, fuzzy high and slight heaviness cover me like a blanket.
The combination of coffee and ciarettes is paridoxical. And it is satisfying.
Ben and I have spent the past two weeks together and now the dynamics are of three since his wife has gotten back from Alaska. Ben and Pheonix have decided to let me stay for a season or so. Enough time for me to do all the tired things I need to do. For that, I am immensely grateful. I have thanked Ben numerous times, but I have yet to officially dispell my gratitude to both of them. I really do feel better about things, my lay of the land as of late. Still slightly wrecked from events I have learned to call traumatic. I try not to see them at all.
Old favorites. Common threads.
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| Test #1 or #5 |
[31 Oct 2008|05:02pm] |
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Okay, this livejournal thinks that it's October 30th or 31st and it's really confusing me, I have to change the date in order for it to appear in sequence with the older posts.
The real date is August 10th, 2008.
On Monday I will wake up well rested and take all the steps I have to take to get what needs to be done, done.
And then the rest of the week will be spent doing community service. This is gross and there's no way of avoiding it, or even enjoying doing it, or feel that it's a necessary punishment, yet I have to do it or the consequences will rabidly reproduce.
I am on the toilet right now, no joke. I'm more than half-stoned.
Looking at the world differently than you did yesterday is a good exercise.
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| ******-*** in Heaven |
[28 Oct 2008|02:02pm] |
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mood |
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 contemplative |
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I have two dirt-filled notebooks in my posession and they're weighing me down. Literally and figuratively. List after list recounts all my responsibilities, my losses, and my desires from the minute to the vague. The problem is that I'm not exactly aware of the things I need to do, only during the time of documenting when I'm tugging at the archives. It's hard to remember. It's hard to be remembered. All I know is that my focus needs to be on finding independence and dealing with the whole package. It's quite pretentious of me to think I can work this out. I am already deep in debt, personally and otherwise and I technically don't exist to the government, once again. I have my near-future goals and I need to practice those, for no yards will be traveled unless I dodge some traffic and move my legs, quickly. A young adult plus this country minus motivation and proper framework equals a very confused and overwhelmed me. Just a scared little rabbit who fears everyone hates him for the few seemingly unchangeable characteristics. I will be alright. I will be alright. I will O.K.
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| Value, Worth, Focus |
[14 Oct 2008|04:45pm] |
Energy sprouts like a seed on speed and quickly dissapears. Recollection and inspiration are the same, they appear and dissapear, usually when I'm glued to something and unable to document.
Tomorrow, foggy and early, dark and smelly, I will begin to do something, something that I've been telling myself to do for a season and maybe more. I found out today that David a forged friend threw away a crate and bag that belonged to me, simply because I was too afraid to call on a daily basis, followed by me actually acquiring a whole bunch of shit I would have no idea where to place. I would be standing next to too many pounds thinking, "I'm such an idiot." My fears are small like ants, each ant fulfilling a sinister duty, to erase pace and motivation.
I have no identification recognizable by any government organization. Goddamnit. Losing stuff seems to be my greatest accomplishment thus far. This includes wearing people out to the point of hatred and heartless punishment, far from reason. I understand what I do.
I've been finishing books and I finally got a CD player. The past couple weeks have been the most difficult to survive through, and the most peculiar depression has been handed to me.
If I want to post an update I have to change the year to 2008. What the hell?
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| It's All Obscured |
[07 Oct 2008|01:49pm] |
I started this new season out just perfectly. With a dark, terrible sickness. Feverish and all, digestion and nasal problems still linger on. I'm not prepared for this weather and it's shrinking everything. I need a warm, long, puffy coat. I miss my old coats, where have they all gone?
I called my mom during the height of my flu and she actually showed some mercy for once, she offered to help, if I follow strict guidelines while under her wing. Is that what it will be if I call her again, soon, rest under her wing? I can barely remember wings being a factor in my childhood. I can, but it's hard and distant. Everything behind this moment seems so distant and out of order when I try to figure out when anything occured. I mean, anything. The seasons don't even serve as checkpoints. She will make me go to rehab. Then will she let me stay at her house and try to find a job and acquire some kind of diploma? There seems to be some barriers. I'm going to wait until Friday to make any bold movements. For this week will see me tying up some loose ends and possibly making a large mistake. I've been sober as a button for about a week and a half, I simply was too sick to pursue any urges.
I really need a portable CD player, it's disheartening everytime I think of the new albums I've acquired but can't hear.
The Forum appt. still holds a lot of my property and hopefully will until I'm ready to move it somewhere more safe, a place without any hostility towards "junk" like me.
I believe all the shit I left on Fisher Rd. is still safe in that little shed I put it all in.
I lost my wallet yesterday. It was full of important things. Yesterday was an awful excuse for a day. I just got that wallet. I'm broke now. I lose too many things, but when I'm close to clear-headed and I do something so absent-headed it really makes me implode.
I've been very tired for quite some time now.
I've been sleeping an average of seven hours, maybe.
And I've been eating consistently, for the most part.
The patterns that have gotten me into trouble are more than ever visible now.
I feel all I have left to do is complain, but that's far from the truth.
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[17 Sep 2008|06:38pm] |
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Here's how I feel: I have no understanding of anything. I can't verbalize a single thought without wanting to stomp out what I just said. It's difficult for me to describe why I feel a certain way about a certain topic. This is a problem. When will I become more human? I don't know what I believe. I'm definitely searching.
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| Chaos Mad Chaos Sad |
[15 Sep 2008|05:31am] |
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Yes, yes, how I try so hard to consolidate the years, make sense of all this fragmentation and all my shenanigans. It's rediculous. I need help to pull me from this lull, to hand me hope and a little bit of time, only to be left on my own two feet once again. But really, it would light my fire again, I just need a fucking break. I can't catch it. And all of this, I can't shake. Nothing about my life isn't awful at this point. All tenses, from all different angles. I'm in shambles, I have no hope, I live in the past, or the moment. Usually scrambling to get something I think I need. Or really, really, do need and want. Brody is helping me out tonight, which means I will have to go to church tomorrow. I am hoping to get a few things sorted out tonight and tomorrow, mainly compulsive, obessive things, but it helps me get by, ya dig? I bought ten dollars worth of books today, which was entirely unnessesary, given my situation, but I made the choice in hopes of really finding a novel to read from start to finish. An exercise that has been more difficult recently. I have my selected essays and poems and non-fiction, but I felt a new, fresh novel would be a breeze of fresh, air. Run through the range of emotions, exercise. I hate everyone around me. I hate something about each person. I'm very irritable. I've been quite the monster lately. Unable to fight off my demons. Continuous acts of desparation, for what else am I to do? How else does one survive in this state? How did I end up here? What was the catalyst? What could have better prepared me for life on my own? Why have I ruined so many oppurtunities? Spat on clean hands projected toward mine? Brody and Andrew have helped a great deal as of recent times. I commit no selfless acts anymore, besides the occasional cigarette loan. I owe a lot of money to a lot of people and organizations. You come to me. I am apart from 95% of my property 95% of the time. It's been like this for two years, 95% of the time. I gain new materials. I lose old and new materials. Over and over. People steal from me, and then lie. People borrow and don't return. I make lists of where everything is and it helps me cope. How much have I forgotten? Property lost and not noticed? Over the months, how many boxes of things have been forgotten about? Books and spirals left at any given place? So much losing. So much. Propery and other, more tangible things. I fantasize about the day I get to sit back, still as a tree, and observe my collections. Sleep surrounded by all that I have acquired. Alone. Still. Content. Ready to fall asleep qick, and wake up next to a buzzing alarm clock, preceding a fine breakfast of oatmeal, Activia, one egg, and a banana. And of course, following that is a long, hard day at work. Repeat. Oh, god, now I'm confused again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I need to start listening again, I jumped into the game again way too soon. I enjoy Marijuana more these days (much like in the past), and that's a step in the right direction. It still suffocates me and makes me bloat. I was spittin' the finest rhymes, recalling LL Cool J, on Friday, layered over the finest acoustic soul groove, it was like pink corn dog sticks free-falling into a sea of African-American, CLEAN vagina oil. Yes. Mill Race and those noisy guys were fabulous this evening. Happy thoughts. Morphine. Sam Wise tried to defend the name "Bleeding Hearts," and I tried not to disrespect his band. But I did. Okay, my property will be safe until it's saved by me. Promise me. Please. Fuck you, naysayers.
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| Later Now |
[06 Sep 2008|12:21pm] |
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It's an early hour on thursday morning. Bjork is softening my mind, the lights are low and I'm not conventionally tired. I might have made a fool of myself yesterday, I was acting quite the spazz. I tend to feel like a fool in retrospect on a lot of encounters with people I know and cherish. Time will tear bonds apart, that's for sure. But goodness is usually still there. Creatively, mentally, spiritually, physically and circumstantially I'm in a funk. It feels for real this time. Like, I'm actually working towards something. I have an employer now, who has been understanding. Either Friday or Saturday will be my fourth day working. I've been late two times already. I wonder how it will play out. I'm confident, yet worried. Everyone seems to be more worried for me, it sort of hits hard when someone tries to be supportive by not taking my words seriously. I will accomplish what I want to. I have to leave this place, the forum, on Saturday. Not looking forward or backward in good spirits. Adrian has slightly agreed to move in to an affordable, tiny space with me, that is, if I find one suiting our needs by Saturday. If not I will most likely give up and sleep on some random floor. I hate that. I hate that with a passion. I've made a personal home in too many spaces belonging to others. It should have been womb to bedroom, to dormroom or apartment, and then to anywhere once my independence is practiced. Not like this. I know no discipline, work ethic, knowledge of economics and the required formalities, for I don't give a shit and I've felt the consequences. Adrian agrees to pay much more than I will if I set up the gig. I start when the sun rises, or something like that. I have some leads, I pray for good outcomes. I missed Devendra a couple days ago. I could have aquired free tickets and a ride from Katelin, but I lost focus of the event and its date when other things started happening for the better. My life is still this perpetual car crash I've been experiencing over and over. I'm sick of continual rebirth and recycled understandings. I'm looking in on meditation and all things dealing with perception and consciousness. I'm going to get serious about dream analysis. I truly need a psychiatrist. That would be great. I may end up having to visit a rehab depending on how my paychecks are spent. I'm not reading or sleeping or breathing enough. I am excercising enough. And being frustrated, discontent. Back to my creations. I want to put a halt to it all. Focus on my job, peace of mind, and gaining self-sustainability. Simplify my complicated day. It all is temporary, as it always is. I will love the love that it is in this town, according to my standards and take advantage of the oppurtunities when they arise. To spend time alone, or not? It doesn't help my social life, but I'm drawn to it. I've lived without it for long periods of time before and it's quite a relief, actually. But anyways, I'm done with the guitar, I'm done with trying to sing, I'm done with scribbling poetry (mainly done with trying to pair melodies/lyrics to my guitarwork, which is miserable, a miserable experience), I'm done doodling. Really. I will maybe do simple prose, make lists, document some pretty words for future use, and I will sometime very soon aquire a camera. This is what I want. I have for a long time. I will buy a camera. I will be buying rent, hopefully, with my one and only paycheck until the second one, on Saturday or earlier. I need my own place. So does Adrian. He's willing to pay the bulk and lend me task of next month's rent. Please, universe, re-arrange my luck to be fit for this to happen. Holy shit, I need it so bad. I have property here and at Dakota's. Plus all that is scattered. I'm now going to make a list of objectives for tomorrow. 1. Wake at a reasonable hour, do laundry, get ready, drink coffee, eat, smoke, gather my things and head out the door toward the nearest bus stop. 2. Retrieve my bike from Lancaster. 3. When downtown, drop off letter and cardboard box at Katy's apartment. 4. Start searching for a living space of a cheap fucking price; ask around, follow these leads: Matt Rose has insider information, Z. Thunder mumbled something about Liberty and Ferry, I bought coke from a guy who resided in a townhouse off of State, worth a try? Communal bathrooms? Is Adrian even down with that type of joint? I know nothing more. 5. Go to the Book Habit, fiddle 'round, ask 'round, get some drank, shit. 6. Make these calls before late afternoon: D.A.'s office, D.M.V., I'm forgetting something important. I'm done. Fuck. As long as I wake up before noon I should be able to accomplish what I know I need to accomplish, it's somewhere in the back of my mind. Damn. I feel kind of messy. I had so much up here earlier. Meh! Meh! Meeehhhh! I gotta quit smoking, but I won't anytime soon.
*acquired
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| knick-knack |
[03 Sep 2008|01:08pm] |
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Since my first day at work I've done nothing but sleep. It's hard to wake up, allowing myself ample time to get ready and ride my bike to Lancaster, all before five. It poses many problems, this desperate job I've accepted. I now know my time here, in the Forum ends when I've reached the "two week limit". I know not where I will go after the week's end. Any possible places I can think of are not without more and more sacrifice, and I'm not even close to sure about anything yet. I mean anything, I'm embracing the contradictions, though. Gaining a new set of eyes, as I always am. But it's different this time. I will delay my worries for a worse time. I need a shower. Alcohol has been out of system for the most part, and anyways, it only makes me ill. I wouldn't pass on a stiff drink. I've been keeping my mind busy. I've been pissed off at so many people and things. Mainly formal things. My new i.d. card is being sent to Katy's apartment, what the fuck? My Visa card is empty and has been, surpassing the point where it shouldn't be. I have a pile of debt staring me in the eyes. Oh, god. I have to get to bed early tonight, ensuring an on-time arrival at work tomorrow morning. My feet will hurt. I won't let the near future's dagger their way with me. Until it's too late.
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| In Rose (I'm so far from being happy it's sickening) |
[31 Aug 2008|10:29pm] |
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Here I am again, in a lull, waiting for an oppurtunity to fall into my viewplane. I'm never not tired and I'm never not sick, especially in the past few weeks. My property is most troubling. I can't stop fantasizing about a place where all of my things can rest, where my mind can rest and I can learn to forget about my troubles. A place of routine, simplicity and stillness. I know I will find another job soon, but it's hard to find the motivation, once again, when I'm feeling so down. I truly am bone-dry right now. I have nothing. My old manager sent my check in the mail, unrightfully so. She "didn't expect me to pick it up" when she knew I knew when checks get there? What a bitch. I may recieve it later today, if Dakota or someone who lives there will answer the fucking phone. I've been wastintg away, the only love I'm finding is in sleep, where I can't feel my aches, can't dwell on my shortcomings, can't let awkward conversations ruin my day, besides the subconscious kind, which quickly dissapear after a few minutes of hyper-heartbeats, vague recollections, and confusing awakenings. My stomach is all kinds of fucked up. My head is full of fear. I just can't catch a break. I need help. I need some slight stability to be able to do anything really good for me, something to clean up this mess, for the millionth time.
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| close encounters |
[28 Aug 2008|04:29am] |
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mood |
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 frustrated |
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laptop hates me and my long, liberating blogs. i'm way done. these most confusing days when i need to do this the most, i do, and then all of a sudden. it's gone. and i didn't do it.
tomorrow i bring to doller tree i.d. card and a promise to apply for s.s.c. (complete application)
i work all day hopefully.
give plasma.
return mitch's guitar at three depending.
my habits have been super-troubling. to the point of pure-confusion. how serious is serious.
i can't say what i want or need, honestly. i still want to get high. yet i want to feel healthy and be clean.
and i want to see more clearly. a long break would help. but that's impossible unless i go to rehab.
i'm not ready to give up this dirty stuff yet. kills.
nothing absolute. this is quite the problem. everytime rehab sounds pretty. oppurtunities arise.
ask tenants how long i am welcome. done with being away from my things.
moment by moment. easiest. no near future. my best effort is put forth.
once simple and formal is solid... my creativity will run wild. this i know for sure. drugs are endurance. it's in me.
being with jeremiah was very pleasant today. tomorrow will be sober like button. contain myself. every scrap.
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| Intensity and intimacy can be tasty words |
[17 Aug 2008|02:09pm] |
Trouble with the law and self-pity. Some of my problems seem so frequent and tired, like I've been making them worse ever since childhood. Realizations of this sort sadden me.
How many times have I been arrested? Damn. That's an ugly burden.
I need to find out when my marion county court date will be, and I need to call my court-appointed attorney before my next polk county court date. State, city, and county departments, what the hell's the difference?
Past and future linger around every present moment, and that's something I should have fixed a long time ago. That's why life is never fun! And it's why my life is/has been without rhythm for so long. A psychic man told me many frightening things about myself one night after puchasing my 40's. Intense, it was.
I've lost so much property! So much re-building. I've been feeling this way for a long time, thus creating a rut of immobility. I really do want to see America and more. Learning is always going to keep me busy and excited, it will forever be something to get excited for.
Seattle was good to me. I miss it already. Some unmentionables smother my time there, but it was (obviously) still lovely. The show was fucking brilliant. My fever hit hard right when I returned from Seattle. I stayed up all night counting kick drum hits on Harvest and sipping soup and tea. It was a tough night, following days as well. Timing there was strictly awful.
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| Still a Lousy Machine, Advanced, No Panic, No! |
[17 Aug 2008|01:54pm] |
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What's left to ramble about once my notebook is full? I don't like repeating myself, if I'm conscious of it. It's very stressfull. I've been bumping into friends. I've been overall, a sober man. Amount of time is needless to say. Overall works just fine. The little things that I've lost, or need to lose, or that have been misplaced and are barely accessable through a lot of vigorous work are still keeping my brain from unclutter-ness. And down to the little things again, my habit of disregarding tangible littles things is getting me into trouble. Leaving the lights on behind me. Having an "excuse" for each request/complaint. Keep in mind, I'm a reasonable man and am not one for wrongful accusation. I fucking hate people who automatically assume truths about something outside of their own existence. Since the fateful day I walked outside of Safeway in handcuffs many, many, a time ago I've dealt with police too often. From m.i.p.'s to theft charges of recent, I've accumulated a hefty debt owed to the government. Various buildings and phone numbers and names and dates have been foce-fed to me and it's a heinous meal. I may make situations worse by disregarding the impotance, but I can't help it, these formalities hold no importance to me, and in my opinion, the world.
I've been running around with a bus pass, accomplishing things. I've been buying records again and it's feels like a dream. That's a big step, simply buying something I really want, something healthy that I want.
Law of Attraction!
I've been borderline feverish! for quite some time now, but I'm pushing through and vaguely trying to use physics, but it's tough work. I understand the control my mind has over my body. But logic and optimism play a mean tennis match (battle).
My residence is near Lancaster. The goal is to simplify, I've been stripped of many things. My guitar is in Dallas. There are strict guidelines I must follow in this house of the Gibsons, Grandmother Chicken, the Grandchildren, and the mentally-disabled residents the house is alive for, essentially. It's a care home and Dakota's family just happen to have nowhere else they can stay. Their help is unmeasurable, thus I'm living there as well. Uber-temporary this situation is. I've been striving for rhythm, I thought I'd give it a shot, you know. I hear it helps a little man's life. I want to be important here. First I have to be independent and I'm close to that. Self-respect is another lack I'm working on, John Gibson, Dakota's father thinks he knows me more than I do and that's something I've been having to deal with. It's a tiny sacrifice. I need to keep my lips sealed, so that the boat won't sink. And questions are like an oar's movement. It's going to help. Yardwork and my search for employment are what need to be my main focus. So I'm going to "man-up" and "get her done." These people have no obligation to me, I just wish they'd understand a little more than my substance afflictions, I have tiny obligations of my own and I've been conquering - they don't see that happening, 'cos their at work, or just close-minded. I've been more motivated than I ever have been and that's an absolute statement. The steps breakdown, only to make more. I've aquired an infinite list half-remembered over the past couple of years and am just starting to tackle it. I guess it can wait... more waiting?
Dope is waiting and I'm done with it. Whiskey is amazing but really screws with my health. Oh, I'm making some conscious decisions these days. It feels good. I'd rather feel physically good, because I can't take it any longer. I still bought something from Evan the other day. But I made a toast to moderation and became super-nautious. So. There. I'm mobbin' deep. Internet applications.
I'm having trouble with dreams!, this time it's different... Phases, they're all over.
Fuck restless. Fuck nervous. Fuck boredom. Fuck inability. Fuck celibacy! Fuck.
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[10 Aug 2008|03:15am] |
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This is only a test. I have nothing important to post right now (or ever.)
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| No More Littering! |
[17 Jul 2008|11:51am] |
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mood |
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 anxious |
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Oh, to try and describe my feelings and troubles again. To summarize an increment of time fragmented by my lapse of memory among other things. I've had a few interesting run-ins recently in this old town. This dirty fucking town. It's now raining and I'm a bit hazed by lack of sleep. I've been making shortlists and trying to get things done. My immediate plan right now is to thrift-shop super quick and then maybe do laundry, along with a shower. But this small town coffee shop is so homely. Oh wait, nevermind, the internet is holding me back from my excursion. That and the weather that is slowly becoming more becoming. I've been losing things perpetually, money being one of them, but I somehow acquired the same amount I lost last night. I also came across a wonderful stolen beach-cruiser. It's red like the Corvette I dreamed of having as a child. It was planned like this: I would wear all red, and drive a red corvette. Somewhere along the way I would fight crime. Or just look really cool, I don't know what that dream was all about. But now I have a bike and everything makes more sense. I can travel places! I've been drifting like a dragonfly. It's bone-dry solitude, you could say, or is it singularity? I don't really care. At this point, I'm caring about myself only. Enjoying the marrow, but truly being a piece of shit. I'm okay with that. I'm not trying to find a new residence because I have plans for that and more to be practiced in due time. I'm a lone-ranger, roaming these streets I know, wondering where you are. I'm really sick of it all (hehe). I'm looking in on a sterile month ahead of me, soon enough, I'm going to focus on capital and... something else. Oh yeah, feeding my brain. I'm making no absolutes to myself about substance abuse but I think I want to steer clear from it all forever. I know that won't happen, but the magic that some sterile solitude and convalescence could do to a rag and bone guy like me, it's dreadful and exciting. I want to be in a state where I don't have to write redundant, self-involved blogs like this. I want some stability. I want it really bad. And it's so simple, I once again, have to just conjure up the motivation to accomplish something beneficial for my well-being. My mother said she'd make some calls. My sister happens to be headed out the door every time I pass out on her porch. My bike has been my companion recently. I have a tribal blanket wrapped around a grip of stuff that I've acquired and had before coming here, yet it's stuck inside of a church. Or... if my luck plays a role (luck, meh) it's at the dump. I haven't been sleeping, and it's been okay. I really came to Dallas with the main goal of purchasing one of my last favorite feelings. But it's all wrong. So other things suffice for now. I know that I can do this. Wednesday I'm making some money. And Summerfest is coming up, so that will be interesting in the sentimental/bullshit kind of way, and I believe I'm seeing the new filler Harry Potter film at the drive-in with some summer dress girls. I really don't know. Retaining important facts and dates is becoming increasingly hard for me to do. If I write a list, there's no way to remember the necessary "numbers on the list" and I need to accept that. Shortlists are where it's at. Remembering parts of reality, is similar to desperately trying to remember happenings in dreams, for me at least. The more I try, the less is remembered. I recall a feeling, feel it again, and build off of that. Feelings rule my world, mainly my favorite feelings and my least favorite feelings. Being arrested really fucked things up in a good way, being legally excluded from Downtown Salem has it's perks. I wrestled with it for awhile and then accidentally ended up here. And my Huffy Good Vibrations rolled in front of me. It's groovy and it rides like it has gears. Yes. I'm still wrestling with being here, honestly, but I've been too aimless and attention deficit (scattered) to acknowledge. Break and breathe, break and breathe. The snap, the shake, the clap, the dance. Love is a four-letter word for all I know, all I know is that I crush a lot and I miss old girlfriends, yet cringe at the thought of a second chance. That's no worry or actually, anything. A black man has my bag. A Russian has my other bag. A traveled path somewhere between here and South Salem has a bag of mine. My sister confessed she gave my belongings to Goodwill. She probably lied because she either wants some of my stuff, or she was simply too tired from being a full-time "Mother." Sam and Molly have my laundry and miscellaneous stuff. Stephanie has a box, a bag, and a suitcase of mine. Katy has a lot of my books still and a bunch of other things. And the rest is wicked important, but miniscule and too much to type right now. I can't believe I've let materials be such a stressor in my life. But given the abundance of losses and heavy events, it makes sense. I'm doing it again. My mind will be occupied properly in a few minutes. I am off. I care not for misspellings. But I will soon. When I say 'soon' and make promises to myself, it's truly out of hope and realizations. Although, I could possibly sell coke if I made it happen, it will have to depend on my feelings. And it really wouldn't be worth it, unless, of course, other circumstances were a bit more comfortable. I’m not letting the property I've lost recently disappear, or become obsolete to me, because I seriously just purchased all the cards in my wallet and one of them is my ticket to get cash. I believe my child support is going to be cut off anyways, but still. High School's not real. The fact that I tried to gain the proper credits three times and failed, makes it even more unreal. I need to put on a different pair of shoes. But of course, they're in Salem. It's been strictly random ever since I got here, last Friday. And before that, it was as well, I was living with a girl and two guys for a few days. It was fun. We had some Salvia. I could explain. And before that, after the jail incidents, I was paranoid and drunk at the same time. Curious... Well, I'm being ridiculous and making sickly happen, so farewell, Live journal.
p.s.
Daft Punk and The Rapture are totally going to blow my mind on the 29th, Rapture might just please my ears, but the robots... Thank you, Christopher, we're gonna. make it. happen. My birthday will be a day to laugh. I'm gonna breathe and listen. Right now. And roll. out. One more thing, another factor getting in the way of the good life plans of the other realm is an open apartment, super cheap and already christened by my drunken self, also, in this old town there are many job opportunities. I really need to read Catch 22 like Beanie told me to years ago.
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moonshinebandit's journal
curious