Vertigo

I was reading mimiinnewyork.blogspot.com, and I came across this entry titled "Vertigo" ... anyways I just thought it was an interesting read, especially since I feel like I've met someone like that in my life time ... it's not disheartening, but it makes you rethink what you thought, and see things from a different perspective ... or maybe I'm just overthinking things.

Vertigo
You know when you're right at the top, looking over, and you have that overwhelming desire to throw yourself off?

"Vertigo." he said. It's a fear of what you might do even when the rational mind registers the drop, acknowledges the inevitable mess that will ensue and still buzzes that furtive little message through the neurons, jump, jump.

I think I lack vertigo, which is how I've survived for so damned long. There was never any fear for the wellbeing of this body. What I was carrying around I couldn't give a shit about. So long as it was fed, drugged up, fucked and drunk, my body did me fine. It carried me where I wanted to go, and hell, if it hit the bottom hard, so be it. Smacked up, stung, soiled - I was loving every fucked-up minute of an existence I couldn't recall because the brain cells had been damned near destroyed by living too hard. I was falling, falling, falling, but couldn't remember the jump, and the bottom seemed to be evasive. So I tried a little harder.

My eyes were rolling and I could feel it along with the pang of a jaw strung taut, frayed elastic ready to pop with the gurning, and I couldn’t remember where I’d been, but I knew where I was, and when he opened the door he knew where I’d been because my eyes told him. So without a word he led me in, lay me down and there were no kisses, not that I remember, not that I could feel, but what I could feel was the drug shuddering through my body and my body following instinct not instruction. Instinct dictated what I did, because my head was incapable of it. I remember it didn’t hurt but from somewhere I felt like it should, and all the while I stared at the sordid red glow from the cigarette which dangled loosely from thick lips, burning embers and flecks of ash drifting into a sepia night, and from the light cast I could see that my body still looked young even as it felt so old, cold and trembling from the inevitable comedown. This time I think it did hurt, but by that time I was out, gone, on the move again, and the streets were quiet because it was 7am and France had not yet woken up.

He called me later when I was sitting on the bow of the boat, looking out across the harbour and the crew had gone to The Blue Lady. It was a pink sun, always a pink sun, and the Mistral was starting to blow, because summer was nearly over and it was time to go.

"You never said goodbye," he said

"No, I didn't." and I hung up, called the next one. "I'll be in Palma in two days. See you there."

Kept jumping right into the next addled day sodden with alcohol and the echoing, stark numbness of a beer-sodden soul still reeling from a chemical high and the smack of the night. I forget every man, but I remember every morning, my eyes wide and vacant, unable to speak. I'd sit at Bar Toni, down espresso and nod to the French guy with the curly hair and the dirty, long, yellow fingernails who sold me shit I'd sell to tourists for twice the price. I left my men like I left my boats: abruptly, before I got kicked off for turning up for work at 6am with no sleep and a jaw locked tight, clenched shut - whether through drugs or something else, I couldn't tell. Still can't.

In Palma he came with an unspectacular yelp like a small dog while his wife roamed the streets for him, calling a cellphone which beeped uselessly beneath the bed next to the suitcase and the flip-flops.

"I'd leave her for you, you know," he sighed, and he would, I knew it. He'd jump, knowing that the fall would be swift and clean and the result a carnival of crushed and splintered bones, intestines oozing like reptiles across a baked sidewalk. Whereas I'd just walk away.

When I got to Gibraltar he'd left a message for me. I ignored it. And then we sailed to the Canary Islands - which island I forget - and it rained, and we sat in a bar sipping Bailey's staring at the masts of sailboats kissing dirty grey clouds. He called me again.

"I want to leave her. I've decided. I'll meet you in St Maarten."

But I hung up, and when the Captain looked over to ask me what was wrong he caught my eye and smiled, and he knew, having mastered the exquisite art of falling, falling, falling for all eternity, without fear or retribution or spilt blood - ours, at least. I time them to perfection, my leaps over that cliff, waiting until the bow of the next boat noses close to mine and I can spring over in a perfect arc, clearing salt water licking at my heels, fall to safety, fall on my feet, hit the deck cleanly, half wishing I could feel the same sting that everyone else gets from the impact of earth punching body.

I'm always on my way out, ready to jump. Bag slung over shoulder, moving on, ticket in hand, a flight, a boat, a train. It's a solo occupation. On reflection maybe I never mastered the vertigo. I just lived with it until it became part of my soul, and every night was just jumping again and again, senseless, exalted, perfect. I don't know if I can give it up.

"I don't know if I can give it up," I told him at 7am after a night of hard drinking, and ash from my cigarette spilled like wine onto my lap. "I think that even though I want a normal life and clean living and everything to be nice and what it's never been, I know that at some point I'll get to that cliff, and I'll want to jump." It felt weird saying it out loud. But he was the one who told me about vertigo. And he said he mastered it by jumping, so that's something, at least. That's something.

"It's OK," he replied, and I could tell it really was. "'Cause if you get to the top, and you want to jump, I'll jump with you."

I wanted to say that wasn't the point, but then it occurred to me that maybe it was, and it would be OK after all. I thought some more. All I said in the end was "Thanks." But I think he understood.

My Tattoo

Well I finally did it ... It only took 9 years, and countless wasted hours and designs, but I finally found the right one, the right artist, and the right time.

The original design was drawn in 2003 during a particulary tough time in my life. Coincidentally ... I found it in my sketch book while I was going through a terrible rough patch at the end of last year. It was just comforting to know that I'd been there before ... and that YES things do get better.

So ... I couldn't think of a better piece of art to have forever etched or "inked" into my skin. It reminds me of where I've been and where I hope to go. It brings me back to a rough time in my life, while reminding me that things do get better. Things move forward, they improve, and even though sometimes it may feel as the world is conspiring against you, hope and the promise of better tomorrows always win out.

(note: the first chance I get, I'll scan and upload the original sketch so you can see the transformation from drawing to tattoo)

so immature ...

It's Thursday.

I have tomorrow off so today is essentially Friday. My mind is tired, and I know it's silly ... but I just find this picture too funny, and I thought it might make someone else laugh.

By the way isn't today a marvelous day? Nothing like fat kids in t-shirts blatantly whoring themselves out to remind you of how much fun a Thursday can be!

taking responsibility

I say this with no trace of anger, malice, or resentment.

In reality I wasn't even going to address it as I think it's better to just leave it in the past, yet against my better judgment I am writing this here. I am not doing this to garner some reaction but I think I should provide or at least owe some explanation ...

I've thought about this and I realize I've spent far too much time apologizing, and far too much time feeling bad for things that I have said, when in reality I was simply speaking my mind.

I'm sor ... no ... It's unfortunate that a certain person had to read some of my previous posts, and it's too bad that they had to find out what I thought, but it is what it is and I will not apologize for that.

I guess they have a short memory if they thought this was the only time where their honesty could be called into question. There are too many other instances where I had always given them the benefit of the doubt because I "trusted" them. For once they were honest, and by their simple admission, they finally confirmed that my trust had been in fact misplaced.

In this case the person uses the truth like an accessory. They speak it only when it suits them, or serves their purposes. It's not that it is none of the other person's business, it's just that they would not benefit from it being known, OR it may work against them, OR it would be too hard and would force them to confront some things about them self that they would rather not acknowledge. It's selfish ...

In the end they were not who they appeared to be ... all their actions, their little lies and half truths ... I take all the blame for putting my trust in them, for always taking their side, and for always believing them.

I am not without fault.

I will readily admit that I was naive, and that some of my actions could and should be considered childish ... or boorish. It's my own fault for letting the whole situation drive me to behave in ways I normally would not consider. It was almost an ... obsession or at least I was obsessing ... I knew what was happening and what I was doing, but it did not prevent me from being asinine in my behavior, and becoming more of a nuisance than anything else. It was maddening but I wouldn't let go, and that frustrated me to no end. I guess I was chasing a truth that was more of a myth, or answers ... and even though many of the facts were right in front of me, they were not the answers I wanted to see or hear.

I am grateful that I at least realize all this, and hopefully these lessons will serve me in the future.

So now ... I thank that person.

I AM SORRY that you proved me right.

impulsivity

A blog is supposed to be something to share thoughts, etc. I have trouble writing personal items on here ... I usually prefer to stick to generalities in order to mask identities, etc.

In some cases ... or at least lately I feel I've used this as a forum to vent. Vent my frustrations with situations and people ... and I always struggle with whether or not to publish. In some cases I publish certain items, only to delete them at a later date ... or I write items and save them only to publish them later on ...

In the heat of the moment, when I lay aside thought and type through emotions, I know I can say some pretty harsh truths, but that's what they are ... regardless of the words used to relay the information ... they are truth.

So why write this? It's not a disclaimer ... I know the weight of my actions and the consequences ... no, I'm writing this as an explanation as to WHY ... each post has a legitimate truth behind it, and while sometimes a posting may be a spur of the moment impulse, the ones that stay are exactly what I was thinking.

immature

Some people just have no class ... I've come to realize that, and although it's taken me awhile, at least I know.

When you can't even be called upon to deal with something like a normal rational human being, than it begs the question "How f*ck'n old are you???"

No .... instead you have to make up some elaborate scheme ... oh this person emailed you saying this, WHAT? how did that person email you ... listen ... why don't you grown some frick'n balls and for once do something that is remotely mature and say what you really mean instead of trying to pass the buck off on someone else.

Honestly it's pathetic ... and it only makes me happier that I got out of it when I did ... so I guess I should thank you ...

I should thank you for being such an immature bitch ... and honestly ... that is exactly what you are.

honesty

I try to lead a life of honesty ... I think that people sometimes veer from that path mainly to avoid certain small issues, but at other times they do it to hide inconvenient truths. I think more than anything else dishonesty has to be my biggest pet peeve.

I try and treat each and every person I meet with a few things ... a certain level of respect, some trust (if warranted), and above all else straight up 100 percent honesty. Unfortunately more and more I've come to realize that it's an idealistic view of the world, and of people. I know I've already said this before but ... my best attribute and biggest flaw are that I always try to see the "good" in people ... For the most part it serves me quite well, but I have to say it sometimes blinds me to the 1 or 2 percent of people that I meet who are incredibly dishonest, deceitful ... I guess there's a lesson in everything and meeting those kinds of people from time to time is just a simple reminder that "YES" these people actually exist and chances are that over the course of one's life you'll run into a few.

I guess the main thing to take away from this is that while "they" are out there ... it's important to remember that not everyone is like that. There are lots of decent people out there, and as long as you're as up front and as honest as possible, then the chances of meeting those "undesirables" is diminished.

Life lessons are sometimes hard, but they're honestly worth it.

Innocence of the Unknown

I was talking to a friend not too long ago, and they were relating to me how one of their daughters had recently had a severe bought of gastro or some other malady. The end result being that the poor little thing was now afraid to poo ... mainly because of the fear that it would be as painful as when she was sick ...

It's funny at first when you think about it ... I mean as you get older you learn that things have a cause and effect relationship that inevitably leads to an end result. Therefore it's not hard to imagine yourself avoiding the cause if the end result is negative, or at least understanding the "why" of certain things.

When you're so young though ... it must be terrifying. Without that understanding it becomes difficult and in this case frightening ... in the face of the unknown the innocent are always fearful. At some point the unknown becomes known, and cause and effect can take their rightful place as guides for the future.

Not only about poo ... but I do hope she poos soon ...

Downtime

There is a lot to be said for sitting alone at home ... with a glass of wine, a good book, and some good friends on the stereo ...

The overall effect is one of calm, one of peace, and a general sigh of the soul that releases all the stress and worries of the day. With every sip and every note played, it's as though one more thing has been washed out of the system. It's something that I haven't done in a long ... long time ... and now that I sit here in silence with nothing but Otis breaking his heart, the warm tingle of the wine as it passes past my palette, and the peace and calm to consider all things great and small ...

I wonder why I don't do it more often. Why is there always such a rush to move things forward, go somewhere, get something done ... sometimes, maybe not all the time ... but sometimes a little procrastination and a little time to be with yourself is just what you need the most.

R.U.C.K.U.S

ruck·us (rŭk'əs)

• commotion: the act of making a noisy disturbance
  
• a noisy commotion; fracas; rumpus
• A disturbance; a commotion

As I was alluding to earlier ... I've been feeling great, and with the weekend upon us, the weather warming, an early spring coming, and a rediscovery of everything that is eternally sunny ... I just feel a ruckus coming.

It's brewing, it's off on the horizon, but the winds of chaos and commotion are pushing clouds of joy and happiness this way ... and they're coming in a hurry.

So grab a hat and jump on board, there is plenty of room. For all of those reading this, today, tonight, this weekend ... this YEAR ... is the best time to create your own noisy disturbance or commotion of pure merriment ... why? ... because ... because there's no time like the present to push aside worries, stress and the monotony of the every day in exchange for that which inspires, surprises and warms the spirit.

SO BRING IT!!!