Constant distraction
My HumCo (humboldt county) visits typified a certain style of life... a life-style, if you will... that has been my bread and butter for years if not decades. There are lapses in this method of habitation in which there are no leering threats, immediate dangers and herculean dangers and threats to overcome. These are the moments I feel uneasy. Right now, I have girlfriends who get along much better than I had ever anticipated, loving friends, a peachy job, a fabulous commercial space in which I can do just about anything, reasonably good health... and I am more worried than ever. I have a sense of foreboding that there is a large creature gnashing its teeth and slobbering over the notion of devouring me whole. There's no reason for this. I've achieved a whole lot of what I've previously described as goals and I feel morbidly obsessed with failure of some sort. WTF? Well, actually I know WTF, I need constant distraction, some sort of logical problem to occupy my brain so it doesn't worry about unrealistic dangers... which I suppose makes me thrust myself into homelessness and danger the moment I get stable enough to breath freely. Feh.
Aerie is moving to Seattle (after years of timidly wondering at the notion of living within the same state and the chaos that surely would ensue). This terrifies me (and her). But it seems to be the only option -- We will both die soon (probably at each others' hands) and should maximize our time on this little orb of a planet surrounded by each others' particular form of genius. So the big wager begins... will we be Anais Nin and Henry Miller... or Bukowski and Linda King... leading a torrid alcohol fueled constant bloody fight with scars and recriminations or creating works of art that will be life changing and inspiring for generations to come? I suppose there might be a middle ground, but we tend not to think of those when we're together.
A - "I know I'm not the only person that gets drunk and does crazy shit." Too true. But I think the crazy shit does help. D-day is going to be in May, and I can't wait for it. Like a prisoner sprinting toward the gallows knowing that either heaven or hell awaits but betting on heaven.
Hrm... too negative? I dunno. I am overjoyed and thrilled beyond anything I've had the pleasure of anticipating before, but we are both completely cynical and pessimistic beings, we've seen a great many opportunities wasted and destroyed, but this is different. It will be good, I know this, I'm just voicing (no, writing) my internal cynicism at the prospect of good things to come, as I always do.
Aerie is moving to Seattle (after years of timidly wondering at the notion of living within the same state and the chaos that surely would ensue). This terrifies me (and her). But it seems to be the only option -- We will both die soon (probably at each others' hands) and should maximize our time on this little orb of a planet surrounded by each others' particular form of genius. So the big wager begins... will we be Anais Nin and Henry Miller... or Bukowski and Linda King... leading a torrid alcohol fueled constant bloody fight with scars and recriminations or creating works of art that will be life changing and inspiring for generations to come? I suppose there might be a middle ground, but we tend not to think of those when we're together.
A - "I know I'm not the only person that gets drunk and does crazy shit." Too true. But I think the crazy shit does help. D-day is going to be in May, and I can't wait for it. Like a prisoner sprinting toward the gallows knowing that either heaven or hell awaits but betting on heaven.
Hrm... too negative? I dunno. I am overjoyed and thrilled beyond anything I've had the pleasure of anticipating before, but we are both completely cynical and pessimistic beings, we've seen a great many opportunities wasted and destroyed, but this is different. It will be good, I know this, I'm just voicing (no, writing) my internal cynicism at the prospect of good things to come, as I always do.