09-04-2010
1:15 a.m.

Early Saturday morning. Myself, and the dog are awake.
We are
the only ones.
Today's word is: survival.
And with that, comes recognizance of things said, and done.
I'm sorry.
I've drug my past into my present, though it was without consciousness. Fuck.
This beautiful, talented, and heavy-hearted soul across from me -
I am sorry that I said some things to him that he did NOT deserve. I love him, and I think (know) he is beautiful!
He doesn’t try as hard as I anticipate. Yet, he does try to deal (with ME)! And that, is not always easy.
 I want nothing more than to be able to be of some sort of help to him. But I don't know if I am a good influence - alot of the time.
I want to take him, and ravage him, but, at times, he doesn't seem to want that. Which is strange. Probably a misconception, but I always thought that men wanted sex every day, maybe a few times a day.
I love him, so so much. But at times, he makes me so fucking MAD!! Insane-Mad, not angry. I love others more than myself at times....

_weird ending_



Copyright K. Anne Smith

Last Day On The Island...Coming Home

8-27-2010
1:39 p.m.

    Last day on the island. I am worrying about finding a surgeon to mend the wounds in my fAcE and am not having much luck. These people, that have been referred to me - are WorthLess!
I've decided that I should write about something different, fromnow on, I suppose...
I guess it's time to quit moaning and re-reading the moaning, and write things that I'll find at least mildly amusing when I gain enough sobriety to look over them.
My skin seems much thinner and whiter now, more than it was before I left. I see alot of green, blue, purple...reds... Bruises.
All over my legs.
And face.

Ladies; gentlemen-
I've found that it is a bad idea to down a liter of vodka then try to do stunts on bikes.
It ruins clothes.
Breaks jaws and teeth.
Puts stitches in your face.
But I can, still and will always -
LAUGH ABOUT IT.
Even when it hurts to smile, I will be laughing, quite hysterically.
Because it's stupid. And funny.
NOW, my only mission, before anything else is to plug in my phone to see if I got some good shots of the ground as we came together and kissed....Probably not. Then, the next step is to find some drugs, just so I can better deal with, well- life.
Thinking of selfish things now, and I am nearly positive that my other half is thinking selfishly as well. It seems pretty routine for him.  I want a beer, some medication, and some cock. And THIS time, I actually want to be pounded into until I scream and can't take it any longer; collapsing into a satisfied pile, with a cigarette and a drink.
But I forgot - almost- that life is around the bend, we're almost there; the gap between there and here is closing. It's back to work, back to some type of responsibility, and that sense of despair. Hopeless hope.  I only hope someone near me has a huge, fat joint to smoke.

The End.



Copyright K. Anne Smith

Yes, The Beach was inspiring...or maybe it was the alcohol...

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June 15, 2010

11 a.m.to Noonish

Surrounded by souls in limbo

I can’t level out my thoughts

Don’t want to stay here

I only want to GO

The fear; the lump in my throat

Choking me; choking on the wishbone

Furiously scribbling

Ready to stab my frustrations into this notebook

Can’t keep up; my fingers, slower than the whirlwind in my head

Some fury builds by the second,

And second guessing my own self

Won’t ever happen again

Because I’ve FOUND MYSELF

AND WHERE ARE YOU AT??

Miserable in Misery

Misery loves company

The resistance is lessening

Tolerance is wearing thin

I’ve opened myself to the beach breezes

Pulled my head from the cloudiness of repression

Watch these waves crash on the sand

And I think of myself

My soul; endless, just like the sea in front of me

Crashing hard, knocking down the weak

Who can’t stand on their own two feet

I’m stronger than you think

You think I’m some kind of addict

But you aren’t without your own bad habits

Being a pessimistic, pissy-ass outlooker

Everyday

Hate it all

But things won’t change; they don’t go away

I’ll embrace

The way I am

And you can’t change

ANYTHING

About that

Again.

_{++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++}

_{OH NO!!!!!!!!!}

Looks like this will be a battle

Of who can be the biggest asshole

I think I’ll take the winnings on this one

And one, I am - with myself

-at times-

But no under scrutiny from people who are supposed to be

On my side

My family

Mi familia - so strange; foreign to me even.

Carrying different energies

I don’t need no one to hold my hand

Or tell me what I need

And what I don’t

I’m in charge of my own karmic wheel of fate

No intervention

No shit - bullshit, I don’t need it

It’s never too late

Not changing anything about me

For anyone but myself

Never have to please anyone; not NOW

I channel my energy into dust around me

It will illuminate my spirit when it’s my time

To be held to the light

And I’m not see-through

I’ll shine on

As a crazy diamond in this sky. I’m not laying down to die

I’ll never do so willingly

I’ll never be

What you think I should be

Fuck THIS.

I wonder - is today my 15^th birthday ?Or maybe a not-so-sweet sixteen?? ‘Cause I feel like I’m grounded and hiding behind a smokescreen.

Hmm….wonder WHY I need something to stay CALM and collected…

Let’s just watch as the

obseSsiVeNeSs gets worse

and the ComPuLSiOnS grow stronger …

And my hair becomes ThiNnER

And my eyes become strained

And my soul is stretched from one corner to another

And I’m wearing thin

I’m wearing out

I’m getting sick to myself

Living in this crawling skin

The Cortex is malfunctioning

Brainwaves inconsistent; not predictable, like the ones (waves) I see in front of me

Hiding behind clouds, is the sun

I try to remember that it’s always there…

But NOW, I don’t want to be strong

Don’t really want to CARE

I’m rambling, and don’t know who listens

Or cares

Don’t care either

Ready to roll into north bound mode

Or drown in the sea, and wash away these things :

that won’t be forgiven

That no one takes the time to listen to

Waste of time

And breath

Wasting away

Geez, yah, you’ve cracked that beer and poured that drink

Awfully early today

Who needs help?

I’m your little mold, remember? Your cookie cutter kid

See, you made this mess

By only being yourself

Now, fucking DEAL WITH IT

“No one can save me, and you know I don’t want the attention…”

So Leave me be

To burn

To learn

To seek and destroy

Time for intermission

Time for Me

To lay it on the line

Time is running out

And patience is running thin

And I’ll unlock the door

To let myself OUT

The day you’ll let me IN.

Ahhhh, the feeling of the ocean air...my head gone numb, and sweet, sweet insanity!

June 17, 2010

3 a.m.; on the beach in North Myrtle, S.C.

Sitting on the sandbar

Sipping on some relief-bearing drinks

This endless ocean in front of me

When will these waves swallow me whole? Or will they at all?

My eye on the north star

In fluid thought, fueled by fluid

I’ve floated rather far

Sand beneath me

And sky overhead

The stars, they guide me

The lightning; my light

(this is a night for my head to be cleared)

On this beach -

I could live here

And die here

But I need you with me FirST

The air in my hair

This vast empty darkness in front of me

So full of life, unseen

Insomnia has me, once again…

Drinking; again.

But awake.

Wide awake. Not wanting to miss the night.

The night, and it’s silences

Are my companion,

My guide,

As always…

3:35 a.m. Still Beachfront, sitting in front of the Atlantic Breeze Hotel…

Vodka, gone.

Two beers down.

Tokiin’ over the line (sweet jesus).

….Sitting here in my solitude

I have my music (now listening: The Mars Volta - Televators)

I have  nearly everything that I’ll ever need. So I wonder - if this precise, singular, solitary, isolated and personal moment -

Could REALLY be good enough for me

Som e of m y favorite things in front of me-

I have m y crutches ( my hang-ups; fixes ,fuck-ups, etc.)

Here with m e

I can finally  unleash my inner demons

They’ve been pent up

A ll day.

“Pull the pins…”

                        (save m e)

“…..save your gra ce…”

                     (may I be redeemed?)

“…mark these words on his grave…”

                     (or will these crutches trip me and put those words                                            in  stone?)

I’m thinking that the only point of being is the pursuit of the sanctity that I have searched for countless times before.

My companions - my:

                           Music.

                           Pen.

                            Paper.

                           Crutches.

                           (god damn these crutches)

I’m not standing out

I’m trying really hard to blend in. One with Earth and Nature.

Respectful of it, and appreciative.

That’s how I want to blend in - mesh together with the sand and sea (night three).

I’m glad that I’ve gotten this opportunity

To basically make sweet, passionate, hot, sweaty LOVE

To myself.

By pleasuring and reconditioning my very soul;

And drenching it -

Actually - completely submersing it

With alcohol

And cigarettes and the weed (the weed, man - it eases my soul)

And the sounds of the sun, and a portal another world, all in front of me.

I am completely oblivious to anything else besides being calm and feeling drunk (satisfied) and not giving

                                         2 fucks

                     About who’s around me

                     Or what they’re doing

              We’re merely passer-bys.

At last, (actually, once again) I sit alone and feel completely ALIVE

And revitalized.
COULD this be

What the beginning of peace feels like?

Darshan.

“Ultimate contentment” in Hindu…

Is it possible -

At all -

That I have begun to reach a point of satisfaction that results in my happiness?

Sure.

Of course!!!!

I give thanks and great praise to our mother; nature - Earth, for allowing the solitude and peacefulness that brought me to this place.

I have now officially separated myself from well, everything -

And had a total spiritual thing  with nature.

And myself.

I’m beginning to learn that our shortcomings all weigh out along the way. They are the result of other emotions, turned to stronger emotions, which will often lead to misunderstandings

And complex, weird

       Utterly overwhelming

       FRUSTRATION about those very things- the shortcomings of others.

It’s all cake at the end of the day….

              ******************************

                           ***************

This notebook is damp. Moist from the ocean air. And about right now, I sort of wish I had someone here that could take a picture of me at this near total contentment . And I can’t help but to think of a photo of someone whom I hold highly in rank of influence on the writing side of my life -

                     Dr. Hunter S. Thompson.

In said photo, HST is sitting cross-legged on the beach, cigarette in hand, beers in tow, as he looks away from the camera.

This, is what I have just reminded myself of - (As I), sitting cross-legged on the beach with my drinks, beers, a cigarette in one hand, and a pen in the other -

Looking ahead into the sky and everything surrounding me…

Looking, overly sarcastic and menacingly - at the sky; the intermittent lightning and at the people who walk by.

Back to HST -

(He was) A loud voice, and an individual.

                     -but-

I know that he never wanted what he got. Most of it, yes. But not totally wanting everything else; not in every way.

“Because the devil, was an angel too…”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I WISH that you were here, or that you could at least see me RIGHT now -

I’m a little…

                     Not sober

I’m pretty, well…happy…

And covered in sand . And time is approaching, near and nearer. Soon, I’ll get to have my baby’s beautiful body in my arms, again.

I once heard that “absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

I think of Oliver Stone’s ‘Natural Born Killers’ and Patsy Cline’s “Back in Baby’s Arms”.

              “When them people come here and ask you who done this,

              You tell ‘em - ‘Mickey and Mallory Knox did it! Say it!”

A truly twisted design in the movies that are based on the tangles of love. A fantastic story.

**Insert Big hugE Time Gap HerE***

OH, this night

I’m trying to write

But I am flooded with thoughts in rapid fire succession instead.

I love you, Todd Jacob Williams!!!!

And how I wish; how I wish you were here (we’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl OR are we just two misfits that no one else gets?)

HOW I WISH YOU WERe HERE!!!!!

You shou ld  be sitting here in sand with m e…

We could pretend

That we are making our own “Wicked Games” video and be connected and consumed

              By love

                           And Sand…

(Tonight, I write)

              I LOVE YOU

(and don’t worry ‘bout a thing…Cause every little  things gonna  be  a lright)

You are      m y hope

                My  lust

                My  love

                My dope

If   I ca n have YOU

Then, I ca n be ME

And   now, it’s a bout 5 a.m. .a nd  it’s tim e to   leave this beach.

- fin-

Copyright K. Anne Smith

Beaches, Night Skies and.....Drinks, of course!

At Myrtle Beach…

June 18, 2010

6:52 a.m.

Up all night and still awake. Same deal as the night before, except that I’m completely sober this evening (or morning). Restless, restless. Fidgety legs and hands and fingers. Fluttering eyelashes with wide open eyelids. I am becoming a little worried about a few things. I have had no medicine to keep my brain from feeling overloaded and very strange. I can feel my heart skipping beats. Palpitations, growing frequent and more pronounced as moments pass. There’s the tightening feeling in my chest, and the air becomes thicker as my breathing becomes seemingly more and more labored and heavy.

Hopefully, it will pass as I allow the skin to slip over my eyes and hope for a better feeling when I awake…

Copyright K. Anne Smith

So It's been a long time....

But there Will be more to come... I know you're all excited, and amped to list your reactions as "dumb".

The End.

Chutes and Ladders; Checkmate, Losing the Game Of Life

7-6-2010
3:41 p.m.

Sometime today, probably about 12 hours ago - I started to reconsider some things that I do on a daily basis. Began, perhaps - to gain some kind of insight; like, you know, I got the ‘outside looking in” perspective. Scary stuff.

Someone told me before to write standing up… Like peeing, I suppose… I guess it’s supposed to maybe get the juices flowing. It seems, that it works.
Thanks, Joe.

Incredible reminissions of life-living capabilities or rather, incapabilities - are flooding my mind.

Once again, it’s Day 4 of me not having my 40 mg. Celexa; my SSRI (selective sanity repressing inhibitor)…
100,000 thoughts per minute to about 100 million now…

I’m feeling like motivation is hiding somewhere in chemical form, but that itself is just the illusion.
Was I better without them? I suppose that it depends on which ones we are talking about.
At times, shortly after awakening, I think of:
            Pills
        Weed            Cigarettes   
            Alcohol

Something to make it better. But it’s only made me worse. Discontent; constant discontent.
I AM happy,
        But I am troubled, by myself.
PERHAPS, Rehab isn’t the solution, but maybe counseling, or at least some recognition of my new lease on life should do the trick.
I feel:
        Lackadaisical
    Hopeful, yet unmotivated.
Out of shape
        Out of touch
    (Out of exile??)

The anxiousness has slowly crept back in, seeping through the cracks. I’ve found myself grinding my teeth; repressing thoughts - avoiding thoughts…Gritting my teeth even harder, until my jaw becomes sore.
           
            Deep breaths.
        Deep, deep breaths.
At times, I can only get up and walk around, breathing deeply and holding my head in my hands…
        I hate feeling like this.
I should feel like I always used to - but yet, THAT is a Catch 22.
Minus so much consumption of: alcohol, nicotine…anything else (just about, but not exactly). I used to feel the energy of having energy. But that energy was based in anxiety and nervousness. I’m thinking that my hands always need to be busy, to slow down the brain, maybe…

    I feel frumpy and sluggish and out of shape.
Bloated.
Thick.
I’m beginning to dwell on self-conscious, negative thoughts, even though I’ve got a beautiful soul who tells me everyday that I’m beautiful and sexy and makes me feel wanted.
I guess this may always be my struggle.
The man in the chair, in the corner of my mind…
The thought of Darshan; of peace.
I think of millions of coping strategies, but can only do a few things -
            Breath (deeply)
                        And pace   
                            And tug at hair.
But the anxiety only builds from there.
AND SO, I resort to my old friends, pen and paper.
Something is telling me to go outside and sweat. Exercise. Do something useful or productive. But, here I sit, in the corner of a dimly lit room, barricaded from the outside.
I’ve got many triggers it seems. Triggers, just like the one that pulls the hammer down…
BAM!

Waking to intense brain activity, I only want it to slow,
    BUT I FEED IT!!!!
        YES! --
Let’s take all that nervous energy and add a ton of stiMULAtIoN to it - like nicotine and caffeine and then try to dumb it down, with chemical elation.

        “Kill your health, and kill yourself and kill   everything you love…”
                (the burden in my hand)
WHAT a perfect description of my current state of mind. Killing my health. I have to change the ways of certain things I am always inclined to do. Like smoke and consume and do anything to make my head feel better but the GOD DAMNED THING about ALL of it is that it’s always something FUCKING NEGATIVE!
Bad JuJu!
There it is again, clenching my teeth together and if you, ghost reader - could see the actual handwriting on this page -
It is stabbed into paper, through several sheets, there are still impressions of pen marks.
I am sweating profusely and my frontal lobe of my brain is twisting (or so it feels like) around, no aching involved really, other than the fact that this is driving me INSANE.
I’m sweating and can nearly SEE the toxinsl I can almost taste them through the smell of persperation.
But yet, I’m much, much better than I was nearly a year ago…About nine months ago, the choice way to wake and start the day was espresso and opiates.
    Lots of both.
    But usually more opiates.
Sometimes, they were more plentiful and available than coffee.
AND, with my personality, I say:
            “YESSSSSSS, I would LOVE to InGest Some                             ChemICALS!”
Then, eventually, I realized the misery my soul was morphing through…And I quit. For a little bit.
(Remember, it’s always just for a little bit).
I think that I need to quit doing things. But then (of course), I think “well what fun would life be without drinking or other things?”
Of course. THAT is the whole problem.
Everyday, we must learn to live with things as well as WITHOUT them too.
Ups and downs.
Chutes and ladders…
Checkmate.
Game of Life…
(ShuT UP)

I usually never put too much stock in things like mood rings, but today - the usually bright green and blue ring has turned a dark, dark, ominous blue-black color… I suppose my energy, the actual, physiological changes that occur when our brain chemicals are out of whack are affected by this…Maybe - it’s “ancient Chinese secret”.

            ---------------------------------
When I woke, I thought of two things:
1. “Maybe I have some money in the account today”
2. “Maybe….I can find some good pills today, too…”

Bad, Bad thoughts.
BAD JUJU!

It’s Page 5 now. Current, random thought:
                Can’t breathe.
                But now, I want to SMOKE something. Looking for a notebook that contained a long-gone thought…Thinking of music I want to hear but can’t find…
Thinking about how everyone is asking me if I’ve put on weight - (stop)
Feeling self-conscious. Feelign the need to cloak myself; to hide. But, we’ve already talked about that.
I need something to occupy these “devils playgrounds” of hands, but for now, they only keep writing; keep pouring out spew and shit and mean words; bad thoughts, directed at myself.
Totally overwhelmed.
Repetitive.
And, I’ve found the notebook, and the thought that I had previously captured. It’s suiting to the repitition part of this, this insanity; this madness…

    “I feel a fury - to carve words
                    Into the trees
                    Into the concrete
    Chiseled angrily; splintered unto splinters…
    Shattering layers and years;
    Breaking open new ground
    Shedding new tears
    And old skin…”

-fin-






Copyright K. Anne Smith