Ohio

Trying to fall asleep and I think every night I should be reading because my head spends the whole time staring at the floor, my arm, whatever reading thoughts and images going in and out of my brain. Do I really want to forget green yellow and blue for a life of grey and the sound of a trillion people complaining about anything they can. How miserable can they all be? I need some sort of entertaining distraction, fall TV, a thousand books, a million songs I am supposed to learn on guitar and offers to join bands that don’t ever need to exist. Drugs, film and money I could be spending on better things than just coffee and fuel. Watching everyone around me remain a member of some odd fraternity of who knows what. Invitations to parties I wouldn’t have gone to even when I was a winner. I can’t even muster up the energy to reply to emails and phone calls. Unless you’re offering me money or a way to make money, why?

Clouds of poison air hang over me everywhere I go. They end up raining on me and there I am again, not able to breathe or move. Paralyzed and sick. Done for the evening and that kind of thing.  I wish there was a way to just remain in the sun for more than fifteen minutes but I don’t think there is. I’ll never take any kind of drug for this. I’ll never talk to any kind of professional person for this, this is just how it is now. Great. I’ll someday learn to not complain about it so much though.

In the midst of late night games of tag and hide and seek I like to sit back and watch the kids ring around the rosey. It’s a bit sad how people regress in mobs. Mobs, large groups. They get together and all of a sudden muscles are flexed and cocks are pulled out for size comparison. It bothers me that I know some of these people. It bothers me yes; to a point of wrapping my arms around the cool white toilet and vomiting out any memories I might have of any of these people saying things like “Yeah, I’m sensitive”, or “No I’m not a slut”, or “No, I don’t tease men”, or “I care about you, I want you”. No I haven’t taken anyone serious in years. I’ve no need to. Actions speak louder than words. Doesn’t anyone know this? Doesn’t anyone know tales of debauchery have been told to my deaf ear for a million years now? I don’t think so. I don’t tell people how I feel if it’s something I don’t agree with. First off, it’s none of my business. Secondly, I do what I do, they do what they do. There’s no in between anymore. There’s no overlap. The things I want to do are nothing like what anyone wants. I’m a boring guy. I want to stay in, or go out with a couple of people and joke around here and there. I don’t have the fancy guitar work down yet, and I don’t have the lip history. I don’t have many references around here. There is a family of shared saliva that I would rather not have anyfuckingthing to do with at this point. It has gone so far now that it’s become a ridiculous parody of itself. I like to sit back and watch people spiral downwards though. Sometimes it’s the only way to get through to people who are “friends”. You don’t get a word in edgewise, why not just watch them smash into the wall? Then you can walk over with that big shit-eating grin on your face and a glass of iced water with your hand out “I told you so” When they go to grab you hand you pull it away. “I’m off to see the wizard” Girls do their hair up in blue and green and guys do their best Billy Idol impressions, I laugh my head off at them. Sounds like fun honey. Thirdly, No one wants to hear me talk. I have too many opinions. I’d rather leave them in my head or on here where a small number of people I know and don’t know read them. I don’t want to get into telling people what to do more than I want to tell people what not to do. I am no ones father here. Hugs just don’t feel the same when the same arms are wrapped around every warrior around the corner. There’s no personal feeling there. That feels good because it’s strong I guess. What’s happening upstairs though? Air and oxygen. Or lack of oxygen maybe? I don’t feel like falling down anymore. I haven’t fallen down in years, since this past few months. I feel wasted. I feel untouchable. I feel stronger. I feel weaker. Everyday is a new emotion. I like the cool iced water going down my throat. I like being myself. I like to always be myself. I don’t want to act anymore. I’m going to be the guy who plays a bad guitar. I’m going to stay in front of this mirror and beg and plead and pray, but I’m not going to go to the movie shoot this week. I’m not going to go to the scene where the guy walks in and wraps his arms around the girl and says “honey I’m home”. I have no home with anyone. I have no place to rest my head except right behind me with the pillow and the blanket and the dinosaur. I light candles for me, and I fill the room with Nag Champa, but I go at it alone. Sure the door is open for visitors, I just don’t know if the visitors are coming any time soon. I always chase them away with my eyes.

Despite all of this though, I feel like I see the end of the tunnel down there. I mean I think I do, if not. Hrm.