Image by Bea Douglas, from Photobucket.com
Finally, on this evening when we lose an hour of darkness in trade for light – Now, I am ready to write.
I have all my necessary tools for writing – pen. Paper. Music. Rain (and the silences in between). Light. And seated, I am poised towards my drink.
Ah, today it is my drink that merely only serves to calm me, to soothe my nerves; my bouncing leg, my constant motion. Because, at some point – I actually HAVE to STOP.
Stop, and sit.
"Be still," I say to myself, as mothers say to their squirmy children.
Something arises within me, maybe – it is my spine, finally fully evolving and becoming rigid. Something; a shifted gear; a new level; different energies. This thing has arrived in timely fashion, I must say. Served up as daily awakening, the energy that I feel – angsty, nervous and anxious – Only yielding my often uninhibited need to constantly be moving. Active. A new door has opened in front of me now. Though this anxiety and angst still remain, I feel less powerless and more of a powerful source; a valuable asset.
Cocky?
No, but indeed confident. You sometimes have to be just twisted enough to be totally confident. Not arrogant – confidence. That fine line, like genius and insanity. Maybe that is what Mr. Johnny Cash meant when he walked the line. I feel like I also am always towing the line myself. One day brings madness, breakdowns and tears, while the next waking morning greets me with a cocky handshake and with a look of challenge in its eyes. On a good day – I can conquer the world. Now, if only I could control my own…
Strange visions have encapsulated my thoughts. Visions of disapproving figures, cloaked in shadows, but their eyes shining bright with disgust; with a cautious, wandering eye – warning me or perhaps, trying to protect me – maybe from myself. I only see them in the most desperate of times. Guardians, maybe – but definitely not angels...
Drifting back to reality – I have just lost an hour to the night – actually to the dawn. That bargain of dark for light. Angels and demons. Thoughts versus actions.
These thoughts that tend to consume me -
My voice, screaming free – loud and demanding; belting out my own words and also words to songs that have changed who I am.
These,
are things that are most important sometimes. Memories. Songs are memories, and music is life set to a rhythm.
The feeling of that rising in your throat, that triggers your brain into confusion – do you scream? Sing? Cry? Let's do it all, what the hell.
I feel a fury to carve words into the trees and the concrete; chiseled angrily, splintered into splinters - Shattering layers and years, breaking open new ground…shedding new tears and old skin.
A bargain.
HI, my name is Kerri,
And I am:
Indecisive
but firm.
Outspoken
but still silenced.
Loving
but not affectionate.
Rigid and stubborn
but I can be easily swayed.
Selfless
but selfish.
Motivated
but suspended in routine.
Strong
but weak.
Confident
But so very insecure.
Real –
-and that is no shit-
I can learn anything
but sometimes refuse to learn.
Patient
but in a hurry.
Addictive, in my personality-
but loud in speaking of having a clear mind.
I Can Be:
Contradicting
Condescending.
Defensive…
And never realize it until it's too late.
I am happy
But I am always really
Sad.
Susceptible to the energy of others, I feel pain and I give mine away. And I receive all of everyone's pain that they expose to me.
If I Love you –
I will show you, though I am confusing in my methods.
My heart is huge
My soul is receptive
But I can seem cold and distant; disconnected, even.
And that is usually what it is –
I am disconnected.
"I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad – the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I ever had…I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take. When people run in circles, it's a very, very – Mad World…"
- "Mad World" by Gary Jules, from the movie Donnie Darko –
NEW DAY – MARCH 14, 2010
10:51 P.M.
Listening to: Atmosphere "In Your Glass House"
from the album When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold"
"Looking at a phone full of missed calls – probably all the people that you pissed off…
Everything seems so sour
So you force yourself into the shower-
Can't do it
Better sit
And let the tongue be the catcher's mitt…
Lay down; face down
Thank God whoever lives here ain't around.
Now what you need is silence
And you don't want no one to see you like this
Maybe you don't recognize it –
But
This is your home, this is where your life lives…
(All we need is 'because' – come and party with us-
Take care of you when you're passed out
Right there with you in your glass house…"
<insert random thought/lyric>
"When I am King – you will be first against the wall. With your opinion, which is of no consequence at all." (Radiohead / Paranoid Android/)
AH – this new day which has seemingly evaporated quickly into night – my emotions run wild.
Is this the lack of an SSRI? It's been since Thursday morning, the last dose – now it is Sunday, nearly early Monday morning. 11:05 p.m.
I still feel the anxiety. The need. A longing. Need to scream. To sing. To know how to play guitar and play the strings as if I were strumming my soul like a harpsichord. So, one more time, I feel like saying:
"Hi.
I'm Kerri, and I am:
Unstable
But am demanded to provide solid ground on a daily basis.
HI, I'm KeRrI!!!!
And I replace One thing – for AnOThER!
I'm a saucerful of secrets
An unopened box
A SuRpRiSE.
A Disappointment
Why????
Maybe I'm not really such a disappoinmentt. But perhaps, I am more disappointed than anything else. Maybe…
(now listening: The Mars Volta "The Widow" from Frances The Mute)
A little while later…
It's always really, really cool when you "come-to" (which, essentially, is what most people call 'waking up') at 3:30 a.m., on the kitchen table.
Oh lord.
How long have I been laying on the fresh ink from my pen, after it spewed words all over the previous page. The shaker that once held my vodka (but not much vodka – I drank most of it) – was now lying on it's side and spilled all over my papers…my hands…my pants.
Time to change. Clothes, that is.
I slip upstairs, at nearly 4 a.m., catlike –quiet, wide-eyed and floating…
New pants, underwear, andddddd – go!
I am struck with the urge to paint – once again. This time, I actually consider doing it – this time…
Back in the kitchen, I wipe the table, grab my vodka-soaked papers, a guitar (which I later discovered was missing the top three strings…hmm…), an i-phone, a pen, a jacket….
Then I drink the final shot of vodka.
Moving to the basement, the spot under the stairs, that is the most sought-out spot in the house.
I set up the table with my new, non-drinking essentials. It is 4:35 in the morning. I pack a glass pipe with some weed left over from a joint that was smoked earlier that evening. Crush a muscle relaxer I found in the dryer…Turn on Pink Floyd. And then, I write:
"Splatter paint
Like brains
On the back of the walls in my head
Forward thoughts
And grounded controls
And little girls fall into rabbit holes
And eyes that open to the light
Will only close
When darkness rise
We'll pull the covers
Over night
And shut out all the natural light
And this, should help
To quell your lies
When morning comes
Is when the trial does…
Dreams of skin
Waking to no one
That can
Someone, share my pain
For only a moment
Because any longer
May drive you away
A taste of madness
A drink to (s)top it
Something always takes the place
Of another ToXiN
When I swim away, I'm really drowning
Feeling like I'm consumed
Fluid fills my lungs
I'm surrounded; feeling doomed
Drug down
Cement blocks on my ankles
I think – I sink, when I drink -?
What do You say?
Anything to aggravate the pain,
…grind that tooth, peel that skin…
Drive it deeper
Until I say to stop
Feeling numb until
The nerves pop
Hello –
Who are you,
Anymore?
And where is the girl who lived here before?
Something seems different
Nothing is the same-
Everything is different now,
Except for my name.
Ah, (yet another) new day (that I made it to) 3-15-2010; 3 p.m.-ish
Nightly images produced
By my restless mind
These images frantically push their way through my waking self, into my resting spirit, and again – into my waking world.
But it is only that –
The waking world
Not my waking self.
Because Me and I, well, we became unacquainted these past few days.
Listening to rain and waiting for these images to go away.
What do these dreams mean?????
