7:59 a.m.Two pieces of Jack Daniel's chocolate chip pecan pie for breakfast. I'm trying to make myself sick. Sicker.
Last night I found myself hiding away from all the people at the party. If I could find something to busy myself with - setting up, washing up - I was okay, even if someone came up to talk to me. Well, that's if I was washing dishes; when I was moving about, putting things out, picking things up, I would interrupt a conversation and say, "Oh, I've got to go..." and I would either say, "do this or that" or I would just let the sentence fall away.
When I ran out of set-up things to do, I stood on the 4x4 board in the back yard looking over the fence, watching who was coming in. The bulk of people came between 6:30 and 7. I knew CBGB was coming, and E (who recently said, "He's just crazy.") was already there, and G called while I was outside to ask what time it started, and I wasn't sure which of the faeries CBGB didn't want to be around but I didn't really wanna be around him myself because he and S hit it off and (I assume) had sex the night before.
Sunday morning, S said, "I feel like I need to talk to you, but I don't know what to say." I didn't know what to say either; S had asked if I wanted him to stay away from CBGB because I was interested in him, but how could I say yes to that? CBGB was interested in S, not me. And then later when S asked if I was upset about him and CBGB, how could I say yes to that? I wasn't upset that CBGB was attracted to S, I was upset that he wasn't attract to me. Or maybe he is/was, but not since S's been in town. I just didn't know how to say any of that without sounding like a baby.
I just wanted to be away from all those people. I hung out in the back yard till LB came and told me how different things are since he's not smoking pot every day, how much clarity he has, how nice it is to not be hanging with that crowd. And then he said, "Hey, JDJB, you got any smoke?!"
I did, and I could've used some myself, but it was in the house. I knew but didn't think about it at the moment that I would have to say hi to all those people I spied coming into the house from the back fence. I didn't get back to LB till after the party.
I said some quick hellos, then started picking up plates and bottles and washing dishes. That kept me busy for a good while. But by the time I was done, I had to get out of the house, away from all the small talk and cackling and rave reviews on the food and party - and CBGB constantly touching S.
I hid in the shadows of the front yard this time. When people started leaving, I hid behind the big hackberry tree. And I stayed there for close to an hour. And I tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me. Right then and there, there wasn't a soul I could lean on, nobody I could talk to. My thoughts went from S and CBGB to my mom and family, to JG {in Florida}, to Ro {in Vermont}, to all the other elemets of my past that seemed to be damming up in my head behind that tree.
Poisoned by my past. That's the thought that came to mind. I can't seem to be in the present moment because the present moment is clouded with pains of the past, and every moment becomes the past in a brief moment, and it stays there, too. And I cried and I cried. And I hid behind the tree when people pushed open the storm door, laughing, singing back their praises and appreciation and good whishes.
And then S came out, looking for me, no doubt. And I hid behind the tree. But while he was still out there, I stepped into the beam of the streetlight. But he didn't see me. He went inside and caused a stir (I imagine) by asking everybody remaining if they'd seen me. So then I knew everybody was "concerned" about me. LW told S to call me, and he did.
I answered. He came out, feeling guilty, worried, trying to support me, but I was unsupportable. I'd already crumbled into 1,000 jigsaw puzzle pieces, and I can't put those fucking things together, and I didn't fancy anybody else digging through the pile either, trying to find a couple of matching pieces.
I outlasted S in the cold, windy night. He finally left me alone, and since CBGB was gone (even though his car was still there) I decided to go in and help pack up the party. Those remaining (Ca, LB, LW, CBGB's roommate Khrysso, R) looked at me like I'd just come off of suicide watch.
Charming R came up to me, "Where ya been? What're ya doin'? Crying? What's up? What's wrong? What's right?"
I just walked away from him.
Later - much later - when we were home and I was further downed by the fact that R wasn't even there - I told S what R had said, and S said, "It sounds like he was trying."
I don't feel supported by S when he explains away everybody else's fuck-ups! I want comiseration not explanation! I was in bed; I had told S he could come up and sit with me as I went to sleep if he was so inclined. I didn't say much, but after that response from S, the last thing I said was, "It's too much work for me to know how to take what everybody else is saying and doing. I feel like giving up."
Steven said, "You give up?"
I said, "I feel like it."
He said, "What stops you?"
I said, "I don't know. I think it's animal instinct. The instinct to live. Like those footless and deformed pigeons in New York City in the middle of winter. Why don't they give up? Instinct."
Last night I found myself hiding away from all the people at the party. If I could find something to busy myself with - setting up, washing up - I was okay, even if someone came up to talk to me. Well, that's if I was washing dishes; when I was moving about, putting things out, picking things up, I would interrupt a conversation and say, "Oh, I've got to go..." and I would either say, "do this or that" or I would just let the sentence fall away.
When I ran out of set-up things to do, I stood on the 4x4 board in the back yard looking over the fence, watching who was coming in. The bulk of people came between 6:30 and 7. I knew CBGB was coming, and E (who recently said, "He's just crazy.") was already there, and G called while I was outside to ask what time it started, and I wasn't sure which of the faeries CBGB didn't want to be around but I didn't really wanna be around him myself because he and S hit it off and (I assume) had sex the night before.
Sunday morning, S said, "I feel like I need to talk to you, but I don't know what to say." I didn't know what to say either; S had asked if I wanted him to stay away from CBGB because I was interested in him, but how could I say yes to that? CBGB was interested in S, not me. And then later when S asked if I was upset about him and CBGB, how could I say yes to that? I wasn't upset that CBGB was attracted to S, I was upset that he wasn't attract to me. Or maybe he is/was, but not since S's been in town. I just didn't know how to say any of that without sounding like a baby.
I just wanted to be away from all those people. I hung out in the back yard till LB came and told me how different things are since he's not smoking pot every day, how much clarity he has, how nice it is to not be hanging with that crowd. And then he said, "Hey, JDJB, you got any smoke?!"
I did, and I could've used some myself, but it was in the house. I knew but didn't think about it at the moment that I would have to say hi to all those people I spied coming into the house from the back fence. I didn't get back to LB till after the party.
I said some quick hellos, then started picking up plates and bottles and washing dishes. That kept me busy for a good while. But by the time I was done, I had to get out of the house, away from all the small talk and cackling and rave reviews on the food and party - and CBGB constantly touching S.
I hid in the shadows of the front yard this time. When people started leaving, I hid behind the big hackberry tree. And I stayed there for close to an hour. And I tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me. Right then and there, there wasn't a soul I could lean on, nobody I could talk to. My thoughts went from S and CBGB to my mom and family, to JG {in Florida}, to Ro {in Vermont}, to all the other elemets of my past that seemed to be damming up in my head behind that tree.
Poisoned by my past. That's the thought that came to mind. I can't seem to be in the present moment because the present moment is clouded with pains of the past, and every moment becomes the past in a brief moment, and it stays there, too. And I cried and I cried. And I hid behind the tree when people pushed open the storm door, laughing, singing back their praises and appreciation and good whishes.
And then S came out, looking for me, no doubt. And I hid behind the tree. But while he was still out there, I stepped into the beam of the streetlight. But he didn't see me. He went inside and caused a stir (I imagine) by asking everybody remaining if they'd seen me. So then I knew everybody was "concerned" about me. LW told S to call me, and he did.
I answered. He came out, feeling guilty, worried, trying to support me, but I was unsupportable. I'd already crumbled into 1,000 jigsaw puzzle pieces, and I can't put those fucking things together, and I didn't fancy anybody else digging through the pile either, trying to find a couple of matching pieces.
I outlasted S in the cold, windy night. He finally left me alone, and since CBGB was gone (even though his car was still there) I decided to go in and help pack up the party. Those remaining (Ca, LB, LW, CBGB's roommate Khrysso, R) looked at me like I'd just come off of suicide watch.
Charming R came up to me, "Where ya been? What're ya doin'? Crying? What's up? What's wrong? What's right?"
I just walked away from him.
Later - much later - when we were home and I was further downed by the fact that R wasn't even there - I told S what R had said, and S said, "It sounds like he was trying."
I don't feel supported by S when he explains away everybody else's fuck-ups! I want comiseration not explanation! I was in bed; I had told S he could come up and sit with me as I went to sleep if he was so inclined. I didn't say much, but after that response from S, the last thing I said was, "It's too much work for me to know how to take what everybody else is saying and doing. I feel like giving up."
Steven said, "You give up?"
I said, "I feel like it."
He said, "What stops you?"
I said, "I don't know. I think it's animal instinct. The instinct to live. Like those footless and deformed pigeons in New York City in the middle of winter. Why don't they give up? Instinct."
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