The Ten Before I Got To Twenty-Six

16.
When I used to drive home late at night I couldn’t tell how high the mountains that surrounded me were. Often I would notice lights way high above me floating there on top of the invisible mountains. I imagined that this is where some signal was being sent to me to notify me of the codes I needed for, well forget that.

15.
The first time I showed up there I noticed the smell. This dank, dark basement smelled of mildew and piss. I always hated going over there after that. We did the same thing over and over, talked sports, played pool, drank, smoked cigarettes and basically hated life. Fast forward to tonight, last night, the night before, the night before, the night before, the weekend before, etc. Scores of people who hate their lives or hate reality. Stuck in a routine for all eternity, stuck having a mirror that has room for two faces. Stuck fucking the same pussy forever. Stuck listening to some annoying voice every day forever. All this time later doing the same exact thing. I can’t get myself caught up into that. Life is awesome and intense. Even when I complain about it, it’s not because something isn’t happening. I want shit to happen all the time, good things and bad things. They all get into this routine, this long straight line and enjoy sitting on it. As long as escape vehicles are available to them at a low low price, they are willing to take that fate. I need to distance myself from all of these escape vehicles. I can feel myself getting into them, enjoying them. I know deep down I don’t enjoy them. Who enjoys having no control and spitting out complaints of headaches all morning the next day? Weaklings, that’s who.

14.
The last time I came, I guess because I had done it so many times already it looked like I was just balancing a Mento on the head of my cock.

13.
Watch these guys working the place, missing with jokes all the time, but people feed them and laugh anyway. Boosting egos and cocks for no other reason but one. Attention. I think I know a thing or two about this.

12.
There is no common ground with most of them ever is there? I feel like I can tailor my ideas and opinions only a tiny bit. I can pretend and play ignorant just to avoid any kind of disarray and feeling of things going down for long periods of time. When I dig myself into places I don’t have any business being though. Bizarre anonymous messages sent to strangers halfway across the universe with no intention other than to just make it a tiny bit harder for other strangers; how intense is this? I can manipulate people and situations I have absolutely nothing to do with because of the internet.

11.
Men wearing wacky hats, how awesome is this? Y/N

10.
For a long time I enjoyed listening to strangers tell me their stories. Telling them mine. I have grown weary of the stranger nowadays though. The friend is usually more of a better ear to bend. It doesn’t really matter what you tell them, either of them, but it’s much easier with the ones you know. It used to be the opposite for me. On the train for hours and hours and you have to hear this person’s story of triumph over tragedy and you get to either make one up, embellish yours, or not say a thing. The not say a thing method, that’s who you are accused of being a social misfit or some sort of weirdo. “Social anxiety is a myth” is what they must say and feel. It isn’t though. I feel sick to my stomach thinking I have to go through with something like walking into a room of people. I also get sick to my stomach just thinking about stuff.

9.
“Don’t Break the Silence” how awesome is this little piece of advice?

8.
One day I was thinking of trying to write down literally every single thought that comes into my head, like as it happens. Maybe take a four hour period of time and do this? I imagine I would have to do this numerous times to see any kind of interesting results. I would of course be self conscious of it and it would be tainted. Hmm, how do I do this?

7.
I'm told by someone what to do every day. Someone tells me what I'm supposed to feel like every day. Someone makes me say "yes" to every favor asked of me. Someone dictates my every move from day to day. Wait, this is a lie, this is the opposite of what happens every day. Where is my guide? Don't we all have some sort of spiritual guide that takes us through life? I tell myself I've made the right decision from time to time. Most of the time it's the wrong decision to someone, but I feel like it's the right one. So today I took a ride to some ocean areas, as it was sunny, warm, and I had nothing to do (not true) and was thinking "yes, this is it". The "okay alcohol and drugs are definitely not helping me escape anything, they're actually bringing more on me" feelings. The way I see things from day to day is not real. The marijuana, it's not real. I don't get high anymore. I smoke it, but I don't get high. I drink, I feel drunk...I think. Is this what it feels like: your mouth feels a little strange, you have to piss constantly, you have no sense of balance, and you will say anything that comes to mind? Yes? Well, I don't really think that's a way I can conduct the daily business I need to conduct here. On the other hand, I talk to people that are feeling like that every time I see them, how am I supposed to think of them? I don't remember what a lot of my friends are like when they're sober. The daytime versions of them are so better, yet again.

6.
I think I love this girl. She gets to me once a day at least. Her eyes and smile and laugh and interest in my interest in the Rolling Stones. She makes the color blue better than it is. I’d take her to the Regal Begal and buy her a soda. We could sit at one of those uncomfortably small tables and I could make her laugh her soda all over my t-shirt. I hate drunk women and don’t want to see her like that. I told her the first time we hung out I never wanted to get fucked up around her as I wanted to remember all of the moments. I know there is something there between us as whenever something intense happens during the day I wish she were there to experience it with me. There are good and horrible moments some times. Horrible can’t win this time please, it always does.

5.
Adolf Hitler, completely covered in blood, feathers and smashed up little shards of Sarah Palin’s copy of Morrison Hotel on CD.

4.
Oh how I enjoy that crisp wind that blows brown and bright blue air all over the world in the fall here in New England. Right now, the tail end of a winter I didn’t experience and it feels fresh and nice outside. I need to move myself somewhere good. Yeah I said this and did this already. Wait what?

3.
I have a whole story written out, letters and that kind of thing. I try and work on them once or twice a week, just to keep everything that has happened fresh in my head. I have some sort of listing of statistics and plot points and ideas. I started writing the story early last November, late at night. I worked on it all this time and nobody will ever get to read it. I wrote myself a story for my birthday and will do nothing with it.

2.
Fiction from October of 2000:
You fucked up. You know you did. It was so fucking long ago now. It was probably ten years ago now. You can’t look anyone in the face anymore. Everyone knew about it. You knew you fucked up the next day. For a moment did you use your brain? Did the light go on above your head? Shame. You don’t even have any. You have nothing now. You are filled with guilt, no shame, just guilt. Plain and simple as pie. Your phone hasn’t rang in three years now. Your spiral started ten years ago, and continues to this day. You spiral so far down every week you don'’ know what to do with yourself. Karma. You always doubted it. Now look at you, a sorry son of a bitch staring at the dusty nightstand wondering when it will just end for you. You're to scared to just end it yourself/ Nobody would miss you at this point. Hell they might have tried to help you at one point in your life. I would never wish harm on anyone, I wouldn’t even wish it upon you, but you fucked up. Somewhere down the line you fucked up. Everything was going by quickly; there were long nights of jokes and aliens and drugs. Now your Friday nights are reduced to lonely chicken and rice dinners in that kitchen. That table nobody has sat at in for years now. Go ahead, switch your seat up every other night. You try to liven it up all the time with that chair swapping game. Musical chairs you play with the weekends. Duck, Duck, Duck, Goose! How many times can you stare at that floor and remember that phone call.(fuck, now I remember). I remember making that phone call. I remember having to tell you everything. Spilling my guts out on the floor like that. I see them there every time I sit in that fucking kitchen. That kitchen is so dark in there without your face. It’s cold in there. My weekends yes, my weekends playing solitaire in that kitchen. Eating alone again. Staring at that floor remembering that phone call. I fucked up, yeah. I’m really sorry though. I never wanted to make that phone call, but I had to be honest. To be honest with you right now, I really don’t know what I would have done if I had never told you. I don’t think I can sit in that kitchen without you talking to me. Crying. My dinner every Friday night is with you. It’s by myself. I haven’t picked up the phone to hear your voice. I haven’t checked the mail in a while. Is there a letter from you there? I fucked up. Now I have nobody. I have my little space I live in by myself. I have my dusty nightstand, and I have guilt inside me. I have more guilt than you will ever know. I couldn’t let you take me back. You have the heart of a giant. You have the biggest heart in the world, and I ripped it out and crushed it. (wait, it was you) How will another winter be? Your ninth winter like this. Your ninth winter of those dinners. Try and spice it up a little, maybe eat in the living room one night. Loneliness really sucks doesn’t it? Just when you think you don’t need anyone in your life, loneliness finally crushes you, and there you are not even remembering what a telephone ring sounds like. Remember that time a few weeks back when those people from the magazine company called? You wanted to stay on the phone with them all night. You loved that conversation. Your first conversation in months, years maybe. “Yeah, I’ll take another survey, sure” How many magazines are you getting delivered to you now? Those magazines, those magazines you read, they’re never going to be able to replace the warmth and companionship of another human being are they? You know that as well as I do. You know that you are going to spend the rest of your life sitting in that lonely little world of yours. You are now the victim of yourself. Too weak to stay above water, and too much guilt to go out and face the world. How long before this ends though? How long before you can just stop lying to yourself and put it in front of you? (it’s not your problem). I wish it was just like it was before. Jokes, kisses, stories, etc. I wish I could have dinner with someone, and I wish I could face the outside world for just one more day before this comes to a halt. Is anyone even listening anymore?

1.
People get down this time of year. I always get down this time of year, but it’s a good get down.