Randy -- part one
date ??
2 -08??
posted at myspace blog...
A strange pain....and
a better messiah...
>>>>>>>>
>>> Stare.
Staring into the mirror...
who is looking back ?
???
I dont know what i look like anymore...
an etherial spirit of light gracing the heavens...?
A lump of dust...walking toward my next death?
evolved -
the enlightend...falling...
in a spiraled journey homeward bound...
Am I
A sad - desperate, tired consumer, lost in the media mire of self pity and greed and forever wanting???
i look into the mirror and see lost traces...
of other lifetimes...pain, incredible joy - sadness...
traces...of traveling...
wandering...
I see
the residue of of things I threw away...
things that always come back...Ghosts...
Nghtly - nightly hauntings...
I see
a dream,
another life,
a vision - so faded that I hardly recognize what i wanted to be...
like a past life....
past lives...people who are gone...
reflections - passersby...
nieghboors, my nieghboors - their grey-whiteless dark painted -
lost faces...
painted like steel -
pain and closed--off
I watch them - I stare -
they come and go...
their doors open and close...
their lives go on...
on hold...
they stare...
on the street they look away...
run away...
into the rain - they are gone..
the rain taps upon the pavement...
upon the window...
I stare...out.
gently,
day becomes night...
I stare into a window - all the windows
and wonder
where I've been-- who is the ghost that entered my life on some unknown street or corridor...
the ghost within -
in my body that seems to stare back at me thru all these windows - stares back to me from my nieghboors eyes...
I freeze.
Somewhere I became frozen.
Hanged, upside down...the brown-red blood dried eyes...
of the paralyzed...of the desert, of a moving tired black sky...reflecting...
frozen - clouds...
not bright nor simple nor innocent...
but my eyes...move...slowly
(frozen) - they move...but there is no movement...
inside...
outside - storms...fog, melancholy: night...
where I could be going...? I wonder...
I go away - when i stare....
frozen and melting...the window shows....me melting...and smoking and lighting and lightning...
lying...
filled with truth...
mirrors - windows, reflections...
everywhere...
windows - hallways - portals...:closed...
the phone rings..
another lost confession...
calling on the ears of sorrow...
I hang up - and feel nothing...
I fall into staring and dreaming...
back to when I was a boy...
to become the boy...
the boy- who wanted to be a Dad...
the Father that never arrived...
Always around the corner...
rage - or vengefull...quiet and absent...
my father...now long gone...but haunting and hovering still...
always.
Staring...
I'am
in my dreams -- I'am now the "Dad"
in my dreams...
I'am walking through the door - strong and pure -
the band of gold gleaming...the perfect masculinity...
I lean down to embrace everyone withn the walls of my castle...
the family pet - wagging its tail...
carrying the newspaper..- reading it stoically....
the pilliair of truth and wisdom and sanity...
like a dream...
when I was...
12 years old...
I wanted to be just like my Dad...
it was all going to be so wonderful...
an imaginary picket fence surrounding our lives...
our lives...
the picket fence of our lives...
The television version...
nothing could stop us from "Being Happy..."
Being Happy:
fear and doubts and obvious strange dis-eases could never permeate nor penetrate the boundary...of the picket fence...
no - the perfect dream of beauty and light and being good...
of being happy---could never be tainted...
No. will never be tainted...
my dream - from another life so long long ago - it was
all so coated and flooded with light....
Like a magician, a prince, a king -- a ruler - I (would) protect the kingdom...
become the saviour...
the Messiah...of your own life ...?
Who is the savior of our time ?
this...
messiah - this person or thing or idea that will awaken us out of this cave of shadows - and lost dreams...?
the dull ache of what we could be-- could have been or wanted to be - and awaken us to what we are....
each day.
The World begins to spin furiously....
It stops making sense for you...
crushing you in the crucible of intellectualizing...
of wanting too much,
or
of having feelings...
of seeing all the opposites..
thinking one thing and then feeling another...
of morality, and perpetuity, of value and consequnece...
of choices - and meaning...and
of lost meaning...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
>>>>>>>strange pain...
today was not unlike any other day actually...
I awoke amongst the mutterings of my lost youth and confidance - amongst the scatter of my pity - stupidity - humanity - lust and history...
Coffee brewing - while I light candles for my morning meditation...
first thought upon awakening...
"Half dead or almost alive...?"
I cant decide which one...
It seems I'am always wondering when life will begin here or then again - when it will end...
Life begins at fourty...fifty is the new 30...
life begins...
Life is the solution ?
or
Life is the problem ?
when...
your younger -- you wish to be older...
alas
your older you yearn to be younger...
Awake..
stop staring...just awake...
>>>>>>>>
I awake...
to my history....
as far back as I could remember - life was always a dare...
A want
a gamble...
strange - laughable....
boring...
the life of fears -
the life of inherited pains and aches...
a genius haze of self hatred coating everything
causing a constant need -
an inflammation...
this is how I awake...
from the long night of dreams...
of yester-years....
Age 12 -
The Frozen memory.
(If you could go back...)
to the age where - everything stopped and you were frozen...
forever
The age where you closed off or stopped processing new information about the world or even yourself...
lost traces
of the day you knew youd always be alone...
The remembrance of
the time you realized that you were sitting in a rotting lump of flesh that began dying from the moment you opened your eyes - yes your body...
dying...this is your life ending - one moment at a time...
Here...
Now
morning - coffee brewing - meditation....but nothing ever seems to move..
First memory- my father was not happy to see me...
pause...
>>>>>>>>>>
coffee still works to a degree...and yes I still smoke...
coffee - no sugar and a fine organic cigarette...and then a long meditation - sometimes up to two hours if I have the day off...
Lots of coffee and meditation...
An infinite buzz - all the way around...
Feeling good....
Candles. OMMM chanting - buzzed...and high...
but at the end of the day i need to double-dose my sleeping pills...
Captain Ambien....
ah yes...just take two and its like instant suicidal thinking...
lulled and seduced - if not hypnotized....into the dreamless state:
frozen for a few hours...Ambien doesnt put you to sleep : its freezes you...
sleeping pills: Ambien
Heath Ledger - so they said - took Ambien and died ?
I loved Heath...
Frozen: is that the same as numb?
froze -
i froze - so long ago...perhaps - it became ice inside...?
sleeping -
hypnotic rest -?
spaceless - dreamless --
movementless - dark time...where nothing comes in and nothing comes out -
like being paralyzed
only
your eyes are closed...
or worse - of course - during most of my days..paralyzed in another way..
paprlyzed with your eyes opened...
the Hanged man....
pause...
>>>>>>>>>was anything ever supposed to make sense here?
was anything ever supposed to be healed here....
was anything ever supposed to be filled here...with Life..
was anyone at anytime
ever allowed to move...from the lost state of hopeful - pitiful - implanted wants and fears and dreams that were handed to you....before you could utter your first sentence or understand the word "NO..."
?
was anything really - ever supposed to touch you?
what was the point?
what is the point ?
life washing over you - - happens around you but it seems as if nothing changes...
They don't teach you about grief in grade school...
or the shame it seems to bring...
they dont tell you that residue such as things that happen before you take your first legal drink...
can paralyze you...
can throw you deep into the spiral of doubt and honor, or onto the fringe of insanity...forever creating from a space of pain...
No. They don't tell you that...
that your face will become leathered, carved with time and memories...
that your body is only here for a few moments...
that you are in the mind of creation set to play a part---miscast or not...thye don't explain things like - "Life circumstances..."
Youth: alive- beautiful...tradgic-powerful..
filled with light that can not be stopped...
No.
>>>>>>>>>Randy was the first born son on my Uncles side of the family...
I remember him being so beautiful...
I dont think I've ever seen light such as his come out of anyones eyes since him...
since that day...
Randy: >>>> light brown hair that streaked to blonde in the summer skies over California where i grew up...with bright luminous wise soothing eyes that were the perfect light Blue...almost the color of water...
Under the sun drench and glare of swimming pools...
Randy -- in his swim trunks...smiling and yelling at me to come into the pool...
Tall, strong, silent - confidant...life could never harm him...
Summer..
beach Sundays and yeah working on cars in my Uncles garage...
going to football games...getting drunk...smoking pot...watching TV..
my 2 cousins all hung around in the summers...me, Jake, (Randy's younger brother)...and I laid by the pool most days...
my uncle had the standard white plaster pool that turned the water the perfect swimmingpool-blue -- which I liked: but the pool at my parents house was plastered: Black...we were the first ones in our neighboorhood to have a colored swimming pool...
I loved it...
Black warm water to swim in...
Murky,
Dark.
A mysterious body of bottomless mercury like --
liqiud to swimm in...
My parents where never around: Dad was golfing or something...
Mom was somewhere...at the Club...dripping with fear and diamonds...having lunch...
sometimes detoxing from diet pills: in bed watching soap operas...
we pretty much did what we wanted...
At night sometimes I'd smoke a few bong hits...
sometimes alone or sometimes with Jake and Randy - sometimes with only Randy...
My Uncles house was in the next tract of houses over....just a quick bike ride away: maybe ten minutes at most...so were always one place or the other...my parents never really checked that much where we were: they knew we were around...somewhere...
Smoking a bowl...Taking Bong hits...
>>>>>yeah. Randy and I would smoke a bowl of some ritcheous "HawwiianGolden" buds and mellow the hell out...and laugh and watch Tv or maybe sit by our pool...or his and talk...
If it was late at night sometimes Randy would tell spooky-like ghost stories...
>>>>>>>>>>>which I totally lived for...
Randy, he was around 14 maybe 15 when he and my uncle bought a car - for Randy.
an oldie - junker for him to begin fixing up so that when Randy was 16 he would have the "Coolest wheels..."in the hood...
"Lifes a long dare...or it's nothing" one night Randy said from out of nowhere...handing me the bong that I hid in our garage just in case my Mom snooped around my bedroom..or something..
Randy handed me the bong and said that..."Life is a dare..."
I was mesmerized by his words sometimes...
but after you smoked pot - you always said strange - funny or kinda mystical - intellectual things like that - or so I remember...
"It's all a dare..." Randy's words echoed and seem to stick in the back of my mind...that one week...
"A Dare..."
"Life is a dare..."
My eyes wondered up into the night sky and then back to the Black pool heated always to 80 degrees or higher...just like a bathtub...
and wafting a type of chlorinated mist into the backyard...
The seabreezes were less than a half a mile away...sometimes teasing you with a faint smell of salt air...balmy: calling: whispering the waves pounding far away...
I was really stoned that night...
I laid my head onto Randy's lap and fell a sleep...
I was - I think around 12 or 13 only a few years younger than Randy...and Jake was I think 14 but Randy seemed so much older...to me..like secure or he knew things...that I didn't...
we were totally stoned - so Randy carried me off to bed...and i fell into a safe slumber..but later I - woke up to see the full moon slid slowly across my window and went outside into the backyard and just sat there...
staring down into the bottomless black swimming hole that I loved so much...
It was like a magic pond or something: something mystical or that could bring healing or something special...:
something extraordinary...
Jake was nowhere around that night...maybe at the park or in the back - cement/basin/waterwash run-offs that traversed much of Los Angeles...
where he loved riding his bike and looking at junk people threw in there soemtimes...
My uncles house was built along one of those basins...those giant cement basins that seem to begin nowhere and run forever: back to nowhere...and when it rained...you sure knew what they were for....but you never knew where all that water ended up...
My father's cement company:
Parker Brothers provided all that cement...
and Jake would sometimes remark how our dads company paved nearly all of those basins and most of the sidewalks in LA as well and then hed laugh and say...but nobody ever uses them because everyone drives!!!
HA!ha....
"Cement, Pavements and Decking...Do it with Parker Brothers..."
My Dad's and my uncles company also did : pool decks...
parking lots and alot of high schools...yeah they were all built with Parker building materials...all those cement basins...and yeah the sidewalks that no one ever used...
Pretty much wherever we went in California...well, atleast southern California anyway - wed be driving or sometimes walking on cement that came through and was brokered by Parker Brothers...
"Over 25 trucks now..." my Dad would often repeat to my mother...at breakfast or driving in the car somewhere...my mother would just stare out the window...like she was riding a star in another galaxy...or something -- : lost--not there....
>>>>>>>>>
The LA cement/waterway/basins...
when it rained Jake and Randy and I would watch the cement basins fill up with water...
and they filled up fast...sometimes -- the junk that had been in there or thrown in there from the Summer would float by...:
once we saw an entire tree, and another time a car....
no lie just floating by...
the waters could get up to 30-40mph when it rains hard for several days...rushing past us and rushing fast wed sit on the dirt ledge and watch the water run by fast...it seemed wild - wonderous...going somehwere and doing it fast...
sometimes Jake would lift up the manholes in the street near his house and walk through the sewer channels that lead into the larger cement basins along under his house and under all the nieghboors house - I went with Jake once...it was just he and I and jake stopped to take a piss and then showed me his dick and started laughing...
and I ran away...
you never knew what Jake was going to do...he had this totally fucked up wild streak...maybe kinda violent...but yeah something in him was just wild...
>>>>>>One afternoon a few days after it had rained...
my Aunt was down at the neighboors having Margaritas...
we sat by my uncles pool..the blue pool...Randy and I talking...
Randy liked to talk...he was calmer than Jake...
Jake was always doing something: trying to make pipe bombs...
trying to catch the nieghboors cat to torture it...sticking fire crackers in frogs mouths and lighting them...and then laughing...
Jake was always laughing about something...
>>>>>>>>Coffee brewing...first thought of the day...
Randy...
what happened to Randy ---
first thought - before (lighting) the first cigarette...
"Too many things have happened to me and most of them dont matter anyway..."
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
A mound of dirt
Jake carrying a shovel...
where my cousins burrowed and dug a childs fort - a fortress of sorts to play in...and in one early afternoon, my aunt down the block having early afternoon margaritas...could not hear when my oldest cousin sufffocated inside -the walls of his teenage kingdom -
walls - the dirt caved in...
he was dead - gone within minutes...
frozen...
he comes to me sometimes...in dreams - about what he could have become...what he would have looked like as a man...who he would have loved and what his hopes were....
>>>>>>>>
After that day...
Jake and I used to climb the fence and stare off or at the mound of dirt - the hole....where our now buried somehwere else friend and relative passed away...
or
Wed simply sit there quiet kick more dirt into the hole..where it happned...
and not talk...
or
Wed climb back over the fence....and sit on the edge - ledge of the patio deck -
our feet kicking in the blue swimming pool....or sometimes get stoned by the black one...
looking up at the sky...talking telling jokes or in silence...
plenty of kids in our nieghboorhood had swimming pools...
everyone almost in fact...it was no big deal for us...
except for the Markley's who never mowed their lawn and everyone said their dad was an alcoholic...
>>>>>>>One time we were standing on the patio furniture table that Jake pulled to the fence and looking at the mound of dirt - and hole - where Randy disaapeared...we thought my Aunt was down at the Johnston's having daquiris or margeritas..like she usually did...but then she came into the backyard...I will never forget it:
she was wearing these lime green pants that were really tapered at the ankles...and a sleeveless top white with a design of smallish blue swirls...typical mom - summer by the pool outfit...sunglasses...like jackie O...and she freaked...when she saw us and knew we were gazing into the hole...it was really quiet at the time - and then there was a pained scream kinda..."Get off that fence---" almost tears...and then she disappeared into the kitchen and we heard glass breaking...breaking into the sliding glass door...off the patio--
Martha, was throwing these really exspensive glass figurines onto the floor of the kitchen and into the sliding glass door...
and it cracked into a spiderweb but didnt fall out...just cracked into a perfectly "fuckedup" krinkly circle...and didn't move any further...
then everything was silent and Martha - my aunt, was gone -- lost somewhere in the house - probably on the second story...maybe looking out over the ocean...
Jake and I jumped off the table and looked at each other - kinda blankly - if that makes sense and then Jake pulled the table away from the fence back to where it had been next to the two chaise lounges...but when he did it made a loud long screech...from the metal roughing along the cement...we looked up and saw my aunt looking out the window....
we walked into the kitchen and began cleaning up the mess and sweeping everything up...Jake said something like:
"Wow - my mom even broke the crystal swan she liked so much...
(I'll guess now that it was either: Swarovski or Lilique...the figurines...that sat in the center of the dinning room table where we ate alot of times..but mostly in the breakfast nook...my aunt called it..)
the dinning room table was not all that big actually - it had a circle cut into the exact middle about ten inches around and these is where the glass figures found their home...floating there mostly---as if they were all in a dream...)
((we knew they cost alot of money but really didn't know that not all moms bought things like that...my mom collected Llardo instead...mostly clowns - sad - quiet thin clown statues...of all kinds...in every pose...and they were all around the house...but not on any table where we ate...)
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
after that Jake disappeared and I think he lifted up a manhole cover and then slid it back over the pavement and descended into the waterway sewer system...which opens up into the larger water basin about a half a mile away...abolut three blocks away from the beach...
I went upstairs sensing no movement in the house at all and uncovered Randy's bed covers and slid into the sheets...
imagining..of course, that he was in there with me...and the Tv was on and we were in our boxers-- talking and laughing...
I felt him there warm and reassuring...
kinda cuddling behind me - like he did when i got too tired to go home and just stayed at my aunts's house for the night...
Randy and I sleeping together...I always felt safe with him next to me -
I fell into a perfect sleep...that afternoon...what Jake and I would call:
"the glass breaking day...."
The black Swimming Pool....
the first haircut...
how old are you when you can walk and talk and put thoughts together about the world - the adults around you - your place in the scheme of it all...your intelligence gauged against others - your "position" so to speak here in this Earth-dream...
the wonders of life are hidden- at times so obvious that we miss them --
that we awake in the same body everyday--
the we take a substance into our bodies and something happens...
the we move matter around...
that our perfect bodies dream of flying at night...
that we can remember anything at all...
yes even the spring sun kissing the flowers...
thunderstorms and rain...
the freshly cut grass - piled up into a mound next to the fresly raked leaves...
ice cream on a hot August sunday...
all perefct miracles...
all wonderful dreams...
all connected to our bodies...
that we leave one day..holding all the gold...in the pockets of our spirits...
Randy was never really afraid - like I was -
it was Jakes idea to build the fort....actually, but Randy was big enough to help us and carve it out...i think he was around 14 or 15 at the time...
while Randy dug and dug - pushing the dirt into a new creation...Jake spun cartwheels and told stories about how our fort would be the best in the neighboorhood...
I remember Randy hitting a sharp twing of granite...the shovel stopped curving into the ground - hed hit something...
I high above him - our eyes met...what the hell..? he said from down below...
"What is it ??"
i remarked...and just then Jake from his whirling cartwheel spun over close to the ledge...
it was Jake's jump actually that cracked the burrowed walls to cave in...but I never told anyone that : Jake and I were bound forever in this secret...
in slow motion as these things always occur took place almost on cue...my eyes were fixed onto Randy's - his onto mine...the horrible revelation that was about to come...and then Jakes peering inward and down and then the ground broke beneath me - flipped me backward and swallowed Randy and the shovel...
>>>>>>>
U remember thinking how beautiful he was - if a 12 year old could have such a thought, that he seemed so strong and powerful...digging...shirt off covered with sweat, doing something truly important...
and then the sky of that afternoon would not bring success and the time to play...no -- later after the ambulance took away Randys body...it would open up -- unzipping a cascade of water -- a brief storm filling the hole instantly where only minutes before Randy's warm almost a full grown man full of promise and masculitniy and light...Randys body lay covered, now lifeless...his body there - but Randy his bright perfect smile - and luminous blue eyes...closed - randy was gone...that light gone...
the hole filled up with water - in the nest few weeks -- id peer over the fence...
i often imagined him somehwere in the bottom swimming...- holding his breath...alone but never cold...i always imagined him warm and fresh...
oftentimes i dream of him...crawling out of that hole...shirtless - all the dirt washed away in a rainstorm and him standing arms outstretched and glorious...surviving death...
perhaps running over to me and lifting me up - and swinging me around...thunder above, rain pelting - laughter and fun...again....
that he was only lost and that i could somehow find him and bring him back...
wed laugh and crawl back over the fence - just us two alone in the night - dancing or laughing....
and going home toghether to play or watch Tv together...
I dream this dream often -- with variations but Randy always young and beautiful and free....
>>>>>>>>>>>>>
it was about a week after Randy went away that he came to me in a dream...the dream was that he and i were watching Tv together - jake was in the kitchen somehwere making noise or trying to figure out how to turn on the oven to cook a frozen pizza...my aunt left for us...
it was nightime- and we were simply sitting there enjoying the Tv program when suddenly Randy sat up abruptly...looked up as of something had flown by - or were crawling on the ceiling - staring intently and then hugging me gently and kissing the top of my forhead...and saying: "Hey, lil bro...I have to go...now...."
and then without warning - the lights go out - the house is quiet and empty - randy is gone jake is gone...and I walk out into the back yard quietly and sit beside the swimming pool...a dark watery hole reflecting silver back to me from the moon...
>>>>>>>>>>
sometimes for breif seconds gazing into a mirror - getting ready for work - ill see Randys face, or that silvery reflected surface of the black swimming pool, underneath the reflection..
black and fluid...
lost there -
lost in that afternoon...
in the nights spent talking to Randy--falling a sleep or him holding me while we watched Tv...
never truly understanding the ripples it made...but kind of knowing how deeply death affects you...when someone you thought would always be there and then for no reason...is just simply not there...sudden and sharp---they are gone...
things are gone...
lives are gone...entire futures are affected...
outcomes altered forever more....
frozen, covered, buried but always there...covered but hovering...
holding your hand - always fresh...
>>>>>>>>>
you die when your at peace here...
your alive because your stil in conflict...something needs to be done...
said -- healed...broken open...a chance to see another sunset-- the waves..the waters of a lake at dusk...another garden to be planted...
a beachday picnic...something wonderful...
when youve collected enough memories.. when your body stops breathing...when your misery exceedes your joy....
>>>>>>>>>>>>>if i made any mistake here - it was neglecting the living because i was lost in the deaths of the past...
>>>>>>>>>I was still writing the story of my life - we live -- the world goes around because of our stories not because of money - or greed or jesus or inasnity - the world goes around and we live on the stories of those who wnet before us - for good or for bad...
we hang on and live until we know our story is coming to a close...that someone heard it - and that we knew it...that we were done writing it and had enough love and passion and memories unfrozen now to take home...to heaven - to the other side to keep us always warm and always wanting to come back...
we hold stories in our bodies...
plotlines - characters weve known or wanted to be...
images of us winning...
wanting it all to play out another way or carressing a fond vignette where everything seemed to go right...
we toss around and discard certain things - some still burning alive and pressed into us like the day they happned and some of course torn and faded...finally expiring to our thoughts and then compleltey forgotton...
>>>>>Awake...
I believe I know "The Secret" to life....
dont ever make the mistake of thinking anyone or anything will ever be sane...
including yourself...
this revelation took four near death experiences - three breakdowns and several trips to the emergency room and or hospital....
>>>>>the residue of fear we collect....
becomes a strange pain...that I suspect ends up becoming out only friend..
vague - unclear - luminous and shattered...
it haunts us - hunts us - down unitl we can no further resist its companionship...then sits with us -- our pyshical selves crushed - sucked and whitered...hopefuly our souls somehow healed or at the least satisfied that the "movie" of our lives -- was worth the trip...
I awake...haunted - by the retarded Oedispis of my forfathers....
all the projected poverties-- and unwanted feeelings and unlived dreams...
by the mental illness enforced and connected to my sexuality...
by those around me still lost and living in oblivion...
by those almost enlightend...by the darker corners Ive sat in---by the light I'am trying to touch...
i hand over the 1700 faconable jacket to my 6 month old dachshund hound -- knowing somewhere its going to put my step-mother in a grave if she were to ever find out -
in this life - things are important but people take a secondary role - to things...
things meaning - ideas - concepts - the whole - the system or yes even actual pocessions...money is what matters here - eventhough try as you may to validate it - the world will tell you that people are first -
they are not -
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
lasting happiness doesnt exist - this is the neurosises that we all suffer from...
atleast not the lasting and eternal happiness that bible beaters pretend to sell...and theres a reason why so many people buy it -
why - its a dream....
the lost dream of us all...
that god is good or a person or a man for that matter...
yeah that type of happiness - that someday -- somewhere -- out there youll be rewarded - with truth - and love and happiness the happiness fo being good....
no matter how hard ive tried - can someone please tell me why the human mantra always seems to wind up being - i hate you because...?
look in the mirror and repeat:
everyday upon awakening...."I hate you because..."
pause.......
insight into the human drama...
the melancholy plateu of revelation-- that comes after listening to thomas newman music - from chain smikong and malnutrition - from being overdosed in the hospital on percodans
- from a binge of cocaine - from having a dick up ur ass - one in ur mouth and thinking about how wonderful it is to walk your dog or glance up at the full moon fog covering it just perfectly
- just as your about to be rolled for the five dollars in your wallet...
something happens - god comes...
because thru all the dis-ease and dysfunction and medication, and meditation, thru all the lost ghosts of your high school past or haunted dreams of wanting something....thru the terror and panic and excitement and phone calls and the tears and rage - something happnes that allows us to not compleltey self destruct...something like light and god or gentlness - or forgiveness -- something like that -
pity - shame - grief - horror - the way my dog looks at me when she eats...the kibble shooting out of her mouth onto the floor she looks up at me - unguarded...kind of a dumb smile on her face...
my heart broke in two the first time i saw it -
miracles...happen...
from all the tragedy and tradegies we create real or imagined that we create - miracles happen...
the miracle of the voice that told me to step out of the bathtub as i was being electrocuted....
the miracle of something that pulled me off the burning matrress in college...
the miracle of something so simple - as my dead stale brown dried up onions growing into these strong green life filled tender yearlings...
the miracle of the counter person smiling when i went to the deli after getting out of the hospital - i wieghed all of 110 pounds - and looked like ET...a dying ET and she simply smiled a perfect smile and said have a good day...
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
comedy or tradegy - ?
how bout life is a tradegy or a miracle...
>>>instead of becoming the tragedy
I became the miracle....
i finally realized that i was born into slavery and had crawled out and was now free -
rather than thinking i was born free with hope and promise - and then lost it -
the epiphany....complete - until the next time -
t
later that afternoon...
young huslter bro - in a new outfit - stands in a booth in his underwear - bubble butt prominant - and i lean in to watch as his last trick - john ?
walks over to the paper towel rack -- pulls a few sheets off and then hands then to him - and then makes a prompt exit - i still watch -- not ever trying to keep my desires reserved - i want to be next - i want him to undress again and further and cal me in but he doesnt - -- more wanitng -
then a troll - maybe 5-4tall - big dark sunglasses that youd proabably buy at a liquor store or a 7-11 ofr 3-99 and a totally bad die job - perhaps i detect a faint smuge of rougue on this queens face - the lips pursed like an older rich woman who just saw the pool book take hi shirt off down next to the pool house - with a half used up bar of all the finest liqour....in her house full of diamonds and prada....
yeah - here she is - waving me into her own booth - my stomache wretches and i turn down another isle pretending to chk out the young twicks sections and then thr treasure island bare-backing pig section...
a black dude simply appears behind me -
i see my face in the mirror and then spy young huslter bro - and make my way twoard him -- now so awash in adreniline i seem to float through the space my feet somehow moving but iam not connected to them
iam lost in the huslters soft brown eyes....
iam lost in seeing my father's face...
iam lost at the barber shop...when i was 4- maybe 5 years old...
iam lost in the curves of tommy's red still half wet swim trunks that outline even crack and curve of his young beautiful body -
every curve -- the outline of his balls - the tip of the head of his cock - kinda full and hot - sitting there almost waiting to break into a full hard bone - as he rolls a joint - in front of me on the side of the bed -- and lights it - and winks and offers it to me - - i say no because iam afraid so he smokes it alone - tommy is maybe 16- maybe 17 - the edge of 17...
when i was 13 at the lake - in the desert-- 102 scroching degrees of no humidity totally dry heat --
I pck up the phone and call my oldest sister...
i think about mumbling -- something to the effect of:
"I'am sorry your brother turned out to be a fag...and had to leave for 20 years until the world was safe for homosexuality - or atleast somewhat safe..." that atleast until the shame of it didnt burn you alive and everything around you - alot of men become failures because of what they never achieve - in my time if you hapened to be a queer -- be born that way - you were out of default a failure as a man - a future husband? A bread winner...of a "good" father...
a failed successor to the throne of your parents affection...
you had no other choice -- back in that time long ago..but to leave - disappear become the whisper in the kitchen during cocktail parties...
"Hows your son doing ? you have a Son dont you...?"
my mother stirring and whirling the olives in her gin martini --
"Oh Sean...hes a "writer" in New York...." and then change the subject...or pour everyone more drinks...
>>>>I often think we stay alive - in hopes of that one afternoon where we can simply sit there on a sundrenched patio or perhaps a darkned room alone...and all the frozen dreams of past -- all the wonderous pain soaked hopes and yearnings can spill out of you like a perfect waterfall...clean, clear, lucid and warm...feeling all the things that happened seeing them from the eyes of the sage - and understanding them--letting them free...to be alive again...
the power of now...
the thoughts that something better is coming - the knowledge that dreams are so important and grief and shame is what drives us...into those futures...where we make peace...and then go home...
my uncle throws us into the pool....and down to the bottom i go -
my beard grayed from the elapsing of time...but i still have the same look in my eyes...quiet - knowing - sad - a crooked smile...skin turning into death and the viens rising...and exposed...but the same feeling...standing there on a beach...the sun coating my face...
a perfect golden sun...
looking up...
into a big cloudless sky...
and like always...
the entire world spilling out of me...
all the dreams...of becoming and going and living....such an incredible life...so full of light...you could touch it - so ffull of joy it could explode and surge out of you almost healing the whole world...bringing forth a miracle...my life - yes
something like a miracle -
from the first breath until the last...
the road forks into a tradegy - you becoming a tragedy or the road less traveled - becoming a miracle...
a walking living breathing human being carry the weight of everything youve seen done and could ever be or do - connected to everyone you ever touched or that ever touched you - just spilling out something i think is love....
i dont recall what my first breath here was like actually...
i imagine it was a death of sorts for me...and being birthed immediatley sent me into a grief...and greiving - a sort of death--into a kind of death-like trance of life -
it would seem that being born would contain all the hope and inncence and promise of a beggining...a new beggining...birth - breath - alive a welcome...but no that is not in myh imaginings what ocurred...
I'll guess or dare to say...i didnt count on was the constriction - the vague remembrance of "home..." or the other side...the residue of leaving my beloved over "there" and falling into a state of speration and dis-unity if you will...
the thread...
and your situation...
the framework...seems to always be - the constant - suantering in the desert of boredom and wanting to finish...to go o n and transform back to pure dis-associated light - merge forever with the divine and forget all the lifetimes my soul has encountered...forget ever knowing all the loves and losses and becoming...the light forever as knowledge and love -- shinning to all - becoming all without any indication of being apart from that light....hence - the glass of water now dissolves into the vast grand ocean...the ocean of the cosmos...
they say its important to know your ending and my final ending --the ultimate ending will be that dissolution..
into the divine so complete i will not have the memories that i carry now - the burden of them how ever grand and pitiful and all encompassing ever now readying to be transpired - transmuted forever into love....
but my first breath and my last here - is only a breif span -- a short chapter-- as far I'am concerned in the history of my soul...
the desert of boredom - the nightime of melancholy-- creativity -- of starving - smoking - the ecstatsy and screaming pain of having a body to care for to feed to starve -- to bend -- or hold another...to gaze into eyes - timid or powerful and know things...the boredom of having seen done and heard it all yes even before i entered here - 1960
no that was my first breath...perhaps but not my genisis...not my original birht.....the boredom...the desert of inasnity....of wanting and wandering...
juxtaposed against the need to create - to tell - to do to work -- to savor and fear - fear all day long that you will never get it all in...never get the chance or will somehow lose your way here and your orignal purpose, miss the date that is your destiny here....
can you miss it ?
can you miss the people you want to know ?
or is the simple fact of your yearning for them the announcement that somehwere close -- there are around and all you have to do is call themm forth....
??
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
he barber shop the face of an old man -
one decrip and crumbling
green crumbing paint - and dank smell - the airvent wafting noises from outside...
this bottomless -- fathomless - canyon as deep as wide of wanting to be touched - wanting to touch or see a hard cock -
to hold one in my hand and suck it put my cheeck to it - wanting it up my ass...
the black bro finally comes into the booth and shuts the door -
the other wise - ancinet - like a buddha - the other like that of a mortal - ful of yellowish bile - about to ooze open...and spew out its fear and disease...
grabbing and raping and stealing your life essence....
the trolls
the porn-movie posters on the walls...torn ripped and wiped with lube...
the mirrors - like a psychotic sexual blue dream
red lust - the neon light bathed in wanting and need and memories -
all the pretty terrible sordid tranquil horrifying memories - of thoughts of bodies of light - of near death and darkness and missed tradgies and prayed for miracles are emmanating - out - like a song from my body but it is the bodies that I want and remember - the other bodies that my body remembers - and cant let go of - and or so it seems always wants another - wants more...my flesh - rotting and knowing it will come to an end someday - wanting to burn alive - in the constant flames of darkness within....the darkness of the world -
pain -- strange -
people are strange - when your a stranger...faces look ugly when your alone....
my feet touch the floor - there seems to be a light wamr breeze that touches - no graces my back...
perhaps my dick is half hard and i pull on it a few times...
the memories - the smiles that were evil
the friends that i lost - the life that melted away...
my father
my insane step-mother awash in her yellow house full of martinis and wanting...of constant movement and always "doing sonething..."
that everything seems like or is a competition...or a race
racing toward - your death yeah one minute at a time -
ending and exploding - and your dying and always doing something...
but never never getting anywhere - traveling the whole fucking world in prada and diamonds but really never going anywhere but nowhere...
internal movement....
the old greek guy who lives on my block - he looks as if he stinks...
i dont know him - he and i have never talked before - one day he just opens a small jewlery box in front of me and there is a medal inside - sterling - of a saint...the patron saint of artists - or so he says - he says that he wants me to have it - i stare forward and then down into his grey dehydrated hand - almost like a fake rubber it extends the gift -
I dont know what to say...i take it and bow my head and simoultaneusly push it into my pocket and move froward dwom the block -
screaming and red - and chest burning - because i catn seem to process the day - its begun 2-3-4-5 million miles and hour and my feet are still just touching the bedroom floor where i sleep for the first time this morning...actually afternoon...
pain...because - the dull - latent only once in a while pain reserved for -- right before i have to go out and just point blank suck some cock to even feel normal again - the thirst -- the feeding of this pain of -- "it"...
and it wants - it aches to be held and hidden but its always kinda there -
in sad songs and empty barrooms and aleeyways and rain soaked streets reflecting the neon on the porn shops on eighth aveneu...yes its always there - waiting for me -
is it me - is it you
is it everywhere - ??
yes it is everywhere...
>>>>>>>>>
returning....
i made the mistake of telling my doctor that i can control the weather once....
Comments