(no subject)
"If there must be trouble, let it be in my day, that my child may have peace."
In my life time I have had maybe four people who have understood me. I think I am lucky with that number. Many summers ago, it feels like a lifetime, Mike (one of those people) and I were sitting on his back deck drinking some seriously overpriced Mexican beer listerning to lazyboy talking about life. I spent the day working on Mike's house for beer, he spent the day at one of his jobs. Mike had three jobs. An automotive designer, a college instructor and a DJ at a bar.
During this conversation Mike said "the best thing for me, is to just keep busy, the best thing for guys like us is to keep busy". Mike has seen me at my worst, I mean haven't showered in two weeks, binge drinking and cranked to the max, crying at a coney island worst.
I think I always knew that was true because I only feel good when I'm busy. When I'm doing the work of five people. Maybe a part of me likes the test of my body or maybe the test of my will. I like being completely alone and working, building things that most people will never even notice. Here I am with my knee wrapped up with an ace bandage (I think I left my knee brace in storage) at 25.
I've spent six weeks idle. A week after nothing I started to have nightmares again. After a few weeks idle they became nightly. The past week they keep me from getting any real rest. Shawna is pissed or annoyed or something that I can't explain my nightmares. I can't explain them any better than I can't explain the joy I feel being busy figuring out problems.
I once, when I was young tried to tell my mother about my nightmares. She of course called them gifts. She told me about whispers from my elders. I thinks she's half nuts and I'm certain I have a form of bi polar disorder. At least that's what I have been told. The strange part though, is that my mother has been able to tell me brother's with in five days of every time they have been arrested.
I know that I don't have the ability or at least not the will to express them. During that time is when my journal goes silent. During those nights waking up feeling pure fear. I just don't know what to say.
In my life time I have had maybe four people who have understood me. I think I am lucky with that number. Many summers ago, it feels like a lifetime, Mike (one of those people) and I were sitting on his back deck drinking some seriously overpriced Mexican beer listerning to lazyboy talking about life. I spent the day working on Mike's house for beer, he spent the day at one of his jobs. Mike had three jobs. An automotive designer, a college instructor and a DJ at a bar.
During this conversation Mike said "the best thing for me, is to just keep busy, the best thing for guys like us is to keep busy". Mike has seen me at my worst, I mean haven't showered in two weeks, binge drinking and cranked to the max, crying at a coney island worst.
I think I always knew that was true because I only feel good when I'm busy. When I'm doing the work of five people. Maybe a part of me likes the test of my body or maybe the test of my will. I like being completely alone and working, building things that most people will never even notice. Here I am with my knee wrapped up with an ace bandage (I think I left my knee brace in storage) at 25.
I've spent six weeks idle. A week after nothing I started to have nightmares again. After a few weeks idle they became nightly. The past week they keep me from getting any real rest. Shawna is pissed or annoyed or something that I can't explain my nightmares. I can't explain them any better than I can't explain the joy I feel being busy figuring out problems.
I once, when I was young tried to tell my mother about my nightmares. She of course called them gifts. She told me about whispers from my elders. I thinks she's half nuts and I'm certain I have a form of bi polar disorder. At least that's what I have been told. The strange part though, is that my mother has been able to tell me brother's with in five days of every time they have been arrested.
I know that I don't have the ability or at least not the will to express them. During that time is when my journal goes silent. During those nights waking up feeling pure fear. I just don't know what to say.