“I’m like miles of gold and silver” they said.

I find myself in the absolute worst places around 5am. And thus minds completely wonder why people who perform all the time take their own lives when piles after piles of things begin to fall and stagger. It’s a wavering cost right in front of your face, and it pulls at you from the direct underbelly of the weight that cements itself to you all at once. The frailty of falling, over and over again – and the magnitude of wires that you wrap around your face just so that you can feel something else for a fraction of a moment. You let it take you somewhere, and then you let it be a prelude to any type of resolution that you just fucking may be able to grab a hold of. Just for one god damn minute.

Sometimes I can barely breathe. For whatever it is out there, the bulleting vulnerability that it feeds. It is a reckoning, harsh place that forces you to bury your elbows into gravel as you are being dragged backwards into what becomes the futility of not throwing yourself through a welcomed clouded window pane.

And to be trapped between walls. May as well be trapped inside of them. At least then you could press your hands tightly into the supports so they may give you some, or ‘any’ type of founded lead. Instead you just yell at yourself. Distract. Watch that meter fill up and drain right out since all of the holes are still just sitting there. I guess it’s easier for some, maybe you don’t feel it. Maybe you are programmed to remind yourself that “this is how things are suppose to be”. I get it. I just don’t buy it. And I refuse to start now.

I honestly don’t blame anyone, or anything. I detest a shit ton of human behavior mostly. But we are all aware of that, and only sometimes people are willing to demand more from it. Don’t demand it, just lay there and have it all sewn up inside of you so that it becomes your norm, and your new ‘happy’ narrative – “hey I’m all fixed, right?”. Let it guide you on to finding whatever it is that devoured you before, because it knows “how” to feed you anyway. It sure the fuck does. Always.

And I’m here. And I sure as fuck do not like today. And I probably won’t like tomorrow. And I will feel everything ten times more than everyone else, since its how I’m wired. And some just don’t get it, or maybe they just don’t find the necessity of “getting it”. And that’s fine.

Just go fucking ahead and smile. And please, please, fucking mean it for once.

Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don’t kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, “He fought so hard.” And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong. Shoot the Damn Dog: A Memoir of Depression

You say you’re ‘depressed’ – all i see is resilience. You are allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn’t mean you’re defective – it just means you’re human. – Cloud Atlas

Strangle me with power cords.

Brutal last 10 or so days of shows. Don’t ever take for granted anyone that performs a shit ton, whatever it is they are doing. Your sleep is wrecked. Your eating is wrecked. Your energy levels are wrecked. Your pocket-book is wrecked. Your social life is wrecked. The having to be ready to play is constant upkeep, full-time maintenance and full time turning off your head. This is by far one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do and pulling this off at 46 is no fucking easy task. Fuck, eat, drink, shit, die & sleep.

“My only relief is to sleep. When I’m sleeping, I’m not sad, I’m not angry, I’m not lonely, I’m nothing.” -Jillian Medoff, Hunger Point.

It likes you because you feed it.

Note 1256
A lot of shows in a row makes me ache but I’d rather have that soreness than the other types. It’s easier when I don’t have to count the disasters but more so the ones avoided (I count them on my free hand now). I’m tired a lot, constantly. I carry a shit ton inside and I’ve decided to just shut the fuck up. I’m way too old for this kind of nonsense. I gave everything I had left, again.

Note 1258
I overheard a conversation at a show in south Texas almost a year ago, a musician stating how many times he had cheated on his girlfriend over four years. He said twenty-seven times. Three times while she was pregnant. He acted like it was some kind of trophy staple to playing music. Fucking ridiculous behavior. Considering how many times I’ve had to regurgitate people’s bullshit over and over, it really drastically alters my view on things. Even when you are one hundred and eighty percent to the point where you may as well skywrite devotion to someone, sometimes it still doesn’t matter. I will never understand that. And I fucking hate my hometown and all the garbage people who behave like that there, or anywhere.

Note 1259
Not much I can do about the residual webs anymore. Clear them out, pull them down. They still stick right to you. You roll over at 3am and reach for the empty spot where you once backed up against, just so that you could finally breathe. It is an empty that is so loud it’s like a piano on your face.

Note 1261
And it’s so easy now days. Social media allows you to rewrite your narrative to make it out to anything you could ever want it to be. In fact you can make faces just disappear with the click of a ‘delete post’ button. It’s like it never happened. You were really never ever there. Crowds just pass on by your feed like “huh oh, wow carry on”. No one sees the stitches underneath it all. It’s all too easy to wipe away. Must be amazing to pull that off, because oh how it makes one feel like total shit and less than zero all at the same time. Way to go, you deserve an ‘atta girl/boy’ ribbon for that fucking Houdini trick.

Note 1265
Momentum screams and that irony just bakes all around you. Anger is a such a plentiful tool isn’t it? How I know it so fucking well. It is a reeking hailstorm at times, and you just have to hold everything you have left over your head and just hope that when you lift your shoulders back up – everything that remains, the smoldering and battering of eyes and lies, YOU HOPE WITH GRITTING TEETH that it might not weigh as much as it did the day before.

Note 1255
Caring what people think is way over rated. I tell you with 46 years of experience in shoes and legs that I can’t even feel. The less you give a fuck about what people think, and the more about lending the focus of your heart and finding its place – that’s where you need to be. It’s raw and pure and you carry it like stones on your chest.

Find it. Throw it. Yell it across empty stares until it’s like dragging a screen door across someones face. Do it enough times, and  maybe a reason will tap you on the back and say “hey I get it, it’s ok”.

It’s ok. And unlikely. Trust me, I get it.

 

Exorcism Fanatica

Ghosting is a shit way to deal with ending relationships. I have first hand been on both sides of them as to why this issue makes me want to pound glass into my knees every time I have to deal with it. In addition to it being emotionally abusive, malignant and shallow – It’s THE weak fucking way to back out of something that maybe didn’t go your way, or maybe was more than you could handle at the time. Either way it’s wrong, and here are MY fucking opinionated reasons why.

That Trust
What you just did was throw out a huge majority of tangible trust that the person will ever hand you again. Because who knows what life is going to throw at you or them next, you have already wrote down that if things get “unmanageable” – your behavior may prove unreliable and could possibly lead to disappearing again without fucking warning.

That Shattering
This behavior is directly abusive, especially to people who are very empathetic. The leaving without a word being said is emotionally damaging similar to people dealing with death. The immediate absence with no resolution is selfish and cowardly and shows that you had no business being in a relationship in the first god damned place.

That Reasoning
Everyone deserves an explanation (excluding physical abuse obviously). When you agree to be in a relationship with someone you most definitely are responsible for your reasons to end (and ending) of said relationship. Just because the city is not your shade of red doesn’t mean you can wipe it all clean when you still have the paint brush in your hand. BOTH parties owe each other ONE direct chance to explain themselves.

That Going On
The other person has a fucking life. And they have no reason to spend weeks or months waiting to see “why you left”, or “why you fucked a co-worker”. People need the resolution to move on with things, and your ghosting can send them into an ‘infinite loop’ of trying to figure out and resolve what they did wrong. The sooner you tell them, the sooner the healing starts. Just because you DON’T HURT and moved on quickly doesn’t mean the other party is immune. They are entitled to that resolution, YOU OWE THEM THAT.

That Respect
If you can sit for weeks after ghosting a long-term relationship without any resolution then you obviously never respected the person long enough to even commit to them. This is abhorrent behavior when there are still inbound feelings. I can’t even describe the amount of damage this does. There is no guarantee in love ever, but as one side fails the other side falls. This lack of integrity reflects upon your character, and other people in future relationships will see that.

That It’s Fucking Over
You could just say that. It may sound harsh but I would rather of heard that 100% of the time, every time. At least then you know. And although blunt hurts, blunt is definite. And sometimes you need to hear that. Put on your fucking adult pants and handle your shit. Life goes on, people get over shit. The fact that you remain to ‘be weak’ and trail it on into some fucking nightmare ‘go between’ is ridiculous. Own your actions so that you BOTH can move on.

And fuck shit. I hate this post. It’s one I’ve written and deleted twice. But I guess coming back to writing it again shows the validity in that I need to leave this here. This type of treatment just really vividly pisses me the fuck off.

 

He kisses her. She wants to believe him, so she says nothing.

Note 1013
Just disappear off the horizon, don’t even finish a sentence. Let all the pieces fall where they may. Shrug your shoulders and walk off like nothing was ever there. That’s how people handle entanglements in this time. Run as far and as fast as you can, it makes no difference. Thanks.

Note 1048
I’ve hated May and June for the last 11 years. Like a plate full of needles that you have to swallow. Thinking “well if things all land in the right place” it will be fine. But odds are that will not happen. Just digest. And the metal will taste like blood. And it will paint your face even if you are quiet as fuck. Charge on. I leave marks over my shoulder for every time I have to walk by something I don’t care to even touch. Throw it all the fuck away. It’s everyone’s answer anyway.

Note 1037
I’ll hashtag #wastedtime or some other fucking witty crap to throw into a sparkling bucket of social garbage. Like it matters anyway as people are fueled by “likes and thumbs” so much they believe it’s going to ignite themselves in a way that makes them sleep again. Good luck with that.

 

“I’m not a poet. I’ve never moved anyone with my words. Maybe that’s why they chose me.” – Solaris

 

Heavy rain with a chance of fail.

I could rattle on about anger but I’m not. I could stumble through some epiphany of “what does anything mean anymore” regarding the deafening roar of the present but I’m not. I could say that “hey oh I’m not sad at all”, but I won’t. Because it’s mostly untrue. I could braid any of the previous into some kind of frail “self-help bullshit” story like I have in the past but I will try not to. Because I’m really not compelled to do any of that. As of now.

So exactly what? I guess I would say that I am mostly numb. Outlined in shades of abandonment. Definitely let down.  Slightly shocked, but then again not really. Do I care? Absolutely. Do I contain the energy to feel like I need to add resolution to anything? Of course not. Did I behave and adhere to things that are solely my own? I feel I did. I don’t claim a perfection of  behavior by any means but I do have a predictable “relationship regiment” that I am likely to follow. Mostly simple things. I don’t lie. I have not been unfaithful in 22 yrs to anyone that I have been romantically involved with. I don’t rally in manipulation nor do I subplot mind games to outwit the obstacles of love. I trust easy. I trust the honesty that I receive, and I value that brutal honesty highly.

Nothing is perfect. We are not wired that way. We are littered in flaws. It’s ok, I understand human consciousness becomes oblivious at times. Like tunnel vision, the blurring of sidelines, choices become less apparent all the time…we fall, we fail – I get it – over and over. But still, ultimately when you step back (and you should do that quite often), you always have to be ready to own your damn life decisions. The good and the bad. You know people can preach about “tough love” and whatnot.. Yes. It’s not rocket science. Life owes you nothing. Ever. There is no fine print in the book of the world that says “if you do this, you will get that”. That just does not exist. In every sense of this phrase Always be mindful of your fucking actions, they will paint your story across your face. They will turn the pretty in you, into the ugly that other people see. And that to me, is the most disheartening residual fallout in relationships. I never give up on people easy. I rarely throw in the towel until I absolutely have to. I am always the first person that’s there to pick you up, holding the pieces against my side saying “this is fixable, just give it the time – it’s ok”.

It’s the cancer of half-truths that are sewn into what you want to read as ‘your narrative’. I don’t fully understand how people begin to wear that. They would rather re write their story (ex.” ghosting”) and make it something else so that they can stand outside of the reality of their own choices. It’s easy math I understand, in our brittle lifespan no one wants to feel discord about anything they do – but sometimes you need to step back and say “hey I fucked up, I made a mistake – and I am truly sorry”.

In 46 years of living, I can emphatically say that I can count on less fingers of one hand – the number of people who are capable of even making a sincere statement such as that. And that is why I am numb today. And probably tomorrow. And I’m sure for the next good while. I am tired of making excuses for that behavior. I grow fucking weary of all the nights wrestling with “why is it a fucking chore for someone to believe that this isn’t  appropriate – I know inside it’s not, so why would I attempt to convince myself that it is?”. Breathe decently. It defines you. Your heart does count for something. If you are not happy where you are, then change it. People will get the fuck over it. But understand that there are finite ramifications in everything you do. Even when you run away from something, it’s still fucking waiting there at 3am. Sometimes you really have to destroy everything in your comfort zone to find your peace, and it’s ok – we are human. But also in doing that, you must say “I know what I did. I see how it hurt, I see who it hurt and next time, maybe in the next venture it will be different. I will be different. I will know then that I am still trying to find my way.”

It tires me. I can’t fix what was broke before I was even there. No one can. That is fucking on you. Why I thought I could change something, was asinine. It was my fail, so it’s my fall. And I will miss pieces of it every single day. You will never see what was right, until you admit to yourself what was wrong. And I guess it takes people a life time of bullshit thrown at them to find that.

So find it.

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald