Polaroid Snapshot Memory

January 30, 2012

Polaroid snapshot memory caresses me from the inside out. Transcending candles light my way to the past and the joy and freedom I was unaware of at the time. Bizarre incantations of what life is and could be. Pass by and die. Pass by and let the fate of the Deities decide or roll the dice or not.

 

Freedom’s just another word for everything ahead. Wasted youth having a great time. Love. Sex, drugs and rock n roll baby. I lived it and didn’t know I was living. Love was everywhere. Free love was dead but I re-animated it. Acid trips and connections to worlds I wish I could have stayed in. Money was nothing to me and I thought it was everything. Carry the plight of darkness on my shoulder with a wicked smile.

 

Aging. Losing. Gaining. Winning. At the same time in my mind. I created it and I had no control of the inevitable events that lead me to me and back around the block. A haircut and a shave and a shower cures the common ME. Cut snip CUT. Parties over and starts again. Imobile as I travel and dream of travel and you.

 

Bulbous characters running in and out of my entire life. I call it life today. Tomorrow? Fuck tomorrow. I’ve always hated tomorrow. Diseased decaying tomorrow. Yesterday is where it’s at. Live today like it was yesterday and I feel fine. Crimes committed without my knowledge and I weep for you. For me.

 

Granite accelerator in the fastest carpool lane of a Lynchian progression. Up down. Freeze.

 

Tag.

 

You’re fucking IT.


Not About Me?

August 10, 2011

I seem to write about the same thing when it comes to personal stuff. It’s either about my conditions, my personal life and me and me and me. That’s what I know about most. I feel the most. If you haven’t noticed or read anything I’ve written before you know that am extremely self-absorbed. Most of the time I don’t mind. I even like it. Sometimes I wonder if I could be different.

 

I stopped going to 12-step meetings 6 months or so ago. The one thing I forgot about was the contributions I should be making to others. Doing things for others. Then again did I ever help or do anything for anyone without seeking the rewards. Even if it was to avoid the feeling of guilt I rarely do things for people without secretly wanting something in return.

 

I found that the greatest feeling in the world is to give to someone freely with no expectations yet it has always been the last thing I think about doing. Interesting.

 

I’ve never considered myself a selfish person. I am very giving if I am asked. I don’t always think to offer. I know I’m not the most important person in the world and “it’s not about me” as I’ve been told over and over through my 19-year stint in the 12-step program. I’ll help you out if you ask most of the time.

 

Today was a test, learning experience and some fun rolled in there. I woke up late not feeling well mentally and physically. My face hurt. I was stressed over the usual things. I felt depressed. At one point I was ready to cry. Meanwhile I had a commitment to meet a friend of almost 20 years. Her and her husband and friend moved years ago to Texas and I see her once a year or every other year when she is in New Jersey to see her family. This was to be the first year her daughters came to meet “Uncle Fishbone” as they’ve heard me referred to for their 11 and 12 years. Fishbone is an old nickname that I only hear from my friend.

 

As the time for our meeting approached I felt more anxious and my face pain kept coming and going. I debated back and forth whether I was going to be able to make it or not. I was feeling depressed and agoraphobic. I took a shower and got ready to go to see if I would feel better. I felt worse. I waited to the last minute and finally gave up. I texted my friend and cancelled. She understood and was disappointed. I was disappointed also. I ran out of cigarettes and had to run to the store. As I was leaving the store I felt better. I had to see my friend. I changed my mind. I was feeling a little better. I texted my friend and asked if it was cool if I changed my mind. No response. I drove home and she called just as I pulled up to my house. She was still going to the diner and I was going to go. I went.

 

It was a fun time hanging out with an old friend and 2 pre-teens. Her daughters were a trip. They were funny and intelligent and I had a great time. My friend told me I seem like the same old Fishbone to her. For better or worse I took it as a compliment. I felt great and a great 2 hours. We even talked about how everyone thinks about themselves more than anyone else. Not just kids.

 

I came home and crashed hard. Between the anxiety and face pain earlier in the day and the excitement of socializing I fell asleep hard and fast. I woke up later in the night and stayed up all night. I woke up the next day feeling pretty good and productive.

 

I wish I could remember that it’s not all about me. For now, I’m going to keep writing about me.


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