Reality: bites. (from Nabisco)
2003-06-18 - 1:53 a.m.
...and so commended my most recent vacation to reality. really, it's been a constant thing since moving out here. but when Archibald (who doubles, in his capacity, as my travel agent) asked me if i wanted a one-way or round trip, i just couldn�t bring myself to get a one way. so many things in my unreality that i�d miss, and not quite sure what would happen to me if stranded in reality for too long. nearly missed the bus to get back *here*, and turned right back around to get another trips to reality after sending e-mails to figure out some more things, straighten some more things out�
June14. ATM card from KeyBank has been revoked. this probably has something to do with the check i wrote to myself last week for 160$ for the lockpicking shoppe didn�t go through, though i had called and was told 164$ existed in the account earlier that day. so when i tried to buy food today, found out that my KeyBank card doesn�t work, and unfortunately the branch that revoked it won�t be open until monday. bought a bottle of coke with my remaining pocket change, with the confidence that caffeine reduces appetite, and hopefully the 20$ i borrowed from mitch will last until thursday after next, when i get paid. the resulting side effect is that i feel as if i�ve lost all the freedom that i gained by making this trip.
flame-resistant gloves (stolen two years ago in preparation): 0$
iron oxide scrapped off my 1984 BMW: 0$
aluminum filings/dust from the construction on campus: 0$
supersized bottle household bleach at WalMart: 10$
one large bottle salt substitute (potassium chloride): $8.75
plastic baggiges, clothes hangers, bowls and scales from Mitch�s kitchen: 0$
resorting to demolition to get back at a bank that revoked your account because they couldn�t figure out to do with a double-half-covered check: priceless.
June15. hiking with people on Crane Mountain, part of the Appellation Trail, which Mitch and Mike have been trying to do, one mountain at a time. overall fun was had, but the trail itself could�ve been a little bit�more. Mitch and Mike and i have decided to take up kayaking and rock climbing, and dropping anchor and sleeping *on* one of the great lakes, and rockclimbing, or maybe a combination of all these things.
Revelation: i have discovered, after several stages of argument, that what they says is true: love in first sight does in-deed exist, albeit it was hard to logically separate love from animalistic attraction (things can be loved witch are not attractive in that sense, such as puppies). about the same time it was decided that this statement is true, it was also proven, rather simultaneously, that love is blind. thus, the only love that can be marketed in the microwave-food-instant isle would be in dreams, and then only then if it can be proven that blind people can see in their dreams.
June17, early. one tear out of the right eye, rolls down my neck, burning. a great umph of effort is expended in making sure that it doesn�t touch the leather seats, don�t want them Dirty with my stupid little issues[/feelings]. KeyBank told me today that they won�t be able to unrevoke my account until friday. somehow, between now and then, i need money for gas, for to get to work. something about the second check about to bounce as well, because i had forgotten to figure in the amount that i�d have to pay due to bouncing the first, and at some point realize that now i have two checks bouncing between the Methodist�s Credit Union (while on the phone with them i casually blasphemed today, and it did not make matters better) and the KeyBank, once a week each, while my credit gains speed in a downward direction. if only i could dribble a basketball this well.
Unfinished Note: businessmen are good at playing cards, because it�s all about liabilities and assets. Any aces in your hands are assets, but it�s a liability if you think another player has them�
June17, later. i love my car. Jade could just sit there, and not run at all, and she�d still be the best thing in my life. parked her out front for a couple hours, one of the friggin� neighbours smashed into the rear bumper. some plastic came undone, but the damage was easily repairable, or i would�ve taken Mitch�s advice and called the cops before anything else. keep trying to convince myself that the street is not a kindergarten, it�s not like my baby got into a fight and lost�just a little insulted, is all, and i can�t be jumpin� in and being all whinny for her every time she gets a scuff on her knee. the neighbour, who is a cop, swore that his buddy�s car didn�t do it, though it was very clear what happened, even added some guilt by saying it was his elderly mother�s car, and suggested a short while after that it was someone else, and he had seen it�one of those white cars belonging to the chinks that live downstairs. �sides, she left her mark, tore one hell of a scratch into the license plate of the other car. just a warning shot.
Dream. a very drunk version of Mum, looking not much older than she is now, and her time had come. it was all planned the night before, hastily and in a whir of highly-caffeinated breakfast drinks, the three Fates decided it was her time to go. in these days, in this theoretical universe, she got drunk much more often, at least once a week�but this time, i could feel it was different�this was the time that she drove badly on purpose, and succeeded in killing herself. gawd knows how unsuccessful she was with razor blades and overdosing. explained to Mitch that i needed to go, to tell her that i had this bad feeling, and had to prevent it. tried to tell her not to go driving, had the basic �no-you-can�t-yes i-can� conversation that i think usually happens in these situations, and at some point she sat on the hood of the car (blue, though she doesn�t own a blue one now) which was oriented between the shed and the house, facing away from the road. a Mac truck passed the driveway in utter silence, heading from the intersection to the direction of Dexter and i thought �that must�ve been it�. she pulled up her shirt, exposing a series of loose stitches, the kind a person typically sees after an autopsy, right down to the type of thread used, though it could have been from some sort of recent medical surgery, in which the doctor thought it best to do a piece-of-shit-job sewing her back up because they anticipated opening her up again in a couple days. she leaned back against the hood and spasmed, forcibly opening her own stitches. with one hand holding her stomach so that her intestines don�t fly out (because intestines, once they come out, form a near-impossible jigsaw puzzle for anyone who is trying to put the person back together again), and the other behind her head, pressing her cheek to mine, i listened to the stitches as they popped out, one by one. she never screamed, never seemed in agony, and somehow this gave me the idea that she wanted to show me something, that there was something buried deep inside of her that she wanted to share with me. Mitch was standing behind me and a little bit to my right, and his presence in this situation was annoying. wanted to beat Mitch�s skull in for being there and watching it, and not because i was humiliated to have my mother die in this fashion, but more the opposite�because it was my experience, a message just for me. it wasn�t something that fit into his life, or anything he could never truly understand. something about �we�re friends, not brothers, and friends should not, can not, share every little detail of life.� a lesion formed in the superficial layers of her anterior body, and all her layers of fascia curled away from it, one at a time. i remember crying on her then, telling her that i loved her, even though she knew that she was loved, i thought it important to say it. felt it important to, to remind her of everyone that loved her and couldn�t be there at that moment, a great long list of all the people that she had ever made smile. or maybe it just mattered to me, maybe it was something i needed to say before she left entirely, but it seemed necessary either way. she didn�t smile, showed no sign of being able to hear the things i said. She just froze her mouth into the odd type of �o� mouth that so many unsure-about death people die with. end dream, 3am. this is either what i get for going to bed early, or not eating right, or not taking my contacts out, or being a mortician, but gawd�just thinking about it freaks me out a bit, and puffs up the eyes, and makes me proud to be her son�and it makes me wish that there was another way, for a person to share *that* level of their essence/understanding with you without opening themselves up to you.
June17, between early and later. Father is pist at me because i didn't listen to him when he told me take out a loan, and instead am asking him now for money that he doesn't have. at the time, i didn't want a loan, because i knew that it might be a while until i got a job...most of the time though, i assume that he doesn't know what i'm going through. he's lived this part of this life, verbatum, but he was 17 and now i'm twenty. not that the things he wants me to do are necessarily Right (a loan might've killed me too), he's just trying to help me avoid falling into the same traps...the traps that i'm falling into anyways.
Confession: when i was a little kid, i was known to proclaim quite seriously "daddy, i remember when you were my age, i remember what you were like"...understanding is a two way street, but one of those ways is uphill.
Background: read a text file between today and yesterday that spelled some old things out for me, did a great deal to help Archibald fix the hole in my head. for a few brief moments, it all made sense...and there were thoughts about people who damage themselves and bottle things up inside and make sacrifices for the sake of maintaining a dynamic. at the end of the sitcom, everyone works together to create some estranged reason why the next episode will continue to have characters, which seem to not have changed in any way, even in their relationships to one another. the result is a buildup of history...so one day someone can lean back and think �yea, we gots history� (season finale). but this theory, like all the rest, went to shyte by the time I finished reading the file. humans change.
Revelations: i try much to hard to exist in reality. It shouldn�t be this hard.
Revelation: sometimes, things, even good things, need to be bottled up...it's not that �if you love all you love none�, but �if you love all, everyone will feel weird around you, because they think you are weird�.
Revelation: i must have done something very bad in this lifetime, to deserve what i�ve read tonight. or fifty million seperate assholeish things.
Related Sidenote: guilt, in large quantities, erases memory.
Revelation: upon reflection, i have realized that i am one scary motherfucker.
Revelation: i have no sense of responsibility, no remorse, never been in a serious...anything, in which i responded to it by acting seriously. this makes it very hard to relate to humans. or possibly, i don�t want to relate to humans, and thus the problem is actually the cause, and vice versa.
Confession: chased Sarah around with a utility knife at a very young age, thinking that when i stabbed her with it, i could retract the blade at the same time.
Confession: stood by while laura took several beatings for things that were my fault, my messes...
Confession: in my more lucid dreams, i beat the shit out of people, people i know and not just people I don�t like, before i die.
Revelation: i easily know one-thousand people in my age group well enough to know that they are less psychotic than i am. one percent of people in the us are diagnosed as schizophrenic. not that i would fit into this particular diagnosis, but i'm just saying i'm that far up on the ladder of instability, and most likely standing on the second-highest rung (not completely-completely unstable), which [incidently] reads: "this is not a step".
Revelation: when i concentrate on it enough, i remember feeling all *this*, for several brief moments, over a short period of time, before thoughts tangentified so much that i forgot what i was originally thinking about it. a very slow process, but something like this. gawd i'm an asshole...(first tangent)...assshole, in general, definition of?...(second tangent)...(third tangent)...(fourth tangent)...but now, i've gotten off topic, where was i? gawd, i'm an asshole...(loop while sleep <= 100%)
Confession: Mitch has been right, about a great deal more things than I will ever be able to remember.
Revelation: the villains of sitcoms, as a rule, are never overly detailed, we never see what they think on a daily basis, for such would allow us to empathize them, and the reader would loose their sense of the value (which the other sitcoms put so much effort into instilling in the reader). hero or villain, i am definitely ill-detailed.
Revelation: I Am Twenty Years Old.
Revelation: lucy, i have decided, does not exist. i have also decided that i am okay with this, and should not allow this fact to have any influence on our relationship because i know and converse with many people that don't exist, and she is by no means lesser than they.
Revelation: [as if one more invisible friend is makes matters any better...but maybe one for invisible friend is all I'll need to turn around a little...like a loan you use to start up a business, illusionary money can produce real money, if invested properly.]
Sidenote: for all those people out there that have no experience with invisible people[/voices], i will attempt to clear up any confusion now. invisible people[/headvoices] are very similar to real people. they go to work or school just like real people, and visit you periodically but not certainly, more often at specific parts of the day. they can be mean and manipulative, they can whisper behind your back, and sometimes, they just need a hug. worst of all, if you don�t do what they say (or pretend they don�t exist), they may just figure they don�t like you anymore, and stop talking to you altogether. this would be a fine result for any normal person, but for a person who only has invisible friends, it�s agony.
Revelation: i have decided to reclaim my virginity. it was a twelve-hour time span way back when, and i have since forgotten most of it [not to mention that i've completely lost my knowledge of how one rides a bike].
Revelation: i have a purpose for being where i am, and it's not just to get away from my parents. i moved here because i needed to learn some things, because i needed to change, because i wanted to spend some time with Mitch before he might have gone blind, because these are the things that are important to me.
Revelation: there is a mouse in Mitch�s kitchen ceiling. discovered this as i sat at the table for a few hours, my face as blank as mum's, starring into the window that would have held my reflection, but was open (and for this not-reflection-ness, i was glad).
June16. tonight, came back into non-reality for a bit...but woke up this morning and decided to continue my vacation a little longer...i seem to be seeing thigs much clearer this way...realized that my unreality is completely different from Lucy's...because her's is digital, and mine is mirrors...used to think that mirrors were revealing, that because they bounced light around, things could be discovered from the refractions. I see now that a mirror just blocks your view of the thing that is most right-in-front-of-your-face.
Revelation: sometimes i get a fleeting moment of �everything would just be fine, if i went back to mt ida�. i�d know people, have a job, wouldn�t have to deal with banks. but the year after, things would be even more complicated than they are now, i�d have even less of an idea of what i want to do with my life. going back to Maine would also not solve anything.
Ultimate 2do list, part I: keep a resume that grows with you, add to it as you do things you are proud of.
do not piss off fun people, assume that everyone can be fun
when in doubt, write it down.
create a list of people that share a common aspect. start simple, such as �good friends�, and get more complicated. �play musical instruments�, �i know their middle names�, �use the word -plik-�, �happy�, �real�. (credit to Archibald for that one)
integrate everything you see with a medium you are skilled at, this will help you Learn about the essence of things, and thus Know more about the world around you.
sat in Mitch's room and listened to his guitar. tried to make songs. i think this year's gonna turn out to be alrght, after all.
