C'est n'est pas une blog

...fini

Another beautiful day, the sun out, sitting on the back patio listing to some Style Council and drinking an iced tea.  Alas, my run here has ended.  It's time to say goodbye, and wish you a pleasant life without this darkness.

               - 30 -

anywhere, nowhere, and existence...

I was thinking about how to begin this post.  I was hoping for some elegant twist of a phrase to come into my mind.  After 30 minutes or so, I came to the conclusion that nothing summed it up better than a simple direct phrase.

This week is fucked.

Maybe I was channeling Hemingway.  When I look at it, it seems like the way he would have written it.  Well, the way he would have written it if they used "fucked" in books back then (other than Henry Miller, of course)  Maybe it was Miller who was guiding me?  At least the would be a little more interesting.  I've always liked Miller's work, and you certainly can't accuse him of being boring.

My thoughts keep drifting back to my favorite fantasy.  One day, I'd want to pack up one bag, walk out the door and out of my life.  I vacillate around this one.  The urge gets stronger or weaker depending on what, if anything, is pulling me to stay here.  This has been one of those weeks where it feel like there is no reason to stay - no one really needs me, and they might actually be better off if I were gone.

I feel nothing more than adrift lately.  My efforts in my current life feel rather pointless - no matter what I do nothing moves forward.  If anything, it feels as though it's going backwards.  I may soon end up back where I started a year ago.  Maybe my arc is just reaching its endpoint.  Who knows?

Which must be why I have returned to my dream of leaving.  If my arc is ending, it's as good a time as any to vanish - no sense in waiting to see if there is actually a point lower than the baseline I started at.  That wouldn't be very pretty...and probably would be dull as well. 

My biggest impediment now is cash.  My assets are still locked up. [It's a long, pointless, and dull story, believe me]  I may have to give up more than I had planned to resolve it, but if it gives me enough to get me out of this it will be worth it.   

I was told last night to be very careful in my efforts.  I was also cautioned to be careful not to lose myself in the process.  It struck me as odd, for a couple of reasons.  First, it came from a person who was in a similar situation, but on the other side.  It was strange to have a third party look at the situation and think that I was actually the good guy, and even more so given that they occupied the opposition side of the equation in their own life.  I don't really see myself that way.  I think I'm a little more bitchy and demanding than that.

Second, as I had moved deeper and deeper into this space, it had never occurred to me that I could be harmed...I usually think either nothing will ever damage me in a lasting way, or that it's unimportant if something were to happen to me.  In the grand scheme of things I'm just not that important.  I don't know if any of us are, but I doubt it.  If any of us were to vanish one day, would anyone really be that impacted by it?

I don't think the world would be that much different if I was gone.  Maybe that belief is the source of my fantasy.  After all, what would be a better test of my theory than to simply disappear one day?  And in the midst of all this, the idea of leaving it all behind appeals to me.  Granted, it's not elegant, but it is certainly a simple solution.  I've started all over again several times, but never with that clean of a break...and I'm so tired of everything now, that is seems to be the time.

I'm your huckleberry.

another weekend? great....

I'm pretty sure it's Friday night...well, maybe not sure, but I have a hunch it is.  That's what happens when you spend too long indoors, skip those visits to the office, and begin to invert your clock.  After that it's only a matter of time before you start forgetting what day it is, and the whether it's day or night.

I had a dream last night, it was about nothing...(bonus points for that one)

I spent most of the day working at home - trying to finish a project that I should have done weeks ago.  Actually, months ago.  So it goes.  I don't even care at this point, I just want to have it off of my hands and fire the client.  I can't deal with these people anymore.   They sit there across the desk from me talking, and after a few seconds they start to sound like the adults in an old Peanuts movie.  All I can do is sit there and (knowing that I can't focus on what they're saying) hope that they don't ask me any questions.

So I didn't go in the office again today.  I sat in the house from noon to 10 p.m. working (or staring at the rain) and occasionally going out on the patio for a smoke.  I got a couple of calls from people inviting me out for drinks, but begged off.  I could tell that it was going to be a bad night.  It's a little odd for people to call and invite me out, and I think they might have sensed that I was going to be in foul humor as well - it's something my friends seem to enjoy seeing, at least if they aren't the target of it.  (see my post from sometime around last Christmas for an example of that)

Finally, at 10, I realized I would need to go to the store - it didn't look like I would quit smoking today, and I didn't have enough to make it through the night.  This meant that I would have to take a shower and get dressed.  I did decide I could skip the shave (having made it to night without one) but a shower would be necessary due to the severe case of bedhead I used during the day to scare the neighbors.

All of that for a 10 minute trip to the gas station.  I picked up a couple of iced coffees as well, just because it seemed like a waste to leave the house for so little.  Plus, the thought occurred to me that they might make a good chaser if I was going to finish off that bottle of Stoli later.   A quick jaunt back to the house, and I was set for the night...

I needed a little break from work, so here I am.  After writing about my method of writing the other day, I was reading a couple of articles on wikipedia about automatic writing and writer's block, when I stumbled upon this - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypergraphia

I guess there is a madness to my method....

Here's a little music to listen to while I start to hit the black keys:

Paul Westerberg - Gun Shy.  Off the Folker album (which I get more entranced with every time I hear it) comes a really odd line - "Got my sun-block and hard rock, I need to relax, From a dormitory, A former whore's peeing on Ajax, We're chasin' middle age, and we're pacin' in our cage tonight, Still a little gun shy."  This was a perfect accompaniment to the ride home from the store.  As far as I know Westerberg is still out of commission do to the screwdriver and candle incident, although there has been no official comment that I've been able to find.  I know a lot of people have been mocking him because of it, but all I could think of when I read about it was how had I avoided doing that to myself?  The night is still young, though.

Beck - Nausea.  This whole song rings gold to me.  I'll just give you the first verse as a warm up, it captures my recent feeling of being adrift in the sea of my mind. "Now I'm a seasick sailor, on a ship of noise, I got my maps all backwards, and my instincts poisoned, in a truth blown gutter, full of wasted years, like blown-out speakers, ringin' in my ears."  Or something like that.

The Replacements - Unsatisfied.  "Everything you dream of, is right in front of you, and liberty is a lie."

.......

"I hold a beast, an angel and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, downthrow and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression."

-- Dylan Thomas

remembering dreams...

I've been having this dream, bits of it.  I'm living in a house, with her.  I can't tell you much about the house...I remember it has large walls painted a flat white.  The house is always warm, although I think that may be more due to her rather than the house.  There's a large smooth stone fireplace in the living room, set into the white wall.  Some nights we're on the floor in front of the fireplace, talking, laughing, working on a crossword, brushing up against each other. Other nights, we're curled up together on a chaise, a green chaise, with a white blanket over us. Different things, but the feeling is always the same there - warmth, a soft touch, an overpowering feeling of love.  Sometimes the kids are there, sometimes they aren't, much like real life.  In my dream, though, she is always there.   

I couldn't tell you what the outside of the house looks like.  I do remember looking out the window, laying on the bed, starring up through the trees at a deep blue sky. 

...

I wake up in the morning when the alarm goes off.  As always, I hit the snooze alarm, and roll back over, my head buried beneath the sheets, my head on her pillow. She not there, but I still smell her on the sheets and her pillow.  I lay there for a minute and wonder, wonder if this dream can become real.  I don't know, so I push myself further under the blanket, submerge myself in her scent, and try to go back to the dream.