lately it seems what i say is either heard differently by others or maybe i am so disconnected from the world that my lips move to say something and i hear only what’s in my head, not the mindless dribble that omits from my lips. if only one person had said something to me about it, i might shrug it off but the votes are in and it’s pretty unanumous.
it’s even to the point where occasionally i have a detailed conversation with someone only to find that the words i spoke never got further than my four legged friend beside me. i think they call it “psychosis”, “delirium”, “hallucinations”.
drugs will alter the psyche. i believe it. in fact, i am proof of it.
in my life and in my work i am the master communicator. i remember what i say and what other people say in great detail. i am the “go-to” boy when two are in dispute because i can repeat, re-phrase, catch inconsistencies and re-frame with ease. the very career i chose (maybe it chose me) was based on those skills.
but day after day after day after day with out a break from party central …that will do a number on a person. it’s a combination of chemicals, sleep deprevation (in my opinion even more debilitating that drugs), poor nutrition, isolation and lack of socialization and minimal mental stimulation. i know this will shock some but 12 hours of porn does not a brain cell build).
remember i said i’d talk about the good, bad and “ugly” of life with tina? well this is part of the “ugly”.
it’s the end of a cycle for me. it’s that time when I “get to the point” (pun fully intended) where i can’t stand sticking one more needle in my already sore body. it’s the point where the money goes so fast and lasts so few days and i am sick to death of being broke or robbing peter to pay nobody ‘cause we all known paul never gets paid. it’s the point where i cannot deny that who i see in my pictures is but a shadow of my former physical self I (and i’m one of ones who eats). it’s the point where i’d just as soon live in complete isolation than let one more tweaker through my front door. it’s the point where even i can’t co-sign my own bullshit one more g-damned day.
i’ve talked enough about a break to have dictated “War and Peace” three times over. i put it off when I lost someone i loved deeply to cancer. i put it off again when i was horribly betrayed. then i put it off after the loss of a couple of close friends; the irony of course is that they are likely gone because of the “extensions” themselves. i guess this last putting off has been about not wanting the hell of coming off again. that said, the hell of keeping going is a far worse alternative. i used to think there was a bottom with tina but i don’t anymore. i think it’s just a state of being suspended in a perpetual erosion that has no end that she brings us to.
here’s the miracle. a couple of months ago, i had myself “scheduled” for a break but didn’t really WANT the break. today, i WANT the damn break. and you what? my WANT of the break is light-years from my breaks/stops of the past. for me to break, it used to have to look like this:
a 17 day stretch with 2 3-hour naps and routinely pushing .5’s and missing family vacations. that was a crisis. that took yet another stay at the “spa” (aka treatment) to arrest.
here’s a miracle for you….it does not take that kind of crisis any more. instead “messy” (ok pretty damn messy) is enough that i call uncle. who knows, maybe next time (there will be a next time- guaranteed) “messy” will look a little more like “pain in the ass”. for some that bullshit …for me, that’s fucking amazing!
and as the bonus price:
it’s highly likely that i will start making sense to people when i talk ..especially when i include them in the conversation!
but give me a couple of weeks to get thru the sketch b4 you hold me to that, ok? :)