Lost.

 

Remember me,I know that one day you will leave,/but I hope/ there’ll always be something there to remind you/  That I still love you/ I will always love you.

–“Ever and Always”, Snowbirds,1990.

Nothing I do ever seems to work,its only seems to make matters worse.

-The Rolling Stones.

How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I am facing?

-John Lennon.

(Seeing that I cant get any lower,could you please smile and talk a little slower…..)

I’m having a mighty hard time with the evergreen “Everything happens for a reason” school of thought right now.

You know that you are fucked up when the room seems just that little bit emptier when you arrive and people look at you and curl their noses like they can smell burning hair.

I try and cut through it all like a proud ship. My prow slicing though the churning waves of betrayal. Iceberg ahead SS Michele. No Carpathia to heed your S.O.S, to  save you. Blame the fog or foul play but out there alone in the middle of nowhere it matters not.You,little sister, are snapping in two tonite and sinking.

I feel  this way for a what? A lesson?

I have a problem with it. I mean,I really do.Sitting at my rebel flag covered desk of a million miles and Hunter S Thompson wank fantasies.Covering my internal Tet offencive with nothing but a chewed bridge pencil and a well thumbed thesaurus. Gimme strength or gimme a drip full of Valium in a dark room. There is no rug to get pulled out from underneath me.Don’t be a smart ass.That went to the hock shop months ago. Its a fucking vortex. I’m so used to falling that I now casually arabesque and snooze in the slip stream.

Ten fingers,ten toes. Not dying no matter how many black candles are being lit on the California coast line to sway that fact. My marrow is frozen and the deadline gets closer by the minute.

I cant have the ringer turned up on my phone.It panics me.I will call ya back.I will drop the dime so don’t sweat it.

This Hello kitty heart has finally been hammered flat.Its all gone.I would love to be writing of self redemption and rising.Nope.The sun rises, bread,water levels,Jesus at Easter……..

So, the deal is not to get high on praise or low on the critiques.( ” Wow! You’ve lost weight! Is it cancer?”) You know that you are in trouble when your therapist looks as drained and defeated as you feel. I feel like I should bake her a cake or something.Say sorry.( “Fuck,fuck,fuck!” ) And there was me thinking that there was a tiny light. a light at the end of the tunnel. Turns out that there is and its coming right at me.A train that, alas, I cannot derail.

The tweakers down the road have added yet another shitty off road bike to their noisy stable off cc derived madness. I have been listening to what sounds like an amphetamine fueled lawn mower do laps around my block for the last 9 hours. I have been playing guitar and excelling in my rather stunning chosen vocation  of avoiding life and all of the vulgar pursuits and evil folly it contains.

I realised today that I will never kiss again. I will never be held. Never fuck nor fuck in return. After the memories of when I did all of the above with my lost forever,the love of my life, lifted, I untangled myself from the tan fetal position that I had assumed on my Persian rug, I went and did punishing sets of shoulder presses ,curls,and the ilk.

I think about it then I don’t. I miss it and then I don’t. But when I do? You don’t want to know

I thought that we would be married by now.Me writing the book that I had planned on about my man,his amazing life. Playing together, making a mess. I read that amputees sometimes still feel the removed limb. I still feel the removed  future.

I think that I am done with speaking.I cant edit myself and nobody wants the truth. I just sit here.

( To my left a small picture of my adored Lester Bangs,a Hello kitty tarot deck in japanese that was sent to me when I was suicidal,a plaster cast of my broken teeth,a jar of toothpicks I brought in Nashville,Elvis vinyl titled “Pure Gold”, the lid of a blue and white Chinese a ginger jar, a massive Oxford dictionary given to me by a mistake in tight jeans that I made about a million years ago who despaired at my Dyslexia.The opening page inscribed “M, no more excuses,Love J”. At the end of our charged affair I dreamt of dropping it on his head as he sat at the bottom of the stairs running up my phone bill…..)

We give ourselves to strange religion.Found objects that carry the lucid moment of their discovery.Memory portals.My desk,my altar looks like the counter of a truck stop that collided with a 6 year old on acid.

One does not need to kneel to pray.

to prey.

Locked in here with stuff. Piles of stuff. I get lost in it for hours,days.I pick things up and am transported. The things that mattered the most and cut the deepest are still locked in the gold chest at the foot of my bed.They are the talisman’s that bring me to my knees.They are the history that will take my life.

 The shape of his words on fragile Denny’s napkins. The joyous smut that we would write and slyly slide  back and forth across the battle scared Formica while anilalating 2am breakfasts to get the energy to go home and defile each other over and over again. His scent is trapped within this veritable coffin that resides at my sleeping feet. Pictures,the ticket stubs from the movie we saw  on our first date ,a sliver of his broken tooth,tour itineraries,”Do not disturb” signs in every language you can imagine and a few that you cant. I kept it all.

While he had me, he somehow managed to throw me away.

I cant look. I don’t look. It wants me to. I  am only just holding on as it is. Every fucking rafter wants me as a wind-chime,sharp things beg to enter the envelope of my corpse. I wanted to give him perfection. I remembered how it felt writing songs for him years before we got together hoping against hope that one day he would hear them and just know. Know that I had stored all the love that I inexplicably knew he needed so badly  and that I was waiting for him to notice me.To stop looking at me and see me.

The God’s didn’t want me that happy. I failed.

Its the year of the low-line.The year of the traitor. Year of the shadow.

Bones are re -emerging.Pain calls me by name,so I go again and again.Push more weight,run more miles. Bones like buds bloom from  underneath the winter of my flesh.Thinner,faster. Able to escape.Tuned fine and silently thrumming. No one is ever gonna hurt me like that again.I am gonna bleed jailhouse blue ink.I dream in 8 ohm. I desire economy.If I can’t discipline my self to write, its not worth saying.To speak is to dissipate.Shut the fuck up.

I dream………

The world consists of transatlantic flights,sky,blood and orgasms.Iggy is the president of the world (“All rise!”) and silver leather pants are mandatory.Bones De rigour. On the surface of said planet The Ramones still roam and you love yourself enough to stop hurting yourself and back on Beechwood, I lick you clean mama cat-style,while,at last,you sleep.

You look deep into my eyes when we fuck and I can see past the sum of all my parts. Lemmy’s Birthday is a national holiday.In keeping with tradition,we stick candy warts on our cheeks and bob for Marlboro’s in deep wooden tubs filled with bourbon. Thin is in a la Bowie back in the bitter glitter day.Being overweight incurs a fine of $230 dollars to be paid with in 30 working days.No personal cheques.

I wake up,pearls of sweat strung across my shaking sternum.The world spins punch drunk in the dark.I am lost until I get a foot on the floor.My dreams tend to be all you,all the time.Haunted.I think that I can taste you on my 3am air between the cracks of my failing teeth.I don’t sleep again for hours.Cry till I dehydrate.

So now I know. I was only ever gonna do it once.For real.For keeps. It ended up being almost like an experiment. I was tooling with my fatally flawed chemistry but I had never believed in anything nor wanted something so bad before. It blew up in my face. But in a way,a small way granted,its ok. Because now I really know.It blew off my blinkers and my blinders.

And you know what?  It doesn’t help one fucking single solitary bit.

I am stock piling fresh water and heavy artillery.I’m gonna blow myself up or take everyone with me. Hey,have you got a coin? Call it,heads or tails? Best outta 3 ?…………………………