Sunday, December 21, 2014

Though at first the uncertainty of my future scared the living daylights out of me, I am now exhilarated by not knowing what's to come. I never really knew anyway but now even the illusion of having some idea has been shattered.

I think I may go to France!

I really like my job and the opportunities it gives me to brighten people's days. For the first time I'm working and not staring at the clock the entire time waiting to be off.

I like the slow unfolding of the unknown however frustrating it can be at times

I am choosing to be empowered by this rather than dismantled. I'm giving everything space to breathe, including myself. I am getting out of the habit of feeling like I need to share things to validate them. There are too many potential connections out there to get hung up on the possible loss of one. Fuck it!

I'm not sure if I believe that the cosmos or planets have any direct effect on our states of mind but the fact that this is coinciding with the equinox is cool and metaphorically significant if nothing else.

All of the ideas I had about myself are changing. I feel limitless and here and now, finally growing roots deep within myself for the first time ever. I'm learning that everything passes however devastating it feels in the moment.... It just continues to shift and throw surprises at me and I'm excited to see what comes next even if I am scared at the same time.

Centrifugal force units pulling out my chest
nonsensical wordplay, way too close of a freeway
I'm hanging on surreal and banking on fiction,
extracting a mess of tongue-tied diction


Thursday, December 18, 2014


That is the lesson I keep learning over and over.

Saturday, December 13, 2014

I feel very absorbent, factual, modern, and literal lately. I am the left brain right now. Black and white. My gray is somewhere else. My creative flow is on a hiatus. I'm getting used to being a night owl again. I'm distract-able; all about numbers and calculating. I keep surprising myself with my interests lately. I feel out of character for a bit when I first change until I remember again that static character does not exist. My moods are always different. Every day is a different world. I think I am beginning to get the hang of the fact that all is ever changing instead of being disoriented by it. I will not create anxiety if I do not look for consistency where I won't find it.

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

I start these things never knowing how I am going to possibly describe what's in my head but here is my attempt at the description of an indescribable night. My friends and I were on our way to a little mini festival out in rural Nebraska. The rolling hills stretched around us, the weather was fucking perfect, the ideal Midwestern autumn. I took in everything around me as fully as I could, knowing I'd be leaving this part of the country very soon.

My 3 male friends all put tabs of acid on their tongue in the car on the way there, one of them even opted for 2. Being someone who enjoys being around tripping people as much as or more than tripping myself, I started getting excited to experience what their moods would be. We all passed around a giant mason jar of rum spiked coffee.

We got to the campsite and set up our tent and started drinking some beers. We set up a couple extra tents for our friends who would be joining us. It was late afternoon and the sun was golden and beautiful. We set up lawn chairs and all sat around talking and laughing with each other. We did some yoga.
My ex boyfriend showed up with his girlfriend and a couple other people. That had been a semi-awkward dynamic because her and I got along really well but he was uncomfortable with us being friends, so her and I didn't talk much at the beginning of the night, but as we all got more inebriated this changed. The very few times I've ever been around this woman I have been in awe of her in so many different ways. She is so intelligent, beautiful, talented as hell musically, and just all around awesome. I got a chance to get to know her better that night and even hear her sing some opera, and I'm very grateful for that. There was amazing music that night which included a funk band and a duo comprised of a drummer and a piano player that was surprisingly complex and lovely, but I spent a very small amount of time in the stage area and more time wandering around the farm and talking with my friends.

At one point me and 4 or 5 other friends were laying in a field talking about anal sex. I really enjoy asking people extremely personal questions, because how they respond tells a lot about them, not necessarily the specifics of their responses but the attitude in which they answer. Not surprisingly, all the people I was with answered frankly and without shame and we had a great conversation. Walking back to the campfire my ex's girlfriend I started talking about my ex and her current, and he happened to walk up to us at that very moment, pull me aside, and ask me to please stop paying so much attention to her because it was making him uncomfortable. This was one of those moments where I was extremely frustrated by the paradigm of what couples are and the unnecessary insecurity it tends to create, but I also felt really bad because I value his friendship a lot and didn't want him to feel bad.

He and I ended up talking it out and it was fine, and we proceeded to go listen to the music. It was about 1 or 2 in the morning and one of my friends asked me if I'd like to partake in some mushroom tea. This was a crazy idea since it was already late and I was already pretty fucked up but I decided why the hell not?
So my friend proceeded to prepare the mushroom tea as we sat in our lawn chairs around the little stove and bowl he had set up. The moonlight was so bright and it felt very ceremonial as we passed the metal bowl around and drank the tea.  A little later the music was all done and we sat around the giant campfire. The mushrooms started kicking in and people around me that I didn't know seemed a little eerie, but I had my best friend there and also a new friend who had hung with us that night who I was really coming to appreciate. I got to know him pretty well in front of that fire, and could see his open and cheerful spirit very clearly as we talked about various things and people and situations.

Reality got weird and the people around the campfire came and went and I was sitting many different places around the fire throughout the night but towards the end of the night I ended up sitting with a smaller group of people passing around a guitar, and they started playing Phish songs. I didn't know any of them but I felt amazing kinship through the music. I felt extremely grateful that I had been introduced to the amazingness that is Phish previously and could share a bond with complete strangers over it.

There was a moment when an old acquaintance of mine who I used to play music with walked up with his girlfriend and sat down next to me. I moved closer to share their blanket and ended up sitting pretty close to him. He put his hand on my knee and his girlfriend sat right there smiling and we all sang Phish songs. This was an immensely beautiful moment because it embodied my personal philosophy of love in its pure form.

Monday, December 8, 2014

Lately my life consists of working, and working, and working, and I'm really liking it. I always used to see work as an annoying necessity of life, but now that I have a specific goal in mind it's pretty satisfying. I sleep better (for both physical and mental reasons), worry less, and am, in general, immensely relieved.

My life is utter simplicity out here. I come to my job and I go home. I still do not have any friends in Arizona, and it gets a little lonely sometimes but for the most part I don't mind it. I don't know if I intend to make any friends here; probably not. The solitude is healthy and it's exactly what I need right now even if it can be trying at certain times when I really just want a hug from or a conversation with a like mind. It's giving me a chance to know myself better though, and I need that.

One of my favorite books talks about the importance of being connected with your inner body, and having deep roots within. This way emotions cannot take you on a wild ride and mess you up mentally... so I am trying to keep this in mind, especially during times of overwhelming curiosity about the future, physical and mental frustration, or anxiety. It is getting easier to stay aware even if it feels like I take steps backwards now and again. I have read somewhere that the higher you go, the harder you fall, and this helps to remember when I feel like I start fucking up in some area.

I've been playing guitar a lot again and getting back in touch with my musical side always feels amazing. The chord B9 is hard as hell and cramps my hand but it gets easier each time I play it. If all I accomplish while I'm here is paying off the lease I bailed on in Iowa, saving money, and getting better at guitar, I'll feel it was time well spent. Being here is an adventure, but more of an inward one.

Spending so much time alone has woken me up to how much anxiety I carry on a regular basis. It is something I am learning how to derail and redirect, and my general disposition is becoming pretty calm. I am loving the Phoenix winter. I'm at work right now and when I look out the window it's a pink sunset with palm trees out there.

I used to have all of these ideas about myself and my beliefs; spending time on appearance is superficial, popular music sucks, I don't believe in exclusive partnerships, I am more sexually attracted to females, I don't like big cities, I am not outgoing, etc. These are all being questioned, replaced, or put to the test. Life's surprises are infinite.

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Journal entry from 10-7

I'm exploring bodies and touch, mistaking that for a road map that leads to my soul.
When all is said and done, I know what the inside of your mouth tastes like but still lack knowledge of my spirit's flavor. Yes I'm fulfilling my base desires, but they are just that; base. Fun, sexy, and mostly empty.
I find myself longing for a connection where we understand one another without explanation but what that desire really is, is a manifestation of my neglect to know myself that way.

Creating is what makes me sane and makes me me and helps me breathe.
-Writing is my lifeboat.
-Singing is my soul in sound.
-Painting is my flowing id.
-The hoop is my centering motion

Get over your fear of self love, even if you have to do that by telling yourself it will help you love others better and more genuinely. I have so many overwhelming feelings, but that is why I'm an artist in so many senses of the word. The trick is to learn how to channel all of that energy into a focal point... otherwise train wrecks shall ensue.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014


I withheld the fact that I left my body when we finally released that tension. Every cell sung electric and my mind was gone; not just quiet but not there at all. I was enveloped in the void, free of my flesh through union of flesh.

Monday, November 10, 2014

Nov 10

Starting November 6th I'm not supposed to drink or smoke tobacco for one week (because of dental work). This has been awesome and purifying, even though I've already wanted to break it more than once. It sounds less appealing as time goes on. I am cleansing my body and mind and I can already feel the difference in my mental state and ability to sit still without succumbing to the impulse of my mind latching onto things.

In September I took a huge leap that I was terrified of, but felt was necessary in the deepest part of me, and things have been aligning more perfectly than I could ever intentionally orchestrate since the moment I got on that bus.

I am learning to let the universe flow through me uninhibited. Sometimes I get anxious or scared but I am mostly just too fucking excited about life to get caught up on worries. I am blessed and blissed. The more I reflect on events, emotions, people, etc, the more I see the yin and yang of pleasure and pain, and the less I want to strive for one and avoid the other. It makes no sense to cling to certain emotional states, and I think I'm finally realizing that on a fundamental, experiential level, rather than just philosophically. The more I watch myself, the more I see this as true.

Last night I heard this idea that 2 people trying to love each other who have not learned to love themselves is like 2 beggars begging from each other. This really hit me. I see now, more than ever, the importance of knowing myself inside out. This, in combination with trying to keep the void in mind, is conscious work, and I am loving the intensity.



Listening to:

Saturday, November 8, 2014

I had dental surgery 2 days ago, and they prescribed me opiates. The day before the surgery I was 10 months clean off opiates.

I decided that it was okay and I could handle it even though I had had problems (to put it mildly) with them in the past. I still don't know if this was my fear of physical pain or some dormant junkie tendencies talking, or maybe (likely) a mix of both.

What happened was they prescribed me 20 pills and I was supposed to take one every 6 hours but I ended up taking 10 the first day and the other 10 the second day. Today is the third day. It's almost shameful to admit these things, but it's really not. My brain feels slightly fuzzy today, but I'm not crushed or craving.

While on those pills I did not feel any happiness that surpassed my normal sober level of happiness. It used to be that they created happiness within me, and allowed me to experience peace. This is not the case anymore. They made me irritable, and itchy, and hot. They made it hard to think clearly and even to fully enjoy something great that happened yesterday, yet I still compulsively took them and obsessed about them. I think I used to enjoy them so much because I was always in pain before and they numbed me and made everything hurt less. Now I enjoy existence for the most part and being disconnected from my innate sensitivity towards it was not enjoyable at all.

I feel like I've outgrown the mentality that something like that could bring me anything worthwhile, yet I still found myself going through the familiar motions of an addict. Addiction makes no sense whatsoever.

It's actually kind of scary to think about. Scary, ridiculous, and absurd. I don't know what I needed to prove to myself, or what the point of that was. I feel glad that that experience didn't fuck my entire world up and make me want to spiral back down into oblivion (maybe knowing I don't have that option/connections for the drug helps too). I feel confused that it happened at all, but mostly I just feel neutral and will continue living. I still know what I want, I still mostly know who I am and where I'm going and I'm excited for the future.

Still focusing on enjoying each step, feeling, passion, without necessarily needing to act on or express all of them to people.

Things I'm addicted to now:
Sweet potatoes
The yoga moon salutation
Pictures of sloths
Loving people

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

I interviewed a woman who is terminally ill. ‘So,’ I tried to delicately ask, ‘What is it like to wake up every morning and know that you are dying?’ ‘Well,’ she responded, ‘What is it like to wake up every morning and pretend that you are not?’

Friday, October 31, 2014


I have a less than glamorous job right now (arguably one of the worst) but future plans are keeping me motivated and it's helping me learn to make a fun game out of tedious things. It's a good opportunity to learn to maintain peace of mind and optimism in any situation. I don't have any in person friends where I live but I am not here to make friends.

I am learning to enjoy my aloneness. I am getting extremely patient; balancing that and excitement for what's to come. I am learning to live simply and appreciate the little things that I never bothered to notice before. I am learning to accept anxiety and let it pass through me rather than cling to it and let it shake me up.

Listening to music from older times helps to remind me of the impermanence of everything. This job, this dwelling place, the desert. Everything! My body is decaying as I type and that exhilarates me beyond description.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

thoughts of tonight

I'm riding a wave of lust, impatient yet content
Keeping the horizon in mind, while remembering to relish the steps

Loving minds and appreciating anatomy, and that is enough
Being afraid yet brave enough to sit with that fear, following it to see where it goes

Jumping from one thing to another just means that you'll want to jump again
Throw yourself deeply into each part of the process so you feel the next one fully

Allowing shadows to dissipate on their own instead of solidifying them with my anxiety
Letting things happen. Being patient. Breathing, breathing, breathing.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

sensitivity among the emotionally boisterous

I am a pretty sensitive human, and have always been this way. It is something that used to confuse me, then it frustrated and saddened me, now I am just grateful. One of the things that's been hardest about being sensitive is soaking up other people's moods.

Up until this past year or two, my entire disposition often got shaken up or even shattered by close contact with (or even close observation of) someone in the throes of extreme sadness, anxiety, or anger. I could physically feel the emotion seeping into me and I'd soon be an anxious wreck myself.

I could be on cloud nine, in my room journaling about how beautiful existence is, come out of my room to hang out with my roommate, hear him complain about life and say he hates people, and be sad for the rest of the night. In other words, I was impressionable to a fault.

To feel the emotions of others this deeply has always made me highly empathetic, but being like this was frustrating because it made me feel like I was at the whim of whatever my environment decided to spring upon me. It made me hate social functions where I knew there would be unfamiliar people with unpredictable moods or dispositions. In fact I was terrified of that.

I didn't really notice when this started to change, but upon the recent exchange of e-mails between a friend and I where we discussed being sensitive, I realized that I am no longer like this. I am still extremely sensitive, but the way I viewed human beings, emotions, and interactions back then is completely different.

The way I see it now is with fascination.
Each being is an island; a completely different universe that they shape with their attitude and mood. Watching the way individuals choose to interact with their environment is no longer a cause for alarm, but a cause for interest, and I claim no responsibility or even affiliation with the way others choose to go about it. I feel more as though I'm observing scientific phenomena than a stressful situation that should be remedied.

There are endless varieties of ways that humans interact with their surroundings, and even the "type"s that seem similar have their own subtle variations.
Comparatively, it's a detached way of viewing my fellow beings, but it's the way I've figured out how to maintain my own peace of mind among previously unsettling situations.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

day one in phoenix

Could I handle my own mirror image? So far it's been like staring into a very bright light. Consistent exposure may be like direct sunbeams hitting my eyes and result in blindness or at the very least, over-stimulation. The mere thought of consistent exposure makes me feel like I may split into pieces.

I marvel at and crave being understood; at the ability to bare my soul without fear or shame because I know the ears upon which it falls already know, already get it, have already been there. I want to hear all your stories.

Is this just a way of striving to confirm my own existence? What is my motive here? Sometimes I struggle to comprehend it and at other times I just ride the wave and marvel at the experience, the magnet, the synchronicity. You. Show me your voice. What is deepest within you? I will sit in awe even at clumsy misrepresentations of this. Maybe it is completely selfish, maybe I do think too much, maybe I don't need to figure this out in any way but by letting it unfold naturally, however much I might prefer to let it enfold me like an all encompassing wave.

Blank canvas

I'm starting life over today. I have very few possessions. It took me 4 years to build up the friend group I have in the Midwest and that is soon to be behind me, replaced by purple mountains, dry air and cacti. It's nice to know I always have a base here when I need it. I think I'll come back and stay a month or two this Spring on my way to wherever I go next. I never know where that will be and that's exciting as hell.

My friends want me to write about my experiences; I think I can manage that.

Flying alone is nerve wracking but I don't think I'll have to do it again for at least 6 months.

I do not have a significant other that wants me to live a certain way, I answer to myself and it's long overdue. That means that I have no excuse not to do things. I will fucking travel and I'm not afraid to go alone anymore if that's how things go.

I read over my old blog entries recently and was amused because I always felt there was a message I needed to convey, now I don't give a fuck. The older I get, the less I care about the appearance of things and the less apologetic I feel about expressing things.

I have a good many things to be grateful for: A place to start over, multiple awesome internet/pen pals, something to write from, a voice to convey ideas with.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Incipient death
Impending demise
Imminent decay
Approaching end
Looming departure

Focusing on it makes life so sweet.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

10-18 thought

I have so much love for so many people that I almost cannot stand it sometimes!!! I literally feel like there's so much I cannot contain it. This is a good problem to have; I'm thankful for it and existence.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

sept 24

I'm so excited to be finally writing my book!! I think Omaha is the perfect place to be for it because it's way easier to tap into the memories of what transpired here when I am in the same area of town that I was when it all happened. It feels good to know that I'm ready to write my story, because the only way I can stand to admit all that stuff is knowing that I am no longer that person. And it also means that I care more what I think about myself than what others think. Before, I would have been too afraid that people will hate me when they hear about my past, now I love myself enough to know they won't, and even if people did, I'd still be alright. There's a girl coming over tonight to paint and play music with me, who used to hate me, for good reason. She's awesome, so that will be cool.

It's been interesting being back here, I love all of my friends.

The other night in the room I'm currently occupying I had a strange experience. I sleep on the floor in there. I fell asleep on my side, facing the wall, and at some unknown point in the night I opened my eyes and felt a presence behind my back, and I felt a sensation like someone putting their hand on my upper back. I started to look over and saw a glowing figure kneeling beside my body. It was yellow and gold and orange and swirling, with a human looking form and a bald head. I got extremely scared and turned back to the wall, heart pounding, and tried to calm myself down and tell myself it was not necessarily a negative thing. I could still feel a presence when I fell back asleep. I don't know if I was awake or dreaming when that happened.

Monday, September 22, 2014

a beginning.

Right now my life consists of nothing but free time. I have internet access again which means I'll hopefully be writing more. My life completely changed in one day, on my 25th birthday 3 days ago. I now live somewhere different and have a lot less belongings. My future is completely open. I am savoring the freedom and even the loneliness. I am back where I used to live with friends I love, re-evaluating life and where I want it to take me. This is a pause; a hiatus.

I am certain of a few things. Spending time with loved ones is absolutely necessary, I am still in route(however slow) to Northern California, and I want to travel before I settle down, sign a lease, or figure out any type of permanent life path. These are my ultimate truths of the moment.
It feels good to be able to know that I can do whatever I want and don't have to consult someone else or worry about their reaction to my decisions or feelings. Clinging out of fear is no way to live, and being alone is not a bad thing. Although I see traces of my tendencies to bury any uncomfortable emotions in drugs or distraction, I'm not afraid that I will succumb to those urges. All they are is residue of old habits, and they are not even a large percent of me anymore. I am not living a lie every day which makes me feel less addicted to everything. I'm not trying to fill a void or ignore feelings. I can just breathe and live and know that where I am(in this body, this apartment, this phase) is temporary, and everything is possible.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

the week before Phoenix

I can usually sense a calm before a storm, like I'm riding the pre-cusp of change but know no specifics yet. I can feel huge shifts approaching. My stomach is in knots and I'm trying not to think too much about it. Reading and writing are my life lately, along with finally really dedicating myself to learning a foreign language. I stay motivated by watching french films and appreciating the beauty of the language.

The key to staying sane and focused is not to get caught up in looking too far ahead, even though I feel radical things coming soon and it's easy to wonder and attempt to analyze and get completely caught up in deciphering impossible symbols.
This is almost an art; it is striking a delicate balance. I'm finally learning patience after 10 years of embracing immediate gratification in every possible form. I am finally writing the autobiography that has been forming in my subconscious and it feels cathartic and inevitable.

For once I don't need to do anything about some feelings I have for a friend. Before, I would have recklessly pursued it in whatever way my impulses at the moment wanted me to... likely immaturely and thoughtlessly. I have felt this way for a while, but I am just now deciding not to pretend I don't or try to manipulate myself out of it. That never worked anyway, it would always come out in dreams. Instead I am letting it be there and accepting it and whatever may or may not come from it. Almost a year late but at least I'm finally dealing with it.

I am staying conscious instead of drunk or hungover or craving alcohol and this is bringing about many other realizations that were previously covered up by that cycle. I think I put off sobriety for so long because I knew it would bring an end to many illusions and I wasn't sure if I could handle that yet.

Once you shine the light of consciousness onto one area of life, it bleeds over into other realms. This honesty can be uncomfortable if you're not ready for it, almost like looking directly into the sun, but I think I'm ready.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Short story

"Alright, I think it's been 8 hours". I said from the front seat of my old Volvo wagon."I'm getting pretty tired myself", replied Garrett, my lifelong friend and yearlong band mate. "Let's stop at one of these inns up the road, do you guys have cash to split the bill?"

Our bassist Jerry grunted in affirmation, aroused from his backseat doze. A short wait under the motel awning later, we were carrying our bags in, string instruments included to avoid damage from the elements. I mentally saluted my uncle for instilling that piece of wisdom in my mind. He also instilled some basic working knowledge of guitar in me, but I still had so much to learn and moved at a slower pace than other musicians. Had I not been the one who actually bothered scheduling practices and seeking out gigs, I doubt my two friends would have been in a band with me. I threw my guitar on one of the beds, trying to shake off this insecure bit of hopefully bullshit.

"God Damnit!" exclaimed Jerry, shaking me out of my reverie. Apparently the two of them had flipped a coin for the cot and he'd come out the loser. "In your face!" cried Garrett gleefully, falling into a backward sprawl on the bed next to mine. Jerry sat on the cot, the center of it sagging unpleasantly and emmitting a faint screech. "How do you guys think the show went tonight?" he asked. Out loud, we all agreed that it went well, inside I had my doubts.

"You sounded really good tonight Jack, your solos are really starting to pick up", said Jerry, who could play circles around me. I knew they only played with me because we were all best friends.
"Yeah..." I said, "what is that door to? Is this one of those adjoining rooms?" I asked them, seizing the first opportunity to change the subject.

"It's gotta be, they wouldn't put a latch on a closet" Garrett said, standing up and walking over to the door, "but they'd have this locked since we only rented a single room." He reached out to open the door and suddenly, for no logical reason whatsoever, I really didn't want him to touch that doorknob. He turned it and to all of our shared surprise, the door opened. It was dark in there but he stepped in and turned the light on, walking inside and exploring. A couple moments later he walked out, looking bewildered. "Guys? I don't think we should stay in this room."

"Why?" Jerry and I simultaneously inquired.
Garrett shut the adjoining door behind him, "Um... It smells like mothballs, and they don't serve hot breakfast, let's stay at that motel across the street instead."
Having known Garrett for roughly 12 years, I could immediately sense his reaching fabrication. Jerry hadn't known him as long and hadn't seen his face when he'd emerged from that door, and dropped the subject easily, with a simple. "I'm not moving." For all his initial frustration at being stuck with it at first, he seemed to have gotten used to the rusty little cot in the corner, stretching across it contentedly.

Garrett sighed and went to sit on his bed. I said nothing but had been struck with curiosity.
All of us appeared to slip into his own world of contemplation(and likely exhaustion as well given the length of this godforsaken drive) and said nothing for a stretch of time. I did, however, catch Garrett sneaking glances at the closed door next to me. He clicked the TV on and they both started snoring not so long after. Garrett must have left the light on in the adjoining room on since there was a bar of yellow luminescence underneath the door.

I had been dying to get a good look around that room since my friend's strange reaction to it, and decided now was the time.
I stood up and opened the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. There was nothing astounding about this room at first glance, but I did notice pretty quickly that the furniture looked different than what was in our room or even in most hotels or motels. It looked old, for one, retro in a sense, more like something you'd see in someone's private study than a motel. There was a lamp in the corner, lit by an actual flame and wick dipped in oil. I had time to register some confusion at the fact that Garrett had stood in the doorway and seemed to flick a light switch on when he had peeked in earlier, when I noticed that something else was off.

This room was what my mom would likely describe as "quaint", and charming it was, but something was just fucking weird. My body noticed this as well; every hair was standing at attention while my stomach was turning slow somersaults.
I walked over to a plush and welcoming recliner across the room as if hypnotized. The strangest part of this all is that my memory of the room ends here, and I was closing the door behind me as I came to. I still had that strange sense of foreboding and mystery as I made my way over to my bed.

I saw my guitar leaning up against the bed and reached for it, unzipping it in a mesmerized state of numbness. I began to play and noticed a sense of ease and flow, the likes of which I had never encountered previously. I did not even bother to notice that my two friends were sleeping but they soon woke up and reminded me. Instead of being angry(like Jerry probably would usually have been) they seemed entranced, sittring on the floor in front of me with mouths hanging open.

I am a mediocre guitarist. I have written no original songs since I started, and what takes others less than an hour to learn, takes me multiple days. But I had just played something I had never heard played before that had to be uniquely mine. I knew that this sudden breakthrough of genius creativity had to be something related to that crazy little alternate universe of a room, but my band mates did not, and had no reason to suspect it. I decided to pretend that nothing unusual had just happened, and convinced myself of the same, though part of me was feeling a bit scared. Something was very wrong with the vibe of that room, but at this moment of musical accomplishment, the details really didn't bother me. I suddenly had very optimistic hopes for my future as a musician.

My band mates and I left the hotel the next morning, those two still in awe at my sudden musical prowess. They were too polite to say anything outright but I think they both assumed that I had finally hit my stride.

We went on to play much bigger shows, and soon I stopped being as interested in playing with them. They simply could not keep up, and I got bored. I craved fame and fortune. I joined another band that sold out large venues, always receiving high praise for my playing, and soon got bored of that too.
I figured it might be time to move up a little more, desiring to kill my chronic boredom and disenchantment, and made the decision to seek out that motel my old band mates and I had found a while back.

"If I can become an even greater musician, I won't get bored anymore. How could I?" I reasoned.

I pulled under the slightly familiar awning of the motel and got out. I requested room 212 to the desk clerk. She seemed slightly startled but not interested enough to ask questions, and gave me a key. I mentally thanked fate for allowing that room to be open, and assumed this to be my destiny.

I walked in and felt my stomach drop slightly. Not wasting any time, I turned to the door. As the doorknob rotated easily in my hand, I wondered why this door was never locked. I stepped in and flicked the light switch, this time not caring how a switch could light an oil lamp. I had a one track mind at that moment, set on musical perfection and glory, and as the result of that, satisfaction.

The same creepy unreal sensation stole over my body as I looked at the room. This was some secret gold mine of genius that I had unearthed, and I was damn proud of that. Why had Garrett seemed so turned off after stepping in here?
I felt giddy and disoriented, so excited that I was nearly breathless.
Moments flashed before my eyes. Practices with Jerry and Garrett, watching one of them play their instrument with fluent ease while I burned inside with jealousy, my uncle repeating for the 5th or 6th time a chord progression he had been trying to show me and me raging at my own incompetence. Hitting a wrong note when attempting a cover song at the high school talent show. In essence, sucking, and never being good enough.

Whatever this chair in the corner had given me before, I needed it. All of my experiences of humiliation and inferiority, I deserved it. I ignored the slight pangs of guilt and nostalgia stirred up by my thoughts of Jerry and Garrett and went for the chair. Greatness, I thought, doesn't need guilt and excuses. I deserve this, I told myself again.

I made my way to the chair and sat down. I waited, and waited... the bad and wrong feeling I felt slightly increasing moment to moment. When I eventually became so nervous that i could no longer sit in this room, I made to stand up out of the chair, and it seemed to be stuck to my body.

Struck with panic, I grasped the arms of the recliner and pushed up with all my might. I managed to get out of it, but not without a sensation of the chair attempting to suck me back down.

Once blessedly standing again, I started to make a run for it, only to notice the floor beneath my feet starting to produce a suction effect that made it harder to move. Somehow I made it to the door and the knob melted off in my hand, as the carpet pulled me ever downward like some demonic household quicksand.

My last conscious thoughts before being completely enveloped in this mad defiance of sanity forever were about the pure and simple joys of creating with friends, not worrying about who was more skilled than who, but only enjoying the experience.

Friday, September 5, 2014


I don't think all dreams are worth recording or bothering to interpret, but I just woke up from one that is significant and revealing. I was playing a game with 3 friends but paying particular attention to one, at least inwardly, who I feel more kinship with than most others.
At some point during or after the game he started discussing a personal goal in a project concerning environmental science or biology, and suddenly we were at the site of the project, outside near a forested area with trails and a good amount of people. I followed him around as he spoke with fellow project members about it, ignoring me all the while. I listened as he was told that he did something wrong and was kicked off the team. He was hurt and disappointed, and I wanted him to turn to me for help or comfort but he didn't.
Frustrated that I could not be a source of support, I started wandering down a path with patches of thick dark forested areas that became more and more frequent. There were people walking up ahead of, as well as behind me, but I knew none of them and was afraid of the approaching darkness. I turned back and couldn't find my friend; he had left me there. While walking off the site I passed some bleachers filled with old high school classmates(acquaintances rather than friends) posing for a photo of some kind. I kept walking.

Sunday, May 18, 2014

4:03am night audit

On the midnight drive to work,
I noticed that the streetlights are jealous of the moon's orange glow.
it stopped me in my mental tracks, froze me with its presence as it always does

My caffeine come down crisscrossed Midwestern time zones in an empty lobby.
exhaustion and laundry went hand in hand,
along with overflowing decaf and mopping up grounds

the missing wallet and its lookalike in a convenience store parking lot
were overseen by someone who wanted to ignore

he sat idling and I drove away wondering.

I see a beach ball floating in a pool on black and white film,
this sounds like some crazy surreal dream but it is cold hard fact, I'm looking at it now.

my lover searched for a missing dog and said her name on the phone
at the very moment I saw that same name on an envelope taped to the desk beside me
what is reality and how do these things align?
is this a poem or just a description of my strange strange night
I can't even tell if this makes sense or if its in the right tense(s)

Sunday, May 11, 2014

crazy experience.

I have(or had) this really interesting friend named S. He talks about off the wall things, he tries to burst clouds with his mind, he shoots energy out of his fingers at you to attempt to make you do small things like close your hand into a fist, and succeeds.

One day he was confiding in me about a terrible experience that had all of his friends on guard about him. Him and some friends all took some lsd at an apartment. He only had one hit and a reasonably high tolerance, being a seasoned pro at psychedelic substances.
What happened was he started feeling taken over by something, something in his stomach trying to force its way out was the way he described it. He blacked out and came to some hours later to all of his friends completely terrified of him. A female friend of his that he describes as very tough was scared of him. They described the evening to him and said he started going crazy, trying to hurt and attack everyone there. One of his friends had to hit him over the head with a pool ball. They all had to hold him down. He woke up having zero recollection of the night's events.

He was in an extremely dark place after all of this happened, thinking he may have lost his friends and essentially saying he feels a dark energy clinging to him ever since.

I am very open to any possibility of energies, spirits, and what have you. Pretty much I think anything is possible, yet I make no assumptions.

A few nights later I was at a house with a group of friends and a really friendly dog that was playing with everyone there. There was a knock on the door and S came in, and the dog immediately started growling and barking, seeming torn between attacking S and running away from him. The dog was so distraught that everyone in the room froze, aware of the tension and awkwardness in the room. S kneeled down to talk to the dog saying "it's me Enzo, come on, you know me, what's wrong buddy?"

What the hell was that?

Saturday, May 10, 2014

a post

Sometimes I feel like I just need to write. Oftentimes, I don't know why or what it is that needs to be expressed. The beauty is, it always seems to find its own way out if I can get myself to start typing. It's as if I'm coaxing words out of some hidden recess within me. I moved somewhere new 3 months ago. I am now settling into a routine which will include a couple of overnight shifts a week for a little while longer. Something is eerie about the early morning hours. It's a lonely feeling but not necessarily a bad one.
There are some people that cross my mind a lot. I want to ask them question after question but something keeps me from doing this. I don't know what I'm afraid of.
Life is strange, I will be 25 before I know it and I still often forget that this is it. I have found things that reminded me of that that I tried to hold onto but my interest is something that has always had an unpredictable ebb and flow. My mind is a multi-faceted sieve and I don't always seem to have a choice in what stays or goes.

Thursday, May 8, 2014

purge 1

I've heard writers give those who want to write the advice that they should "write what they know". Well I know a lot about drug addiction and the incredibly varied emotional states it can bring (Often with nauseating suddenness). When I'm having trouble falling asleep at night, it's because I get stuck on memories that keep recurring. This doesn't happen every night but it's happened often enough to the point of knowing I should probably exorcise these memories somehow. Growing up in the age of widely available internet(even to 11 year old kids such as I was when I first started using it regularly), I find that I'm able to let my thoughts flow more freely in type form rather than with pen and paper.

Lately I go to shows or to hang out with friends or play music with them or watch them play music and sometimes I'll notice the dilated pupils, the gyrating jaws, the inability to finish a sentence without getting too excited about a new idea and starting another one in the middle. Sometimes watching this action happen fills me with an intense yet usually brief longing. More and more, I find myself being appalled at the fact that I ever looked that way, perhaps jealous of the high they were feeling but not at all envious of the empty feeling that would follow the day after... but I suspect that the feeling of longing will always be there, if only just a little bit. Yeah, I used to display extremely addictive behavior with mdma. From the first few times I ever tried it(letting the fact that I couldn't find any more soon after ruin my entire night and mood), to the extreme some 5+ years later of dishing it out of baggies to my friends and always doing most of it myself. I did at least 10 points in one night more than a couple times.

The lowest points were always when everyone else had come down and gone to bed and I found myself with the sun coming up, the inability to unclench my muscles, sometimes still full on in the throes of the high, sometimes taking more if I had any left, until it was completely gone. If I was lucky I'd have some kind of sedative pill to knock me out so I wouldn't have the spend the next 24 hours tossing and turning in bed, sweating, muscles twitching and mind going 123094 miles a minute, just letting the after effects run their course so I could enjoy normal human functions like eating and sleeping. Sometimes I'd just have to wait it out. On those long lonnnnnnng nights or mornings, I'd ask myself why why why I kept poisoning my body like this, I'd feel so sorry for my poor body who had done nothing but try to exist and function normally while my ungrateful self just kept dumping chemicals into it.

I went to see a show with my boyfriend during this same time period. It was when we still both wanted to recreationally use that stuff sometimes. We got a couple capsules each and of course mine were gone quicker. Sometimes when this would happen I'd get him to share the rest of his, sometimes I'd immediately set my mind to getting drunk. Most of the time I'd immediately start scheming on how to get my hands on more. This time, while the music was going I texted a friend who lived up the block and sold the stuff, I was thinking I could slip out of the bar, run to his house to get more and be back before Luke could know the difference. After I had texted the friend and he had OKed me coming by, I noticed I had forgotten my wallet at home(probably the fault of my earlier-in-the-night-and-more-sensible-self who didn't want me to blow all my money on more drugs just as I was trying to do) but decided to run there anyway and see if he'd front it to me. He did of course but as I was saying goodbye my phone started ringing and it was Luke. He called over and over and I just ran back, he was already in the parking lot waiting and knew exactly what I had gone to do. He was yelling that it's never enough for me, I always need more, and I was petulant, knowing he was right and slightly disturbed by it but more overwhelmingly unconcerned since I had my hand on the baggie in my pocket. The world could have been falling apart around me and if I had some of that stuff or my favorite pills in my pocket I could still feel a sense of serenity and only be vaguely annoyed at what I thought of as his dramatic and square-ish reactions. If I was out of the stuff however, I had no choice but to hear what he was saying with full force and absolutely hate myself. It forced me back to earth.
We had a huge fight that night, one of the many that tore me in two and made me feel as if I had to choose between my freedom and identity(so intertwined with my drug use that I felt a part of or all of me would die if I stopped) and my relationship. He drove me back to his place where my car was and I got in it and started driving home. He followed.  I lied and said that I threw the bag out the window, when in reality I had swallowed the whole thing at once. We got back to my place and he was so stress-riddled and exhausted he went to fall asleep in the back room. I, on the other hand had just ingested half a G of(what I hoped was mostly) molly and was feeling social as hell. I invited a few friends over. We painted a collaborative piece and I got to know these people(one of which would become an awesome friend). Of course I outlasted them and they started getting tired so I was left to be awake in my living room. Luke got up and went home, I rode out my high as long as I could, started a painting, read some Alan Watts, and took some Xanax at about 9am so I could pass out. This memory blends together with so many other similar ones like it, one variation was me meeting one of my neighbor ladies and buying a cocktail of pills to help me pass out and feel less bad when I woke up, one variation is me going to Luke's soon after getting up and spending the come down in his bed in the dark basement while he went record shopping and enjoyed the sunshine.
Talking about these things makes me feel ill but lately sometimes I feel extremely unhappy and the more of this I get out of my system, the more I feel that I am releasing some guilt that has been acting on me like a slow poison. I haven't been able to figure out what my sense of unease has been coming from but that may be playing a part. This is one in hundreds of memories that make me feel sick to my stomach and I already feel lighter.