My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

So, I’ve decided that I should go away awhile. I won’t be Tweeting, or IMing, or Facebooking, it’s all stopped. I’ll still answer e-mail, and blog comments, and I’m going to try writing more, but all other digital communication is ceased. I really don’t know how long this will last, I suppose until I figure some things out.

So, last night was another open mic night at Cafe Bohemia. I, for whatever reason, picked out many of my more obscure pieces…

Drowned kittens

Happy and Sad

I wonder

Your daily suicides

You’re all

And he made a whisper out of you…

One passing dusk

Waking up someone who isn’t me

Let you in

I think people liked them, but I’m not sure. Listening to Jimmy (my open mic voice) read, I just started thinking about how so fucking weird I am. Then I started thinking about someone close to me, and wondering how all my weird looks in her eyes.

Last night was my very first open mic night. There’s this little cafe in down-town St. Petersburg, Cafe Bohemia, and every Thursday night is open mic night. They have a stage set up in this really pretty outdoor courtyard for poets and musicians to do their thing under the starry night sky. I found out about it totally by accident, but it was exactly the sort of thing I’d been wanting to find for so long, a place for creative types to just put there stuff out there for a live audience. Applause are different than blog comments. A silent audience says more than a post with no comments at all. So, there was one other writer, Jimmy, and a bunch of musicians, generally really good musicians. I picked out seven pieces of my flash fiction/poetry…

Suicide Party

Golems

Brown eyes, and a kiss

A beautiful fix

For her

The push

A nothing of a prayer

I just needed a voice for my words. Jimmy, being a writer and all, with his own poems to read later, he let me borrow his voice. He read my stuff well, and the audience responded the same. I got decent applause for each. I heard one fellow say of Golems, “That was was haunting.” It felt good to put my stuff right in front of people, scary and exciting, all at once. Some musicians played next, then Jimmy read his stuff, then more musicians played.   The place had such a good vibe, people having a really great time. I showed off some writing. Some friends were there, I talked to them. I met some new people. I stayed to close the place, and went home to nothing but my thoughts.

So, I’m going for my usual fresh trache. I’d like to write something compelling, or beautiful, or both, but I’m tired. If I go down, I’ll go down with things unsaid, unfinished, not done. Odds are, this won’t happen, I’ll come back to write more and do more, so I’m not particularly worried.

Things I have yet to write:

Tattoo #26: Stain

Tattoo #27: At night, wish the hardest

Tattoo #28: A black balloon

Stuff about a girl

An unfinished short story

Lots and lots of other thoughts…

If anything really spectacular comes to mind, I’ll have my computer while I’m waiting to visit the O.R.

This blog needs to be better, just like I need to be better.

So, Friday morning a few lines bounced into my head, they felt like the beginning of a short story. I don’t feel like a particularly good fiction writer, and lately not like much of a writer of anything, but I put down eighty-five words Friday afternoon, and they’ve turned into almost two-thousand. It’ll end up the longest fiction I’ve ever written, I’m just not sure when I’ll get to that end. It just keeps going.

I hope it doesn’t suck, but I don’t know. I mean, anything has the potential to suck, but we have to try anyway.

So, Monday evening I drank enough bourbon to kill a small pony, and had to visit the e.r. I’ve done similarly before, and I suppose those other times didn’t particularly affect me. I never really openly talk about these things, but this time is different. ترتيب البوكر Liquor’s been this really fun thing that various people have told me I “can’t” have, which is a lot of why I kept at it, and generally, aside from a few incidents over a few years, I’ve been fine. Still, before Monday I was thinking about giving it up, or really cutting back, or giving it up. I couldn’t decide. I just kept thinking that liquor hasn’t been fun for awhile. I mean, you feel great for two hours, everything’s all perfect, then you come down and feel like shit. I’d been hearing Kurt sing, “My heart is broke, but I have some glue. Help me inhale, mend it with you. We’ll float around, and hang out on clouds, then we’ll come down, and have a hangover…” Every time I drank something. جدول سباق الخيل It fit so perfectly. Drinking, quite often, was something I did  to turn off my head, to mask depression, or boredom, or both. I’d been thinking about that before I did what I did Monday, before I went and drank enough bourbon to kill a small pony.

I blacked out, woke up in the e.r. I woke up and thought, “Oh God, I fucked up.” It hit me just how stupid it was to wake up in that way. I finally thought about who I’d have hurt if I hadn’t managed to wake up. العاب كازينو مجاني I don’t want to hurt those people. I don’t want to hurt a pair of beautiful brown eyes that I love so much. I don’t want to hurt myself. So, I’m done with the drinking, because I genuinely want to be done with it. I tried it for long enough, it’s absolutely no fun anymore. There are definitely better ways to handle boredom and melancholy. I hit the bottom, I didn’t like it.

In my head, there had been three perfect zombie movies, 28 Days Later, Dawn of the Dead (2004) and Shaun of the Dead. After tonight, however, my list is up to four thanks to the surprising awesomeness of Zombieland. Zombieland tells the story of four survivors living in a world of blood-thirsty victims of a terrible virus, and falls into the genre of “horror comedy,” which always worries me a little. Bad horror can be really funny, but bad comedy is always just flat out bad. Fortunately, Zombieland does everything right. It’s stylishly violent, sometimes scary, but also very funny, and very warm.

To me, the great zombie movies aren’t really about zombies, they’ve about people, people facing the end and trying to cope with death that could happen at any moment. People don’t generally think of death as something that could happen tomorrow, or right now. People are almost child-like about death. Death is something that happens to other people, or when you’re “really old.” People stay in shit jobs, worry about schedules, have petty arguments over things that don’t matter, they don’t spend time enough with people they love, because there’s always time to live differently. Zombies strip away ridiculous constructs and the delusional idea that there’s always time to be happier or say to that someone who feels like home, “I love you.” Zombies are a death that everyone can see, and smell, they’re not a vague notion of something that will happen “eventually.” When death is banging bloody hands on the door, people get their priorities straight. Survival and being with those we care about, nothing else is important. Zombieland captures all of this with dark humor, bloody violence, and genuine tenderness.

If zombies showed up tomorrow, I know right where I’d want to be. Do you?

There’s this line from The Dark Knight, the Joker says, “I believe whatever doesn’t kill you simply makes you stranger.” I don’t really like the movie, but Heath Ledger’s Joker is a brilliant character. That particular line seems very true to me. Trauma leads to cracks that shape people differently. My blog documents my cracks, cracks that keep getting deeper. It documents me getting stranger, and getting better at writing about it. Still, I’m not broken, there’s still something left of me.

No, I can’t do what I said below, that’s just stupid . I might be a lot of really awful things, but I’m not stupid. I realized that I’d rather write until all four engines flame out than not. Even if everything I have to write is bad, that’s better than absolutely nothing. العاب اون لاين مجانا