In a pretty hard spiral, right now.  Waiting around for some friend to show up, who’s late – wants a favor from me, and he’s extremely late (go figure).

Smoking and listening to Elliot Smith…

Sometimes, I just don’t know what to do with it all.  All the shit that crops up in my head.  It’s not beating down on me, like a hard rain – I’m not having a mixed episode.  Just came across some photos, cleaning, that gave made me think of a different time, and that led to a spiral of memories – the PTSD doing it’s little dance through my neuropathways.

"The king’s crossing was the main attraction
Dominoes falling in a chain reaction
A scraping subject ruled by fear
Told me whiskey works better than beer
The judge is on vinyl, decisions are final
And nobody gets a reprieve
And every wave is tidal – if you hang around
You’re going to get wet"

I meant to mention this to Ace earlier but he had to jet – I was walking Charlie to the train station, and I say a nice looking backpack, along the wall of el station.  I picked it up, thinking I would take it inside to the attendant.  Charlie said that I chould check for something with a phone number or local address, so I did.  I opened what looked like a wallet, and I swear to God, there was a syringe inside.  No dope in sight, but no insulin either (haha)…  Charlie looks at it, shocked, and mutters, "somebody’s gear bag.  Great…"  I immediately put the bag down, and Charlie concurred, saying that we didn’t need that in our possession (not that we would use a stranger’s gear – it’s just an unwelcome reminder and a way to get pinched for no good reason).  We were both like, "what are the [email protected] odds?"  I tell you, when you kick, forces [email protected] align left and right to test you.

"I can’t prepare for death any more than I already have
All you can do now is watch the shells
The game looks easy, that’s why it sells
Frustrated fireworks inside your head
Are going to stand and deliver talk instead
The method acting that pays my bills
Keeps a fat man feeding in Beverly Hills
I got a heavy metal mouth that hurls obscenity
And I get my check from the trash treasury
Because I took my own insides out
It don’t matter cause I have no sex life"

I walked around my neighborhood.  I felt tired, and empty.  I’ve hit upon that emotional vaccum, where I just don’t enjoy the things I should.  I do things I know I want to be doing, and I don’t feel anything good.  At best, I think, "I’ll be glad, later, that I did this."  This isn’t true of everything.  I still enjoy talking to people who make me laugh.  Laughter is one of my only sources of relief when I get this tied up in my own BS. 

"I’ve seen the movie and I know what happens
It’s Christmas time, and the needles on the tree
A skinny Santa is bringing something to me
His voice is overwhelming, but his speech is slurred
And I only understand every other word
Open your parachute and grab your gun
Falling down like an omen, a setting sun
Read the part and return at five
It’s a hell of a role if you can keep it alive
But I don’t care if I fuck up"

I have to say, there are some really cruel people on this site.  This isn’t based on anything that’s happened to me, recently.  Another member who has struggled with cutting and suicidal thoughts expressed an intent to harm herself in a recent blog, and someone actually told her to get over it, or get on with it.    

I was shocked.  That is so cruel.  Anyone who is a member of a site called "Depression Tribe" should understand that depression can be crippling, and potentially fatal.  If someone talks of suicide, and doesn’t go through with it, we shouldn’t be annoyed and assume this person is full of it the next time they talk of such things.  Most people get close numerous times, and even try multiple times, before actually offing themselves.  I’ve been suicidal multiple times in my life, and I don’t think getting sh*tty with someone has ever helped anyone pull their act together – I am sure it wouldn’t have helped me.  In fact, I am very close to someone who actually tried to commit suicide (many years ago) after a friend made a get-over-it-or-get-on-with-it type comment, in response to his talk of wanting to die.  That friend later found out that he had prompted this failed attempt – the person I refer to had decided his friend was right, and that he should stop bitching, and just get it over with.  And, obviously, this friend felt appropriately awful. 

Anyone who taunts, berates, or otherwise gives sh*t to a suicidal person is playing with the emotions of someone who’s life may be in peril, and should be thoroughly ashamed.  If you think someone’s whiny, or you don’t take them seriously, then, just stay the hell away from them.  For f@ck’s sake – mean little kids would know better than to act this way.  People who have nothing positive or constructive to say to another member should just click the hell away.

"Give me one good reason not to do it
(Because I love you)
So do it
This is the place where time reverses
Dead men talk to all the pretty nurses
Instruments shine on a silver tray
Don’t let me get carried away
Don’t let me get carried away
Don’t let me be carried away" (Elliot Smith, "King’s Crossing")

A friend I had been blowing off for a while was in a terrible accident a couple weeks ago, and I had no idea.  He came by today with a huge line of staples running down his abdomen – he was hit on his bike by a cab and had to have his spleen removed.  I hung out with him for  a while.  I was avoiding hanging with him because he’s an ass, but I still care, and I don’t wish that kind of pain and suffering on anyone.

I went for a walk after he left, and got a frappacino (I kicked smack, but can’t seem to give up the damn frappacinos).  I heard drumming, like from a drum circle.  I followed the sound.  A new cafe in the area is under new ownership – they place looked good, and outside there were some guys, rockin out on some drums.  It was tight as hell.  I threw some coinage into their case, and lingered for a moment before heading home.  I saw a rabbit in an empty lot, and wished I had something to feed him.  A little while later, I walked under a cherry tree that I had never noticed before.  I must have walked down that street dozens of times, and I never noticed that cherry tree.  I gathered some fallen cherries, and dropped them through the fence for the rabbit.  I hope he ate them.  (I hope rabbits eat cherries.)

Man, I feel like hell.

1 Comment
  1. x10122007 12 years ago

    That”s ridiculous. I wonder if that person would like it if, one day, someone showed up on his or her blog and said the same thing, "Just get over it." If we could "just get over it", we wouldn”t be here, neither would this site. A lot of meds wouldn”t exist and there would be no need for counselors, therapists, psychologists, or psychiatrists. I think if anyone ever did that on one of my blogs, I would try reporting them to at least get the spam off my entry, that”s not useful at all.

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