C'est n'est pas une blog

crown royal?

Another one of those days, where you just wonder what the point of it all is.  Still can't find anyone to drink with.  I've resorted to Crown Royal...how did that happen, I hear you ask... well, when I gave the back and forth over the liquor cabinet, it was the only bottle left that looked like it would have enough to last me without having to switch drinks.  Now, thirty minutes down the road, it seems as though I had underestimated my ability to drink.  I had half a bottle, but it's coasting on the edge now. 

At least at some point will come sleep, either for the rest of the day or until the next ride.  I just hate to switch drinks mid-stream, it usually leads to vomiting, which is just a waste.  And there are depressed people in Africa with nothing to drink.  So make every shot count...

Crown Royal...never really drank it before.  It always seemed a little pretentious, Now, at 500 ml it seems nothing if not small.  But aren't we all small?  I've been asleep since Sunday.  At this point it is pretty much impossible to sleep any more.  Luckily, there is a bottle of XO Cognac I have been saving for a special occasion, and although this isn't very special, it is an occasion. 

what?

I'm on the edge of something, I just don't know what it is...

last...

tonight
slapped in the face
i realized
i was the last thing on you list
to care about
and i wondered
did i realize it earlier or later than the
others?

insignificance...

Insignificance.  I should have remembered that.  For some reason I had forgotten that, forgotten that I was insignificant.  That's a mistake, one that always causes trouble.

You start to think you are significant.  Then you start to think that other people care about you - a notion I thought I had disabused myself of a long time ago.  I got along for years knowing that people didn't really care about me.  I got used to it in my childhood, and with the exception of a few detours over the years I stuck to it.  It served me well. 

Then I decided to care again - and to fool myself into thinking other people cared.  God, I'm a fucking idiot.  Now I'm stuck here, spending the last few weeks gulping down whatever painkiller or sedatives I can find to make me not depressed.  Not enough to make me "happy" (I don't know what could accomplish that), but at least not killing myself. 

Although I'd be lying to myself I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind.  Sounds like it's time for another Vicodan.  And a large glass of port.

I wish it was Sunday night. That would be a much better night for this realization.  Instead it's Friday night, which means I'll another two days pretending.  Pretending like I'm happy, pretending like I'm human.  At least the sedatives help,  although they make it hard to write.  It's easier to write from the extremes, happy or sad.   Tonight, sedated, I just feel  like a hunk of lead.  I feel like nothing, but a heavy nothing.  Nada, zip, zilch, zero.

At this point, with nothing of value left to give, is there anyone who wouldn't rather see me dead?  I hear the crickets chirp my answer - no one.

I'm melting.

just another day/night/whatever...

Not really sure where this post is going to go.  Sometimes that's the best way.

Anyway...you know how sometimes a small event can trigger a larger reflection?  Maybe that's not the right way to put it. 

Anyway...so, the simple start.  The car breaks down.  I call a few friends.  Four or five if I recall correctly. (fn. 1 I'll admit, I had a couple of pints before the incident)  Not one of them offered to help.  I walked the few miles home, and it really didn't strike me until later.  I had helped each of them time and time again, without even being asked. 

And then you start to wonder...are they really friends?  I don't have many to begin with, so it's a bit harder for me to get rid of them.

Fuck it, I'm already bored with this story...

another day #9

trying on a new mask
and old mask
thought I had discarded
but i found it there
just behind the bed
filled with dreams
i couldn't sleep
not the dreams are gone
and that's all i do

one step forward, two steps back...

Yes, I guess I'm officially back.  Drinks all around, and smoke 'em if you got 'em.  I was going to have an orange for breakfast, but then I saw the Oranjeboom sitting next to it and thought that might hit the spot better.  What I've been trying hasn't worked, so I might as well go back to what was.

That brings me to the first song for the day.

The Replacements - Beer for Breakfast.   And lunch and dinner while we're at it.  "Honey, well I'm broke, But I'm gonna pay from some rum."  Not really much to the song but a couple of cords and a philosophy.  Still, it's nice, catchy, and manages to include the line "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas."  Why not?

I'll pause for a moment here to finish off the Oranjeboom (reminds me of Amsterdam) and reframe my frame of reference.

...

That one's down and kicking in.   Wondering whether it's too early for tequila, I realize that it isn't in Amsterdam.   I'll just imagine I'm there today, and presto/chango it's all okay.  Tequila it is then.  Luckily there are plenty of lemons around the house, and ice to boot.

Next up is my current high rotation band - The Hold Steady. 

The Hold Steady - Hot Soft Light.   What can I say?  I love this band, and if you haven't heard them yet, do so.  You can even get a sample for free at their website, www.theholdsteady.com.  My favorite album of the moment is "The Hold Steady Almost Killed Me", but today's selection comes from their more recent "Boys and Girls in America."  Their sound invokes Thin Lizzy, Bruce Springsteen, et al.  I'll admit, however, that I can't stand "The Boss."  What sets The Hold Steady apart is the lyrics.  For example:

"it started recreational.
it ended kinda medical.
it came on hot and soft and then
it tightened up its tentacles.
the band played screaming for vengance
and we agreed. this world is mostly manacled.
it started ice cream social nice.
it ended up all white and ecumenical."

You know from my previous incomprehensible ramblings that I'm a sucker for a clever rhyme.  Besides, aren't we all manacled to our inevitable urge to return to the familiar upon a failure?  It's always easier to drift back than push forward, or at least it feels that way.

Time for another beer and shot, I think I'm approaching it.

...

Pass the dust, I think I'm Bowie...yes, on to the next selection.

Black Randy and the Metro Squad - I Slept in an Arcade.  It's hard to describe Black Randy and the Metro Squad, and you'll probably never hear them.  Although I usually try not to talk about music that is unavailable, it's hard to resist this "band."  Sample  lyric:

"I wore fine clothes ad drank mixed drinks
I watched the pope fight Leon Spinks
Joe's old nip mama was my maid
Flat Face poured amyl like lemonade."

The album (Pass the Dust, I think I'm Bowie, Dangerhouse Records, 1979) contains such classics as Barefootin' on the Wicked Picket, Down at the Laundrymat, and Marlon Brando) will likely never be released on CD, so your only chance will be to meet someone who still has an old copy on vinyl.  And I doubt that will happen, so you should probably just forget this mention.

deep black sleep...

searching for
deep black sleep
sleep
black
deep
tomorrow
you always wake up and it's tomorrow
and that's not nearly far enough in the future

white candle...

a stone hearth
a tall white candle burning there for days
the focus of my dreams
trying to make dreams come true
i forgot i don't dream very well
if at all
anyway
you have to sleep to make a start of it
dead tired
but unable to sleep
unable to sleep
to sleep
wanting to be hung on these so cal cactus
stigmata all over
crucified on my thoughts
dancing alone with tequila sunset
its much too early
but i need black sleep
and a vacuum of no dreams
struggling on this blistering day
to achieve bliss and sleep
or sleep and tomorrow
tomorrow
a different day
wake up dehydrated and deadened
as a doornail
ready to be pounded and beaten
unfeeling, cold, refined
so fine not to feel
and the clock said four, four, four
digital or not
i can't fathom why it speaks to me
drowning, unenlightened
without much to give i should be
ignored
hung to dry on this poorly constructed line
with a brief moment of clarity
that i want desperately to leave behind
crawling back to dreams
better left behind
and I'm done with this entry now...

just another freak...

he sat there
sipping his coffee
speaking in a rough approximation of Oscar Wilde
(not nearly as witty, although he seemed to think so)
and dressed like a Kentucky colonel
the juxtaposition was jarring
i spent months listening
trying to fathom his point
the condition
sitting in the hot sun one day
at a steaming black table
i understood
just another freak