good morning my love.
13 years ago I made a decision. Besides the occasional social beer or two I have been booze free. I am not an alcoholic, tip toed on the edge of it for years but never fell.
been falling a lot lately. failing falling tripping fucking up and burning bridges
that guy from back then was able to thread the words into a semblance of reality. the one now is curled in a ball from the onslaught. he is too kind and wants to be happy
the old me never was concerned with any thing but getting fucked up and laughing. the occasional fight. he was able to control the speed of the descent by lashing out
the current model has found the storm of feelings and dives head first while he searches for something that doesn’t exist any longer. love and a place to fit in. he wants to use the words to make others feel better
he is a stupid fucking cunt that mopes around. I have begun to hate him and his optimism.
the empty bottle of whiskey this morning tells me I made a choice last night.
the last couple of weeks have clearly been shit. Besides the concert with Kyle and dinner with Bill last night, it has been me fighting with my self on where I am headed.
Side Effects by the Bronx is my new theme
‘I can’t feel nothing no more, so that must mean you’re cured. Can’t tell the roof from the floor. As I fall asleep tonight I will dream in black and white. If I wake up tomorrow will someone just let me know. Side Effects.’
is this a plea for help?
it might be. I don’t know, self destruction has always felt like a comfy hoodie to me.
I stand at the precipice knowing I can go two ways. But I want a third. I want to forge a new path.
I did this. I let myself fall. And it was not how I thought it would go. been a long time since I let myself go. been strict and set rules. but then everything went sideways.
Channel Islands by the Bronx
‘Everything can change in the blink of an eye son. One day you’re killing time and the next day you’re dying. and when you’re telling the truth that’s when they call you a liar. you used to run with the gang, now you’re wearing a wire.’
fuck this album encapsulates my place right here. The Bronx has been my soundtrack since the break up. 3 has Past Lives which was my rebirth. this new one, V, plays in perfect step with where I am now.
two weeks ago I was riding high and thinking I knew where life was headed. Even had new music playing in my mind.
‘this is crazy this is outta control I’ve got a body but I don’t got a soul. if this the challenge I’m about to explode. The silver bullet shot a hole in the sky I’m still alive but I don’t know why’
‘Suck out the poison and savor the taste. Send me an angel, send me a whore. I know there’s a difference but I don’t care anymore.’
Then it went boom. And I was sitting here miserable.
Past Away the Bronx
‘I can’t wait until I see you again. I can’t wait. I know this isn’t the end.’
‘How are we supposed to just move on?’
right. goddamned right. right?
this fucking album on repeat as I work out my body and leave my head in this jumble. I want a drink and something else. somethings else. a lot of somethings.
I need help. or drugs. or both. or the right amount of both where I do not feel this all the time. and if left to my own devices I know where it goes. the lost time.
for the last 4 months i put the mask in the closet. let my face feel the wind for the first time in a long time. and it just turned out like it used to. a mistake.
it is not that kind of face. I am not that kind of person. I realize now that the inner me is not one of beauty but of the other side.
it is my place. not everyone can inhabit the happy places, be filled with joy and bright things. some of us have to tend the gardens of sorrow. keep the crops growing.
I see now how fake being hopeful is coming out of my mouth. The words don’t taste right, sickly sweet and oozing out. that is why I haven’t been able to read the currents. I am not made for them.
i don’t want to be him.
I want to be with you, sharing little moments.
instead I am here.