SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13th, 2007
HAVE THIS TALE TO TELL, that isn’t easy to relate. The subject (one point in it), is about “suicide”, and that has always been a “sensitive” one for me. I was once asked by my friend Tim Kahle: “Have You Ever Thought About Killing Yourself?” because, he said, I always seemed so frustrated. I told him that, “suicide is definitely OUT of the question”, and so that was that. At the time, I believed in GOD and that that was the deal there where you didn’t do that sort of thing, etc. I didn’t explain that to him or any thing but there you are. I remember walking down the street once screaming up at the heavens for god to kill me or something like that. I don’t know what I was pissed at, but, was angry and wanted things to end…I didn’t know Tim at the time. This was way before I’d even left Eader Elementary School. In fact, it was on the way to it with a friend or something…maybe on my way home or something, on the next housing tract over and it was raining or something and I shouted up at the sky and cursed or damned or something and I was cautioned by a friend and I stopped and sort of just ran mute a moment…considering what my friend had said. It cooled me off. He said something about not doing that or something. I don’t know….don’t know who it was or what was said or any thing now. Nothing. I recall nothing from that but what I’ve told you just now.
What I want to write, and put in a blog, is a bit painful, because it mentions the topic of suicide and goes on to other things and all and it’s not the whole point of every thing, but, it’s there and is a very real and sensitive thing for me.
I used to not want to read things from authors who killed themselves, because I thought it would rub off on me. Though I know very well that good can come from bad/sad things people do and all and that that isn’t the full measure of a person, an artist who decided somehow to end their life, reject the gift and all its facets, and end it…and I just…I don’t know; I’ve never been there and I hope right now I NEVER do get to or am ever IN that circumstance. I hope to never EVER be there. EVER!
Now, whatever this is, the current journal entry being written and that you are reading now, and or the “essay” I may or may not be able to conceive in cyberspace, it’s not every thing; it is only just a mere participle, a brief wisp or vapor of what I’ve been able to find, and then, to describe in my words using what god/fate/whatever given power or “talent” I have for “insight” or capability for composing WORDS, in such a “fashion”, so as to come (maybe) somewhat close, to what I have in mind, to “describe” what I think/feel, that “life” is. Its essence. That’s really all of what I want to do and I want others to think that hey; this guy was really able to express himself well, and, had some kind of wow “handle” on what life really is. That’s really all I want in life. That’s the basic “gist” or nut of it. Course, it’d be FANTASTIC too, to be able to sell it and not have to work these stupid “jobs” and all. To be able to do something that people write about me on in the newspapers that people read and all. Yeah, that’s what I want. Hope is, I can do that and with that “notoriety”, also be able to make some changes at large for the world when I’m there and esp. sic., for when I’m gone. Some kind of “cause” or something.
Though feeling pressed, today was a terrifically “successful” day, and I got a HELL of a LOT done. I mean, sheesh, you wouldn’t believe. I bought even more Parker Jotter Ballpoint Pens. None of which I need. One Avocado Green and One Brown and a journal and a pool part or 2 and some food here and there and though my Bronchitis or whatever is with me still these 4 weeks, I’ve put in some more movie viewing and pool maintenance and all, and I’m very proud of myself, though I would have loved to have just been able to have sat down and read myself silly the whole day. What would I have written? I need more time. We all do. It’s crazy. What do I do? What does any one do?
I don’t have the same constraints that others my age have or younger than me do. I don’t want what the bulk of people my age have. I’d rather have what folks who are way younger and who read and write and get published and get movies made of their words and get some time on film get…I want what they have. I’m sorry, but that is what it is. That is what it is all about for me. That’s what I want, who I am and every thing such as this.
Hope to write something about a journal entry or three I’ve a rough draft of, in a day or so, and I hope as well, to have a addition to the blog where I said I would have photos of the Lazarus book? Well, I hope to have them and to end that saga of my work with my old friend Carmina Crittenden, now, something else, which escapes me at the moment, conveniently. She’s married and has a lovely daughter, and like her brother TED, will I’m sure remain removed from me and my sphere of influence, a two-way street which, I think closed with the altering of their lives into marriage, I’m sad to say, much like some other people I know that got married. Sad. Too Bad. Oh Well.
It would have been best in life to have worked with both Ted and Carmina continuously throughout the rest of our lives. Now, it seems to me, this will never happen. Someone else I know from away far away, both in time and in distance, will never work out either. In my life, this is how it IS. I don’t have a “reality” like every one else’s. Definitely not like they have it in the movies. That is a fucking farce.