Archive for March, 2004

Letters to Fred (cont’d)

Dear Fred,

Yours,

Bob

Dear Fred,

Please help me to be free and to feel alive. I’m scared, and I don’t know how or simply won’t do or not do whatever it takes to remain open and receptive to the flow of life. There is only me and the sense of struggle that defines me and which I am aware of only vaguely, out of the corner of my eye, so to speak. I waited for you to respond, but as you know, I have no faith. I don’t believe you will answer me, that words will just come out, that I will have a unique and faith inspiring experience. I want to believe, but I can’t or won’t or else really don’t want to. But if I don’t want to, then why all this? Why am I bothering to ask? Why do I feel so terrible and unfulfilled? Why won’t you answer me?

Yours,
Bob

Fuck you Fred! You goddamned prick! I’m sick of this fucking bullshit. There is only me and the only words that are going to appear are going to come straight out of my tight little ass! Fuck you, fuck this, and fuck the whole god-damned thing. Well, there’s some rage. Wasn’t that enough fire for you? Fuck you! But I’d still appreciate some sort of answer. Nothing else matters except that I’m proven wrong. Fuck you! I love you! What can I say? What can I do? Nothing.

Letter to Fred

Reading Hanna’s “Letters From Fred.” Somehow I’m reminded of that kid Lucian. It was two years ago–to the day almost–that I chatted with him and Kara on the porch of the Open Eye.

The end of March, beginning of Spring, tax time. Kara wondered aloud what tax form she would need, considering she only made $9000 all year. Suddenly this kid, who had been smoking on the porch all day and , in general, acting strange, pipes in: “I made $6000 this year just for being crazy.” There’s a clubhouse for mental ill people just down the block from the café, and Kara is used to the eccentricities of these folks. So she says, “You mean you’re like, mentally ill or something?” “Yeah man,” the kid says, “I’m totally schizophrenic man, but it’s not like a drag or anything. As a matter of fact, I love being crazy, I chose to be this way, man.” “I’m happy like, all the time. My Master, well… I’m not going to talk about that right now…” Best I could gather, the kid–who gave his name as Lucian–made some sort of arrangement with his Master when he was eightteen years old. He could live apart from the drab world of conventional, normal life, and be set free to enjoy the always interesting, perpetually happy life of lunacy, of being crazy. Only catch is (there’s always a catch, right!) it’s required that he live six years without possession of his soul, a condition that he admitted can be difficult at times. Fortunately though, he was at present a mere six months from his twenty-fourth birthday, and thus the reclamation of his long lost friend.

I had seen Lucian around town before, lately milling about the café, but also a year or so ago at the Skylight Exchange, more than once performing on open mic night. He stuck out in my mind because he sometimes wore a skirt and acted like an insane freak in general. Presently, I asked him whether or not he remembered playing at the Skylight and he said yeah, but that he had to stop playing music because it required too much energy and that, without a soul, he had to drink coffee all day just to keep awake. I never did see Lucian again, but I did go home and write a pretty cool song inspired by our conversation. I wonder if he really did get his soul back, and then maybe just went off to college or married some sweet girl. I wonder if the some of the guys at the group home were like Lucian when they were young. I wonder if any of them are still waiting for their souls to be returned to them.

–Later–

Dear Fred,

I’m scared. I want to know you. I want to know what to do, or how to not do. I want to be free and feel alive. I want and I don’t want. I am scared. But I don’t want to keep dying, to keep waiting with eyes slammed shut. I’ve lost my way. I need your help. I’m scared, very scared, but I am ready to listen. Do you have anything to say to me?

Yours,

–Bob

Who cares…

Yeah eh eh ah. Who cares… if it’s the greenhouse or the bluegrass? Either way, it’s a death trap for a titmouse. Who cares… if it’s 30 or 40 hours? Either way, it’s a sentence that’s repeated. Ad nauseam. And the feeling, it’s returning from it’s catnap on the ceiling.

Tight-ass

It’s late, but I’d like to express at least one clear thought before turning out the light. Maybe that was it. Today was longer, more luxurious than any in a long time. There were moments when I actually enjoyed myself, moments when I simply lived. There were also many slides into the muck of the usual me. The vicious circles, the missing of the mark. My eyes are getting heavy, but I’m not satisfied by this recounting of daily happenings. You never know just how tight your ass is till you feel the squeeze on your finger. Tomorrow will come and I will try again.

My old Kentucky home

My Old Kentucky Home. Actually, it’s a faceless apartment complex, a box within which I stare at boxes, eat from boxes, a tomb in a cemetery city of blue blood and spider vein smiles. Today, however, I begin to thaw, to catch the scent again. Sweetness is camping in the Smoky Mountains with friends and I am stumbling pleasantly into a week off from work. Spring Break 2004, and I’ll be off in a few days to beloved Carrboro for some rock and roll fueled mayhem. A deliciously lazy Saturday to myself, a cup of coffee and the last chapter of On the Road already under my belt. Crazy Dean Moriarty reminds me a little of Jeff, and I find myself missing his unpredictable antics. Had m.a. not moved away, I wonder how things would’ve unfolded with the band. As it is, the guys are pressing on, and Friday promises to be a night of great revelation. I’m ready for something.

Incredible animus succubus pirouette pile-on

Hair in the tide, jaws open wide, incredible animus succubus pirouette pile-on. Apologies accepted, exceptions beheaded and placed on pikes like crispy shishkabobs in the fiery sun. Leaving here in heartbeat haste to not be somewhere else forever in spiraling circles.

March Madness

Mom’s birthday. Saw “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” this weekend. March Madness on the tube. I dreamed that Mom and Dad were splitting up. We were all gathered in the living room at Taylor Court. It was a wedding reception I think. After the announcement (of the split), a giant camper backed right through the wall of the house (an impressive feat considering we lived on the second floor). At first I thought it was an accident, some stupid relative or something, but then the camper smashed through the other walls of the house as well (on the Roselawn side). I ran outside to see what was what, but the camper sped away. I was concerned with how we would be able to carry on with the walls smashed up like that.

My energy level is low these days. As usual, I’m haunted with the sense that I’m missing the point of life somehow. I can’t hold the proper perspective on things. I still don’t know what I want to do. Every hat that I try on costs me months or years of wages. If I take massage classes, it puts me ten grand more in debt — that’s just in the past year. When will this madness end?

I held the door for an elderly black woman on the way out of the child unit. Without looking at me, she said “God, I’m tired of this” as she walked by. A child was screaming in the “Quiet Area.” I imagined this was her grandchild and that she’d had to drop him off here several times in the past few months. The look in her eyes mirrored what she said exactly.

I’ve been putting a lot of pressure on myself lately. I’m afraid that if I stop struggling for even an instant, I’ll be set helplessly adrift. I’m afraid I’ll give up the ghost — not the ghost of ego, like in some spiritually positive way, but give up in a gesture of resignation and spiritual death. I’m confused about all this. I have no faith in life, no faith that something beyond the struggling me will keep me afloat.

On the Road

From “On the Road”:

“In 1942 I was star in one of the filthiest dramas of all time. I was a seaman, and went to the Imperial Café on Scollay Square in Boston to drink; I drank sixty glasses of beer and retired to the toilet, where I wrapped myself around the toilet bowl and went to sleep. During the night at least a hundred seamen and assorted civilians came in and cast their sentient debouchments on me till I was unrecognizably caked. What difference does it make afterall? anonymity in the world of men is better than fame in heaven, for what’s heaven? what’s earth? All in the mind.” p. 202

Old Bones

Every day feels like a struggle to keep my head above water, a battle of life versus death. I know that on some level the thing to do is surrender, yet in the context of day to day life the struggle of the will against inertia seems paramount.

Cloudy grey day hangs heavy like a cloak of old bones. Hammers bang on nails and the clock ticks are like bug bites to my brain. Last night when m.a. slipped under the sheets with me she whispered “You’re wonderful. I love you.” For all she knew, I was sound asleep and didn’t hear a word. Wonderful. Next thing I know the alarm’s buzzing and I’m standing in the shower covered in suds. “The dirt won’t come off — it’s on the inside!”

I’ve been reading Kerouac’s “On the Road.” There’s something haunting about it, especially in the character of Dean Moriarty. It seems there’s only one ending to every story about the adventures of youth. People get old. Life catches up with us and we get pummeled into submission one way or another. Everywhere I look I get the same message: it’s over. Promise and possibility give way to resignation and the way things are. Deal with it. Grow up. Wake up.

Fred Rogers is a saint (not a pedophile)

Yesterday I returned from work dazed, and spent the entire evening staring blankly at the television. There was a documentary on the life of Fred Rogers on PBS. While watching, I made several jokes about him being a pedophile (in poor taste, for my own amusement), but by the end I was convinced the man was a saint.

My energy level these days is nil, and I’m looking forward to spending spring break hanging out in Carrboro. Drowsily, I push the pen along in hopes of tripping a mine or falling down a flight of stairs absent-mindedly.