It found me again. That undeniable energy drawing purpose out of thin air. Continue reading Memphis Magic
Category Archives: Daily Life
High School Drama
This doesn’t feel done but I’m tired of looking at it… Continue reading High School Drama
Dry Spell
During a particularly grueling comedic open mic night last week I heard a fresh-faced 20-something start a set with, “Don’t you hate it when you run out of weed?”
The subsequent joke isn’t important because this alone made me and the person on my left simultaneously chuckle. Unprompted, my anonymous drinking buddy leans over and whispers, “How does someone manage to run out in this day and age?”
I let out another guffaw and nod emphatically. I don’t know his particular story but I can guarantee the comedian on stage has never experienced a true dry spell. Witnessing the war on drugs in my early teens, I’ve maintained a holistic approach to drug use since the 90s. Disinterested in needles or cocaine, I focus on botanical methods of relaxation. The benefit to this approach is the network stays mostly clean and, it seems, partially legal. The down side is managing to make the right connections. Fairly low on the totem pole back then, I still managed to score pot regularly. Just enough busting of mid-level dealers sometimes affected the supply chain but the only people that went completely dry were the endest of end users – mid-country suburbanites.
In Seattle in 2017, the premise of not having pot when you need it sounds completely canned. Delivered by a long-haired nouveau hipster in drop-crotch pants only makes it more overwhelmingly silly. On the bright side, this idiosyncrasy led to a bonding moment. With an actual human! Maybe I’m not as alone in this world as it feels. After all, we all mellow with age. For some, this means descending into a gelatinous mass of lipids and Netflix. Others embrace the new tempo as a more complex challenge. How to enjoy life in the face of entropy? Abandoned by the vigor of youth, I’m almost certain the answer lies in collaboration. Until then, at least we have plenty of weed.
Post-a-Ling-a-Ding
It’s been a while since publishing anything but trust me, there are half-woven stories strewn about my apartment.
I don’t have much to say about my own life except that it seems to be stabilizing. My font of creativity is still flowing and I’m mastering the bottling process one day at a time. I have an adolescent story line that develops muscle every time I put in work. Other thoughts are compiling into what I’m labeling Live Material for now. An inkling for morphing some writing into stage pieces is scratching at the back door of my brain.
All is well, to the extent it can be. I am plagued with thoughts of worthlessness and mediocrity but it hasn’t killed me yet!
Lone Wolfe
I’m pure grit in a world that worships cleanliness. An artist raised by pragmatists, I’ve felt out of place since puberty. My mind is logical the same way a fractal pattern is beautiful, there’s an organic root that starts the whole thing. I do very few things without a good reason. The longer I’ve lived, the better I am it. Aging like wine, hopefully I’m complex enough to stand the test of time. That doesn’t make the solitude easy. Those poor bottles of wine, alone in the chilly dark, waiting for an inconceivably grand event that might call for opening them. Valued for just sitting there, they never get a chance to fulfill potential glory. If lucky, good bottles are eventually consumed just so they won’t go to waste. Continue reading Lone Wolfe
I Wander
Does it help anyone, knowing how I feel? It doesn’t help to talk about it. If anything this echo chamber makes me feel worse. A reminder that no matter how loudly I scream, no one can hear me. I’m alone in this pain and destined to wander looking for reprieve. Convinced I’m defective, I’ve stopped talking to people in the real world about my feelings. Any inkling of my suicidal tendencies is greeted with talk of triggers and platitudes. As if I’m sharing these feelings for their benefit. All I want is someone that doesn’t find me abhorrent. Continue reading I Wander
Few Tile
I don’t like myself. I love who I am and believe I have an important role to play in this world. I just can’t stand to be alone anymore. The nagging desire to stop breathing coupled with guilt for feeling this way consumes most of my conscious hours. I compose chants about my worthlessness and mantras focused on getting by, one step at a time. Spurts of bravery and recklessness cause me to reach out either to existing acquaintances or new people. Success rates are low in both categories. Some individuals seem promising from time to time but most of them are lonely halves of a monogamous couple. Chatting with me must remind them what it’s like to be interesting. Continue reading Few Tile
Lucy In Demand
The people interested in my drugs aren’t subtle. Yet they put on a face, nonchalant as date rapists. I know the drill. Feed me the extent to which you don’t need what I have. Except, I’ve done this long enough to know what I have. I can prorate the mind expansion but only at my own discretion. I either get love or cash. My semi-libertarian upbringing doesn’t allow much wiggle room between the two. I don’t deal in things I can’t talk intelligently about. I’m fairly sure my great great grandfather was the same way when he negotiated for his land. I’m not ashamed of my past. I simply won’t rely on it. Continue reading Lucy In Demand
As soon as I met him I knew it would be terrible. A person so determinedly self-involved can’t help but hurt the people around him. I even set myself up by caring about his feelings and investing in his well-being. I spent energy trying to understand and empathize with his troubles, no matter how ridiculous. He fabricates stress from situations that he’s not involved in. Classic drama seeker, I thought I could stay separate from that aspect and still be his friend. It was working until I needed someone to lean on. The opportunity to dramatize presented itself and he ran with it. Standing firm in the assertion I’m better off alone, I am so goddamn alone. Continue reading