Nighttime
After this divinely twisted realisation of mine, I was listening to Feel Good Inc. over and over and over..."Take it all in on your stride, it is sinking, falling down; love forever, love is free, let's turn forever: you and me..."
I was concentrating on the music, my own special way of blocking out the depression and Lance and I had just been in a fight. It's hard to know where to go when you share a floor with someone and you storm out. I hate to worry Fran (Lance's mom, to recap), but I just took off, and I sat out behind the 7/11 and turned on my CD Player (yes, I live in the Stone Age).
He told me he didn't want to hear anything else about my death dream. Just out of the blue, he said it, while he was flipping through a guitar catalogue (a peace offering from his brother and his friends...Lori and Josh said it was a "good will mission", to end the mini-war we've been having). I was looking through The Bad Art Collection again...a seriously pitiable collection of art from genius Vasquez. (It was 2 bucks, why not?)
I kind of looked up at him, and as per my way, started a fight. I say (dumbass!) "So you don't want me to talk at all?"
He says, "I didn't say that. I said don't talk about your death dream."
"Why don't I just cut out my throat?" I cheerfully suggest (what the fuck is wrong with me, God?)
He threw his magazine down and asked me "Is that all you're going to talk about, then? Because believe it or not, I don't like hearing about your death!" and he stormed out.
THAT'S when I stop feeling spiteful and feel guilty. And I know Lance: if I apoligise immediately, he'll figure that I'm patronizing him.
I followed him anyway (was irritated to find that he'd taken off one of my socks, so I was half-bare footed) and he just turned around and told me that he though that maybe if I died, then I wouldn't want to destroy myself anymore, maybe I'd stop hurting him, and that he was really sick of dealing with me.
Word for word, my father had said the same thing last month (about being sick of dealing with me), so I dropped my apolegetic look and got really angry. I couldn't see his point at the time, and wished I had. I just swore at him, instead, put on my boots and left with my bag.
Anyway, I sat behind the 7/11 with my bag, containing homework and (thankfully) cigarettes and my CD on repeat, and rubbed my aching head (it felt like I'd hit my temple on the corner of a desk, but duller and more painful). I bought some booze and basically got tanked, and stayed in place until the 7/11 guy kicked me away, and then I went and sat on Lance's porch. For some reason, I figured he wouldn't come up, therefore it was a safe place to be...I reason poorly when I'm drunk. Instead, a visiting Lori (previously mentioned, he's recently married to Ian) sat out with me and just sighed.
I was going to say something to him (I won't say what, it was awfully rude and I was awfully drunk), but Fran pulled me inside and put me to sleep on the couch. I can't help but figure she would always take Lance's side (I mean all the time, I was definitely wrong on this one) because she was his mom, but she seemed to be pretty nuetral and that made me sleep easy, for sure.
Anyway, I fucked up, but I'm never to speak of the dream again says Lance. (I remember back in the day we used to call him God, and aesthetically, oh yeah. While I'm still mad about the breakfast thing, let me say this: He's a fucking idiot. He's airheaded and stupid and he can't even read well!)
The breakfast includes me getting drenched in cereal, so fuck him: HE was wrong there.
Love
JV, bastard
I was concentrating on the music, my own special way of blocking out the depression and Lance and I had just been in a fight. It's hard to know where to go when you share a floor with someone and you storm out. I hate to worry Fran (Lance's mom, to recap), but I just took off, and I sat out behind the 7/11 and turned on my CD Player (yes, I live in the Stone Age).
He told me he didn't want to hear anything else about my death dream. Just out of the blue, he said it, while he was flipping through a guitar catalogue (a peace offering from his brother and his friends...Lori and Josh said it was a "good will mission", to end the mini-war we've been having). I was looking through The Bad Art Collection again...a seriously pitiable collection of art from genius Vasquez. (It was 2 bucks, why not?)
I kind of looked up at him, and as per my way, started a fight. I say (dumbass!) "So you don't want me to talk at all?"
He says, "I didn't say that. I said don't talk about your death dream."
"Why don't I just cut out my throat?" I cheerfully suggest (what the fuck is wrong with me, God?)
He threw his magazine down and asked me "Is that all you're going to talk about, then? Because believe it or not, I don't like hearing about your death!" and he stormed out.
THAT'S when I stop feeling spiteful and feel guilty. And I know Lance: if I apoligise immediately, he'll figure that I'm patronizing him.
I followed him anyway (was irritated to find that he'd taken off one of my socks, so I was half-bare footed) and he just turned around and told me that he though that maybe if I died, then I wouldn't want to destroy myself anymore, maybe I'd stop hurting him, and that he was really sick of dealing with me.
Word for word, my father had said the same thing last month (about being sick of dealing with me), so I dropped my apolegetic look and got really angry. I couldn't see his point at the time, and wished I had. I just swore at him, instead, put on my boots and left with my bag.
Anyway, I sat behind the 7/11 with my bag, containing homework and (thankfully) cigarettes and my CD on repeat, and rubbed my aching head (it felt like I'd hit my temple on the corner of a desk, but duller and more painful). I bought some booze and basically got tanked, and stayed in place until the 7/11 guy kicked me away, and then I went and sat on Lance's porch. For some reason, I figured he wouldn't come up, therefore it was a safe place to be...I reason poorly when I'm drunk. Instead, a visiting Lori (previously mentioned, he's recently married to Ian) sat out with me and just sighed.
I was going to say something to him (I won't say what, it was awfully rude and I was awfully drunk), but Fran pulled me inside and put me to sleep on the couch. I can't help but figure she would always take Lance's side (I mean all the time, I was definitely wrong on this one) because she was his mom, but she seemed to be pretty nuetral and that made me sleep easy, for sure.
Anyway, I fucked up, but I'm never to speak of the dream again says Lance. (I remember back in the day we used to call him God, and aesthetically, oh yeah. While I'm still mad about the breakfast thing, let me say this: He's a fucking idiot. He's airheaded and stupid and he can't even read well!)
The breakfast includes me getting drenched in cereal, so fuck him: HE was wrong there.
Love
JV, bastard
posted by Mr. Death at 10:42 a.m.
13 Comments:
]]]]Hey there "Caveman" - yeah, i live in the stone-age too - but i DID get myself a new phone that weighs only 4 oz. half the weight of my old Fido,(8 oz) which, yes, i really weighed them[[[[[[
...anyhow.....
ahhh, Mr. Death, I'm so sorry that my post disturbed you....so long since we have communicated....typical me, i did not even think that that post might disturb anyone (what a dumbass i am!!!!) well, that has given me something to think about.
anyway, have you been able to get into the live eagle cam yet? one of the eggs is gone, so there is only one left, and we are all anxiously awaiting the hatching of the wee eaglet, but it is overdue so we are concerned, all 10 million of us in cyber space who are watching....check it out, it will cheer you up...
and next time i will put a CAUTION note at the top of my post, anyway, thanks for the comp. about my writing, but you also have a gift, well, more than one, -- musical and talented and skilled with painting and drawing and such!
MISS-COMMUNICATION...yeah! we are so GOOD at that, eh?
well, what can i say my darlin', you know i'm not going to lie to you: "Why don't i just cut out my throat?" you ask...a tad dramatic, not to mention what a mess it would make, but you certainly go for the shock value, eh? ... knowing damn well that Lance would not want you to do that, eh?
yeah, the problem is, we don't always REALLY know what is going on other people's head, and perhaps that triggered some deep seated fear in him.
the good news is, EVERYONE reasons poor when drunk, so you are not along! - lol
well, thank the Goddesses for Fran!
lol, lol, if it's not cheese it's cereal, do i detect a pattern here...veerrry interesting **she said in a mock German accent, not a very good one i may add**...i'm thinking that perhaps Fran should stock up on a good supply of anchovies...honestly i think you guys WEAR more food than you eat!
well, dear little Prince, hang in there...what doesn't kill us makes us stronger as my daughter's friend likes to say...and you can always e-mail me...i know it is not the same as talking to someone in the moment and in the real time...and don't forget your art...
luv etc,
"auntie" pj
It wasn't so much disturbing as familiar...I can still hear the same voice in my head when I read things like that (voice mentioned in far earlier posts), but wow! Powerful writing. I can't write narratives like that, though I have little perspective on things like that...even though I've experienced it, I feel too afraid of it to write much about it.
And bonzai! I made an ass of myself, and for that I am proud.
I think Lance forgave me, however, because a couple of minutes ago he stuck a peice of lined paper in my face and it had a naughty drawing of us on it. He said, "Look, we're having sex!" and then he pulled it away and went downstairs again.
*rolls eyes*
JV
p.s. check out April 12 and 15th i posted those 'specially for you!
HHHAAAAAAAAAA, that's soooo funny, ...the lined paper drawing thing i mean....*she shakes her head and chuckles* - well, that put a smile on my face...that, and the mental picture of the both of you covered in CEREAL (I hope it was Honey Nut Cherios!?)
yes, i know what you mean about the writing, this was a first for me, to put it in the Blog, for thousands (possibly) of people to see...but i'm learning to take my own advise about the therapeutic value of people "bearing witness to your tears"...and the writing and journalizing certainly makes it more real...but believe me, once you have taken the step, things change, change for the better.
Something else has been haunting me tho'; one day i think i will write it in my blog, then the very next day i think NOT...guess i'm just not ready yet. and this is something that happened to me in 1973, i think...i have to check my photo album...*sigh* - BUT, if i do write about it i will put a "CAUTION" note up (i have since edited my post and put one in now, since your comment. which is appreciated...)
but anyway, it is nice to see you back in Blogland, i was beginning to get a bit worried, even asked Chase if she had heard from you!
{Rolling Stones, "Emotional Rescue" on the radio now....love that one!}
glad you seem to be o.k.
cheers for now,
pj
Thanks for the concern, and I think I over-reacted regarding the post...I was upset anyway.
However, I write things that disturb me that I never post or show. Sometimes I go through them and it reminds me to be happy.
JV
NO WORRIES, glad you are feeling better, don't forget to check out April 12 and 15th i posted those 'specially for you!
later babe, take care,
pj
well, i figured that was the only way i was going to get Peeps to you...yeah, and i kinda suspected either you or Lance would apprciate my twisted easter humour.
cheers!
pj
ive been so thinking about you lately i lost your blog id and couldsnt find and there you are on fillys soooo good to know you are okish sending you warm thoughts and hugs.
Wow, thanks... I do appreciate the concern, but don't get TOO worried over me.
;)
JV
we DO worry about you JV, what can i say, perhaps it is the maternal instinct!!!! - i guess i will have to ask dr. deb to consider some kind of forum for "blogger's anxiety" when one of the 'flock' disappear without warning - a new syndrome to contend with eh, like now, we have not heard from dr. dork for awhile, and don't know what is going on with him...one does get concerned...what can i say...we care....
cheers,
pj
Just dropping in to see how you are.
I appreciate it, truely. :p
I get worried when chase goes missing for so long...filly's always flitting around somewhere. ;)
JV
hhhhahh, lol,,,that's meeeee ...flitting fil...heh heh...*sign*....
and yeah, that BIG C Mr. H, is driving everyone crazy...sillly ass that he is! ...but SOMEBODY voted for him...so...
well, i have too much time on my hands, i'm so used to working and keeping busy...and now...well, hopefully i will be going back to school soon.
luv ya,
pj (a.k.a. "filly" - ahhh, you've guessed my hidden identity!)
At least he's minority gov't, the bastard baby-eater. (Lance and I have assumed and agreed that he probably eats children, kicks puppies and the like)...
Good luck with school (even though I hate it personally)
JV
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