The Pussy Whisperer

I hear this high pitch outside, and then it turns into a lower pitch like there are two of “them”. I hear it loud and clear like this guttural scream, calling me late at night. Everywhere around this house is foggy and lonely out there. You don’t know and can’t see anything. I could stay in here with all the lights on until dawn. I know what is happening out there though. I hear their noise and see their shadows rising up to the top of the trees. I see it all and always will, they will just keep following me forever. One of these nights I will be the one who steps out of the shadows. One of these nights I will take this knife and plunge it deep. I don’t want them out there anymore. With the lights on though, I can let them see everything I do.

This existence here and there is tired and ready to explode any second. Motherfuckers, every last fucking one of them.



7/31/00
I just got in from a day of pinball and coffee. I love the old video games and the pinball machines. I sneak around there and spend a quarter here, spend a quarter there. I don't win no gifts for girls. I ain't carryin' around no stinking big stuffed animals. I'm playing, it's just me. Ice cream soda and little kids yellin' and screamin'. This television is spitting out all sorts of things that hurt to look at. The volume is down, but looking over at it from time to time hurts the brain a little. I haven't been down the road in a long time. I haven't taken this route in so long. I like this route here. I like how this winds around and get's me to where I think I need to be. It's worlds better than that fucking train to nowhere. It's way fucking better than the bus. Dances and hugs and pats on the back are never going to fulfill me for as long as I stay on this route. Poetry is not needed anymore. Poetry and flowers and jackets across puddles. Karaoke on Friday night get's canceled for a random trip to the moon. Dinner and a movie ain't helping anyone on this route. John Holmes and Mike Simondiski driving a techno colored station wagon to the ocean for conversation about ecstacy and Mick Jagger lips. Rug burn from sitting on the floor statuesque for far too long through scary movies and rock videos. Park the car by the side of the road, park it across the street so no one sees us. They all start rumors, they all fill themselves with lies about the moon and lies about the way my car runs. The motor runs great, it needs a tune up, it needs to take different drives, silently through beaches and neon lit strips of Elvis Presley videos. Like a man not even with himself anymore. Like a ninja. Like someone in the deep blue sea swimming. I don't know, sort of like if you took one part reality and one part whatever you need to think you would sort of feel this like this.

Day 6: September 11th

I feel like my hands are filthy even though I’ve washed them numerous times today. My whole being feels dirty and gross. I may have to shave or at least “clean up” a little tonight or tomorrow morning. I could have kept driving today I think. I am in Albany and drove a little over 400 miles today to Albany, NY which as you (should) know is about three hours away (I did it in two and a half once) from Boston. I didn’t feel like getting there at night and driving in the dark at this point, especially after driving all day in the sun, is a chore. I may be old though as well. Yesterday I did over 500 miles, so I am ready to be done with this trip. Ending with a brief drive tomorrow is a better idea as unloading all this stuff I have will be easier.

I don’t think I took any pictures today and yesterday only took about five or six. This part of the country is boring, I feel like I wrote that exact thing about “this part of the country” but maybe not. This is going to be a strange adjustment (I think). I never really settled out there so it’s almost like I was on a long vacation. That place (L.A.) doesn’t really have a culture I can put my finger on. It’s too big and is like a giant strip mall, or series of strip malls. There is nothing pleasant to the eye around the Valley/Hollywood, LA, etc aside from the mountains you are surrounded by. After a while though, those grow tired. The irony is that the film industry is big there, which is for the most part based on fiction. I feel like people out there are based on fiction. There is always some two part story to everyone and and everything. It grows tired after a few months. If the only thing keeping me out there was weather, that would be pretty horrible!

In the next couple of days I’ll probably do a more serious “recap” of this trip. I am frankly pretty exhausted at about 20 miles under 3,000 so far. Tomorrow will be the seventh day of driving. People went out and lived and worked and did their thing while I did this. Weird. Fun. Needed, etc. I feel relieved, revived, different, better, worse and healthier all at once.

Vacations

03/11/10 - 4:07 PM

Have some extra time before she gets here to sit around and watch these crackers sitting in Starbucks, along with, me, a fellow cracker. This is the beginning of what will be a few weeks of not standing still. I enjoy this lifestyle better than whatever one I was living in MA before I left and whatever one I was living here for the last few months. Spending a couple of (bittersweet?) days up here on the central coast with her, going back to Boston this coming Tuesday for a week, and then driving out there on the 30th of March, so not much sleeping in a bed that collects dust underneath it. I wonder how slow I can get down to when I get back there. This should be a nice couple of days with her. If not I will be even more sad than ever. There’s no reason why it won’t be anything but good…at least that’s my intention.

Watching and listening to these people. Definitely “Californians”


(and then the next thing you know)
03/12/10 - 3:35 AM

Have no idea how the fuck I am going to do this. I can’t sleep and can’t breathe in this room right now. I’m overwhelmed with this whole situation, per usual. Who does this to themselves? Puts themselves through this?

We walked around downtown at the farmers market. It kind of reminded me of how great it would be to walk around the Topsfield Fair with her all buttoned up in some nice coat. Steam getting laughed out of her face in the cold. Red cheeks and all that good stuff. Fuck.



03/13/10 - 3:48 AM

We had a nice day out today out and about in this area on the water, off the water, etc. The way the mountains line the coast make everything ocean side that much nicer. You have this gigantic wall of earth that you neglect, and then the vast blue ocean and the way the sun hit today and her smile and laugh and the music in the car and taking pictures and eating lunch on the water.

I still can’t really handle that tomorrow I’ll leave here and probably never come back to this place, at least for a long time. My head anyway. I can’t be where I was in September, August, July, all of those months when everything was just a little different. Another night here I’ll never get to sleep, drive off into the distance tomorrow and just wait around twiddling my fingers for days. I’m kind of an asshole and deserve to have shitty things happen to me. This situation though, well. I feel like such a fucking idiotic moron, and who knows, I could have no idea what I am talking about, but really, it doesn’t matter anymore

Keep seeing weird shadows fly around the room here while she sleeps over there. I can’t ever get to sleep at the same time. I have to come here and get something out of me before sleep

It’s warm in here, way too warm to sleep
It’s freezing in here, way too cold to sleep
I doubt I could ever really explain how shitty I feel
I don’t have enough fingers to type it out
I don’t have enough hours left to explain it out
I just know exactly how I feel
I know how I’ve felt, which can’t be wrong
Sometimes I apparently make
(fuck, what the hell am I doing?)



+++++++++++++++++
3/13/10 – late afternoon
That was worse than I thought it would be. Eating lunch and then saying goodbye, no real view of anything in the future; Just walking away and waving and her blowing me a kiss and me driving back down here to “try again” at making myself happy. Nobody is ever going to want to sit around and wait for me to be normal. I feel like I have exhausted any chance at “love” at this point in time. I feel like I should pack it in with these at this point. They are hard to walk away from, and this one has truly been the hardest. In a few weeks I will drive across country by myself, further and further away from her wondering what the hell I just did, or feeling like the happiest guy in the world. Whatever the case or feeling I have that morning I leave here the intensity of this whole thing has proven to be too much for me and I really need that week by myself to let it all sink in, but oh God do I already miss her. I should probably drive home now and play some music loud so I can put my head somewhere else for the day.

I Crawl Like a Viper

They pry things open. This is what I do as well. I apparently have good eyesight as I see things. All of it is stuff I wish I never saw in the first place. I go out late at night looking for it until I find what I need, add it to my collection of paranoid delusions. My steady diet of conspiracy theories and award winning documentaries about lying. Where I once held everyone in some sort of dim light, I now hold bright lights over them, unable to break them. I never want to put people on the spot but it's the only way to break them.

(gliding through unfamiliar cities at night. Crystal clean windshield so everything sparkles. This deafening quietness outside that surrounds the car like this orange tinted ghost that has no shape. It envelopes the car in a soothing way and if you go too fast you miss everything good. Bright white moon colored strips of light on the river. A man you’ll never meet walking alone. A park bench with an orange light next to it. Then buildings taller than you are, they swallow you whole. Tunnels and overpasses bring you to another area of the city or to a place outside you will never see again. Traveling like this, quick fast and in a hurry. A good way to see everything in orange and white.)


I imagine just being the eyes and ears here and not a mouth will work out better for me. I feel like I hit some sort of epitome that will only help me out in the long run. At least as far as giving me a head start when it comes time to run far away from all of the plastic and piss out here. Listening to their conversations, you can form a million ideas about every one of these weak mother fucks. You can see who they are from over here. Hey man, over here, yeah okay where were we? Oh yeah lets talk about the money now.

(I had traveled from massachusetts to parts of pennsylvania only blind people would dare to go. nothing there will make you laugh or cry in a good way the way say...utah will. I had ideas that must have left the same night I arrived. The room filled with smoke when I arrived, it was so hot that night even...)

I imagine these scenarios in my head for a split second. They will come into my head from now until I cleanse my head with something, I don’t know what. They show up in my head and I shiver. I won’t sleep. There is no way I can go to sleep with these in my head. There is no reason I get myself into this patterns and scenarios. From now until forever they will ruin anything I try to feel good about.

-Fifteen-

These fucks with all their protein drinks and energy bars and crystals and fruit flavored hamburgers and the like, do they ever get tired of paying that much attention to themselves? Do they ever just want to give up? Their designer glasses and haircuts. Anytime I can think of a scenario in my head with which they are burned to death in a barn or something, I stop and let that play out in my head for a minute or so and come back to reality.

Sometimes, I just want to be left alone, for long periods of time. Lately I never feel like being interviewed. I never feel like asking questions. For weeks here I was thinking my problem was I needed to meet more people. Now that I am, I don’t have any kind of interest in what people are all about. At 40 years old, I am all set now. I don’t care about things people think I may be interested in. Where they get some of their impressions is beyond me.