Sundial

typewriter

My mind is a shadow cast by my soul, mirrored in conscious reflection
The price of my words compensates through direction of deflection
Mortality reigns, restrains and contains , the vitality flowing through my heart
How do I proceed , gathering what I need without knowing where to start?
Taking steps to measure the depths of my pleasure, guided by pure prescience
Desire defined, absolutely confined, deferring to obedience

Lust For Life

Robot Brain

“You’re a shotgun – bang! What’s up with that thang?
I wanna know how does it hang?
Straight up, wait up, hold up, Mr. Lover
Like Prince said you’re a sexy mutha-“

“Shoop” Salt-N-Pepa

Last week I was embarrassed by doing something stupid and yesterday I was kicking myself for not doing something stupid. Can you guess where I was?

While I was in there I was laughing about deleting the dating apps. One of the funny things I kept thinking because I see it so often, (I don’t know if men say the same) every woman puts in their bio, they are looking for adventure. I can imagine the adventure they were having on the couch swiping and typing when they wrote that.

I had more adventure at fucking Panera all week. That’s why I keep going. Last week would have been funnier if I someone else had done it. It wasn’t that bad. It was pretty clever to come up with on the spot. I just didn’t notice she was wearing earbuds and couldn’t hear me. I’m still laughing.

Memory of that is what stilted me Saturday. I don’t know. I’m still confused. There were about 50 people in there. Never before. I took one of the last seats but it was perfect because I go there to people watch and I could see the whole place. There was another beautiful woman way across in the other corner. But what am I going to do stare at her the whole time? There were some weird people doing weird things. I’m the weirdest but nobody notices because they don’t watch people like I do.

(Skip ahead) I noticed my new dream girl had left. I don’t care, what else am I going to do? Sit at home and try to type a journal before the day begins? I look up and she hadn’t left, she was coming back with her food. It was funny because she was taking baby steps, holding her tray steady, trying not to spill her soup. She looked up and smiled, I smiled back, so what, it was a little funny. I keep doing my thing, looking around, drinking coffee. (Coffee in the afternoon is just my excuse to leave the house.) I turn back and she hadn’t returned to the corner. She stopped at the table in front of me with four chairs and picked the one facing me and is big smiling already before noticed. I returned it but I’m all screwed up about being embarrassed the other day. Now that I think back I should have said something, she was only ten feet away. But what? I was tongue tied and I can’t figure out if she is smiling at me because I’m a nice, harmless old man? I’m 52, I look older, she can’t be more than 30… I am harmless but not always so nice.

She left. What has me all fucked up doing this shit is the article I read this summer… “How to meet men over fifty.” It was long, detailed article. Go to home depot in the afternoon, shit like that.. That is what fucked me all up. Like. I’m 50, I’m right here. I read another article by a guy saying the same thing. Don’t go to bars. Go to the grocery store when people are shopping after they get out of work. I can’t do that, but I can sit there and drink coffee.

I left my house around 2 and by the time I was done it was pitch black. Like it was only 4:30! No way am I going home. It was 50 degrees! November. (This is where I left of Sunday but you know my life is a never ending story.

Nobody would believe what happened at 8am this Tuesday morning so I’m not telling anyone. But you can imagine why I chose the lyrics to start off this post.

I got big plans tonight. This weekend I was freakin’ I got to get of this town! It’s true. I realized I lived her 8 years and the only people I talk to aren’t from this town. Saturday I tried searching housing but 4 apartments on the conglomeration websites. The same 4? Sunday I found the website where you type in any town in the country and it shows the approved housing there. They have 1100 apartments in Portsmouth within walking distance of downtown. They all have waiting lists and there is no set length of time. I had it in my head I couldn’t move until my daughter turns 18 but she is driving and I have Uber. I was lucky because I forgot about waiting lists. This could work perfectly.

My plans. I have to get out of this town for at least a few hours. I went on meetup.com and there was a Ghostbusters watching party but it was 3 people who called themselves “Geeks.” I was thinking it’s weird how so many people express their individuality in exactly the same way. They all like Comic books, Star Wars, Anime, etc… A geek is someone who has is own things going on. I am a geek. I don’t mean I am unique but you know. Then there was this weird thing a guy had about the men teach the woman how to cook. Sounded good but it was just him and another woman. I joined and an hour later I got an email saying the event was cancelled due to lack of interest. The I saw I had another email that looked like it was from his group with his name transferring hosting responsibilities to me and click the link if interested. I clicked but then asked him why he cancelled and turned it to me? He said he had no idea what I was talking about.

My thinking is single people want to meet around the holidays. I know because I am single. Also almost every year some woman I barely know texts wondering what I have been up to.

Then I found Tuesday night $5 burger night at a bar in Salisbury. I wasn’t going to join because it is at a bar but I feel confident about not drinking. (I hope) Last summer I knew I was fooling myself and would catch myself at the last minute saying, You know you can’t go into a bar and not drink. Now it feels different. I don’t feel over confident. I just don’t want to drink. The second reason I wasn’t going to join was it is a private group. I don’t understand. I just clicked it and had to answer basic questions, like, do I agree to follow the guidelines, etc… An hour later I got an email saying I was “approved”. I looked at the event and it was me and another guy and six women! I told you about holidays. I checked again today and the other guy had dropped out and a woman took his place. If I go it will be me and seven women! I feel weird because they do it every week but it’s not the same people every week so who knows. I don’t want to be the only stranger. Who knows? Maybe they are all married but why would they be going to a bar without…. Yeah, that happens but why am I invited. I’m not saying I am going to hook up but I will be able to talk to actual people. And seven women! I have to go.

I feel pretty good about going to a bar. I am confident I can be “diet coke” guy and nobody will care. It goes from 6 to 8pm and the bar/ restaurant closes at 9pm. I feel different. I quit drinking for a long stretch but it would be a struggle sometimes. I’ve been through a few things the past 3 weeks that would have been giving me thoughts but it takes less than a minute and I forget about it. Plus I don’t think it would be a good first impression.

Wish me luck, lol

Titleist

Robot Brain

“I’ll be your chauffeur on a midnight drive
It takes a miracle just to survive”

“Nicotine and Gravy” Beck

It took me six hours to write my post last night and I got it all wrong. I just gave up around 5am. I forgot the story I was trying to tell. I kept getting up, walking around my apartment, laughing about how I was worried I might run out of stories when I started this blog. I even made a long list of topics I haven’t written about yet.

It was supposed to be a snapshot of my aunt but I was laughing too hard wondering how the hell did I forget about this story? I suppose it informs a lot about my outlook on life. How many kids grew up in a bar with a secret strip joint in the back. Maybe it’s not so funny. It’s the absurdity of it all. I remember seeing the door swing shut and catching glimpses of half naked women and not thinking twice about it. Well, I thought twice but not appropriate thoughts for a seven year old.

So much has happened since, it’s just so funny. I know I tell a lot of stories that start in a bar but I spent more time in bars not drinking before the age of ten than I spent in bars legally. I didn’t even go to a bar for my 21st birthday.

I was getting the giggles about searching for a picture of the outside but all I could find was that flyer. It’s the only evidence I found that the place existed. It was advertised as a collector’s item. I went to the website to find how much they were asking and saw I would have to register and PAY for a membership to find out. They weren’t even sure if it was from the sixties or the seventies! They should be paying me. I know exactly when it was proper to drop a dollar on a sixty cent drink. That was a good fucking tip! Forty percent!

I don’t have any money and I still tip like that. I’m not trying to impress anyone. I just know people in service industry depend on tips. I leave 20 percent if someone just does the bare minimum. I don’t know how it is now but it used to be legal to pay servers much less than minimum wage. Someone has to be pretty fucking rude for me to stiff them. They don’t have to kiss my ass or flirt with me. The only times I’ve done it is when I can tell someone assumes for whatever reason, I’m young, or the way I’m dressed, you know… And they throw an attitude. They determined the outcome. In fact I’ve never stiffed anyone. I’ll leave a dime and three pennies on the table just to be a dick. So the know I’m not being cheap or I forgot. ( I forgot where I was going with this too, still laughing)

“Live five years if I take my time,
Ballin’ that jack and a drinkin’ my wine.”

“Easy Wind” Grateful Dead

No, I’m not drinking. I was out walking and remembered being at this dude’s house with my mom when I was 16, there were a few people her age partying in the kitchen and I was in the living room messing around with his acoustic. He kept coming out asking how was doing, do I want a beer? Blow a joint? I’m like, no thanks, I’m straight edge and I’m the designated driver anyway…. It made me laugh, I was the designated driver since I could reach the pedals. (Everything is funny today… Funny?)

“You mean, let me understand this cause, ya know maybe it’s me, I’m a little fucked up maybe, but I’m funny how, I mean funny like I’m a clown, I amuse you? I make you laugh, I’m here to fuckin’ amuse you? What do you mean funny, funny how? How am I funny?” Joe Pesci in Goodfellas

Oh yeah, the dude, he asked if I wanted to keep the guitar and gave me the song book, with the chords and lyrics to the American Beauty album by the Grateful Dead. I knew the “high on cocaine song” we used to sing when we were kids but that was it. I went out and bought it and that’s how I learned to play. I’m listening to it now but I’m not a deadhead. I like some songs, Friend of the Devil is good, “Got a wife in Chino babe and one in Tennessee, First one say she got my child but it don’t look like me.”

(Fuckin’ M==== keeps sending me Youtube links to full length movies she wants me to watch. Like okay, I’ll just drop everything and watch 90 minutes of whatever she’s into at the moment. She said, no pressure, use my intuition. Okay, I did. I know I don’t work but I do things. I’m not saying anything important right now but it’s important to me. I’m expressing myself.)

I’ve been in the vicinity of the Dead many times but I’ve only seen them play live once. It was the end of the weekend and they thought it would be nice to put on an extra slow show. Ugh… We didn’t go for the music, we went to get twisted and people watch. The show I wish I did see was in Worcester, MA. We got a hold of some good shrooms and they played all their faster, rock ‘n roll type songs at double speed. It was frenzied! It was simulcast on radio and people were parked on the city streets with their systems blasting. One of the best concerts I’ve attended.

Oh yeah, my doctor yesterday. I was afraid I would start babbling and I wrote a script to practice. It was nothing complicated. Just a quick check in phone call. He was the one that started babbling! Hey, how you been doing? Pretty good except I had to sit around on this nice day waiting for your dumb ass to call. Aww… Bill, you should have blown me off, I would have blown me off if I were you. I tried to yesterday but your secretary didn’t even open the book and said, nothing for December… Still, you know, yeah, my friend called me today and said he had the “golfer’s flu”, great, I’m stuck in the office, I wish I was out there.

I’m thinking, this motherfucker, he diagnosed me with alcohol use disorder and he’s telling me I should have blown him of to get drunk and play golf! I bet he can’t wait to get home and pour a scotch over an ice cube. He asked me how my daughter was doing and I told him we have been bonding over music. He was off and running after that, he’s telling me one of his kids only listens to rap, Rap! Rap! That’s It! My other one listens to good music, well, what I like to call the good music, Buffalo Springfield and… I kept him rollin’, Oh yeah, I used to listen to that when I was a kid… Yeah, okay, he says I’m doing much better, I guess he isn’t worried.

(She just texted me another link! No pressure? Even if I watched the first one I would have time for another. A third one! I just left the room for a second? I’ve been letting her slide a lot because she is a nice person and )

I guess it was a good idea I didn’t mention the Super sexual psychotic symbiosis I had going on the other night, “Generating” electromagnetic waves with certain parts of my body and sending them through the atmosphere. Until I stopped after 4 hours and banged it all out on the computer while I snacked on 2 pounds of steamed brussel sprouts like they were potato chips.

The fucking sprouts, yeah, I love them but I haven’t had them for a long time. It was an impulse buy. I didn’t want do it but I searched, “Why am I craving Brussel Sprouts?” Not what I was expecting… A study by John Hopkins, First result, “Glutamate and schizophrenia”. Alright, “I’m your huckleberry, That’s just my game.” … “Foods high in glutamate”, Of course the sprouts, and others, then, spinach? I was craving that all summer! I finally bought some and now I eat 2 heaping plates a week. That’s what got me started, but not the way you think… I was watching Food Network and searched “Why do they call it comfort food” and spinach came up. Made sense, magnesium, anxiety, I guess, but I didn’t search, “glutamate and spinach.” Whatever, I’m confused by the glutamate, I don’t care, I don’t want to eat pounds of Brussel sprouts each day. I give up, but what is that at the bottom of the list? Fucking lentils… Of course. I’m not doing any more searches! I know I consciously bought them on purpose and I do like them but it wasn’t my plan to chow them all at two in the morning. I ate plenty that day, I didn’t have the munchies. Plenty of food in the fridge to choose.

I’m not a health nut, I thought I was eating lentils for protein and fiber. I’ve been eating a lot of sausage and pepperoni pizza. Probably not going to google that!

In other news, my doctor is right, I do sound better. When Covid came and we started doing phone calls I was angry manic and yelled and cursed at him for the whole call. Every month for at least a year. He would try to interrupt me and I would get more pissed. I didn’t even know what I was pissed about. He would say, Hey. Hey. Hey. Make an appointment for next month.

I am doing okay. I only slept about eight hours this week but I can still maintain. “insane in the membrane, cypress hill” I”m eating meals I am preparing myself. I kept all my appointments. I’m putting my family first. Today I kept my promises and extra. Haven’t done anything too weird. ha ha besides the Electric Light Orchestra in my bedroom but that stayed inside my apartment, except for the metaphysical part. I sound crazy with the numbers going on but I’m not chasing that rabbit. the numbers don’t mean anything to me. I’m not looking for it but it happens. My doctor hung up at 4:44, I was checking my phone waiting to see. Today I picked up my phone at 2:22 to text my mom. I didn’t know what fucking time it was…

Speaking of my mom I did a per-emptive Thanksgiving strike on her. I pinned her down on plans because she usually makes plans without telling me until the day before and gets upset I don’t want to do it. It did backfire on me a bit. She said my brother was working and asked if we could do something here. Sure! She said great, I can come over the night before and your brother can come after he gets out of work. ????? I guess she did have plans.

My fucking brother I was just telling someone I barely see him and I keep my mouth shut. Why does he have to come out with the sarcastic, “I was joking but I wasn’t really joking” bullshit? He can pull that shit at his house but I’ll kick him out of here. .

I don’t know, I’ve been doing okay with the self acceptance and the life acceptance, they go hand in hand, but the acceptance of others. I need some time with that one. I want to go on huge rant about my brother but I’ll just be breaking my mood.

My mood is, Linkin Park: Hybrid Theory.

Herstory

1976:

“Crazy Jeannie” laughed maniacally with a raucous mock cheer as she swung the short rope attached to the clapper of the brass bell hanging from the ceiling behind the bar. Ding! Ding! Ding! Fifty drunks joined in celebration! The brass bell signaled some big spender had just left folding money as a tip. (The bell was ingenious as nobody wanted to be seen as cheap and face jeers on the way out.) Jeannie tucked the dollar bill beneath her shirt between her tits. It was good money considering a guy could get away with leaving one thin dime on the bar as a token of his appreciation. It looked like it was going to be another good night at The Bowery. But then again, it was always a good night at The Bowery in Salisbury Beach, Massachusetts.

Mornings were a different story. She had to wake up early, (if she had slept at all) and clean up because there was never time for that the night before and the Indians would be coming in soon for their extended lunch break.

The Indians? They held the highest paying jobs as iron workers constructing The nuclear power plant in Seabrook, NH a few miles from the MA. border. Indians were well sought after as iron workers. Over the years Native American workers cultivated the myth they were not afraid of heights. Their little joke on the white man. Jeannie knew how to keep them laughing and buying drinks for hours before they had to get back to the job site.

“Crazy Jeannie” was seen as a good time girl. But most people didn’t know she had recently left a professorship at Harvard. She had mouths to feed and could make much more money, tax free, slinging drinks to a bunch of stiffs. And let’s face it, this was a hell of a lot more fun. People also didn’t know she had been married to “Big El” since she was 18 and they had two kids together. Now she was 28 and “Big El” was in his 60’s spending most of his time in the Veteran’s Hospital.

Big El was the owner of two other bars in Salisbury Beach; The 5 O’clock Club and the Tik Toc Club. He was also one of the most well known of the unknown in the area. He was connected. He ran the books. That is what kept him flush. His clubs were popular but The Bowery held a hidden attraction. At the end of the long wooden bar was solid door that looked like it may lead to a storage room. Behind that door, fantasies came to life. That is, if you were in the know and had some real money to spend. Behind that door your drinks were brought to your table by scantily clad (if they were clad at all) “dancers.” If you were a gentleman and generous you could spend an hour or two with a dancer or two in one of the small, one room, wooden cottages behind the establishment.

How do I know all this shit? I knew “Crazy Jeannie” as “auntie Jeanne”, my mother’s sister. I was seven years old and Jeanne was watching over my brother and I that year while our mother was…. My mother was somewhere. I don’t know where. There are some things nobody in our family ever talks about, and us kids were taught not to ask too many questions. We pieced together our histories sharing things we overheard in the early morning hours after the parties died down and folks started getting maudlin. But there are some stories not even liquor can pry loose from their lips.

We were living rent free in one of those small cottages behind the bar. No, my aunt was not a dancer; she knew people. Yeah, four of us kids in one room, two beds, a small stove, small fridge (carton of milk, government cheese, some butter and the ever present jar of fucking green olives.) In the corner was the shower, sink and toilet; walled off by a sliding nylon curtain.

It was me, my brother (5 years), and my cousins; “Little El” (10 years) and his sister (6). El and I were in charge when Jeanne was working or partying or both. So, you know, most of the time. It wasn’t a tough job. Jeanne would slip us couple dollar bills from her shirt and that would keep us in home made macaroni and cheese for a week. (That was our main responsibility; procure the supplies for, and cook, the mac and cheese.) The real money was in the huge glass jar of quarters, nickles and dimes, Jeanne swept off the bar. I swear she could tell exactly how many coins my cousin and I had filched to play pinball at Joe’s Playland just by it’s weight; and it was heavy. Oh! She would get pissed! I don’t know how I kept letting my cousin talk me into it.

Salisbury Beach used to be a destination back in the ’70’s. It is a ghost town now. Most off the businesses are closed, I think you can still go to Joe’s Playland and play SkeeBall. The amusement park is closed. Almost all the buildings are decrepit. The Bowery is long gone but in it’s place is one of the only well maintained buildings, “Ten’s Show Club” Adult Entertainment. It is huge. Taking up a full corner of the block with two floors. No longer clandestine, “Dancers” are big business. I’ve never been inside but I imagine times have changed, but some things may never change.

I Blame You!

Robot Brain

I believe I am going to get along swimmingly with my new therapist!

I don’t remember much but I do have the emails; and a story to tell. Of course, there is always a story to tell.

The first thing I asked her was how she pronounces her name. The French or American way? She didn’t want to tell me. She said either way is fine. I pressed her and said, my grandfather was French-Canadian but pronounced it American style. Okay, she is warming up again. Most people say it American but her family says French. We dispensed the subject. Next I told her about the guided visualization, intensive paychotherapy session and said I don’t need a therapist anymore.

(It translates: to win.)

I am babbling on and let slip the word “broad”. She is like 30, I stopped and said, sorry, I’ve been talking like that since I was 4, I can control myself. She said, no, she thinks it is fun. I didn’t keep talking like that. I was telling her the key parts of the summer try not to rave too much about the synchronicities. I think I did okay. I told her about the beginning of summer and not wanting to meet people online because it used to be a drinking thing. She said something about in public. I said, everyone has their nose in their nose in their phones, isn’t that a big “stay the fuck away” sign? So it was all her fault.

I was about to ask if I needed a new link to each meeting but she disconnected. I wrote her an email yesterday.

Hello M—– (to win),

I forgot to ask if I should save the email with the Zoom link or if there is a new one each meeting. Forgive me I am new to this.Thank you
B—


Good morning! I love that you know what […..] means. That started my day of with some laughter.

No need to apologize! I meant to tell you yesterday😊

I will send a link the night before or morning of each time we have an appointment.


Thank you M—-, I took 4 years of French in high school and all I remember is what my grandfather’s name means. I thought each meeting needed a unique identifier but I forgot to ask yesterday.
I wasn’t really apologizing. I told you I am old school, that is just being polite. Some broads love it. 😝
Sorry, I couldn’t resist.
I checked my junk folder Monday and it wasn’t there but yesterday it was. I marked it as “not junk” so you should show up in my inbox.

Thanks again.


I will see you again next week! I will send you the link the day before or in the morning.


“I was very relaxed all day yesterday. Very… Calm, thinking, cool it’s over, I’m reading Jung no problem, when for the longest time I could barely sit through 20 minutes of an audio book. But the first few chapters were geopolitical and I thought it wasn’t the right book at all. I was about to drop it but checked the table of contents and the second half was all the shit from my poems. dreams, unconscious, function of religious symbols. Whatever, I’ve calmed down, plenty of time to come back and read it. Then 7:55pm happened. These numbers don’t mean anything to me. All day I was thinking, who the hell decided whichever number means what? Bunch of bullshit.

Okay the story, I was in Panera yesterday, (again?) I had to get out of the house for a while but I have been spending too much money. I only got coffee. (N—-, laughed at me, said I was officially old, when I texted her the story)

A woman was sitting to the left of me. People go there to set up shop and use the free wifi for their laptops and phones. That is what she was doing. I couldn’t be cranking my head around and staring. But I saw as I walked past. She was beautiful and had a style, medium hair, the right glasses, dark, loose knit sweater, the corduroy pants, like, burnt umber? Doc Marten’s, looked like she was dressed professionally to work in an office environment. I’m pretty fucking observant for just passing, the rest of the time I was texting and staring ahead wondering what the hell I was doing there?

Coming back from the bathroom, just going to get out of there, about to toss my coffee, thinking, See? She is closed down her business and her face in her phone. But she looked up, half smile, nothing really, but my fucking therapist pops into my head and I pointed at her phone and said, you’re not going to find me in there. stupid, but whatever, I did have time to think. Here is the funniest part. She got a quizical look, reached up, pulled out an earbud, (holy shit! she had them in both ears!) and said, “What?” I wanted to crawl under the carpet, I was so embarrassed, I shook my head and walked towards the door and outside.

Just want to get home, what the fuck are you doing, you idiot? She’s like 30 years old, fucking asshole… I hate being embarrassed. Then I thought of the “pronoun switching” I switch “you” (me) to “He”, “He’s a fucking idiot!” I don’t know why this works so well but it works so I am going with it. Every time I do it I just start laughing, like, Who the fuck is “He?” I understand, why it works… It makes as much sense to do that as it does to call myself an idiot. By the time I got home I was laughing at myself and couldn’t wait to tell someone. (I meant to write this last night but you know…) I texted N—- and she’s sending me GIF’s of the Fonz combing his hair in the mirror and I think “Joey” from Friends, “How you doin'” I was crying. I don’t know, a few weeks ago I probably would have gotten drunk from embarrassment. There are a lot of different emotions tied up with it. Not just for me, people in general. I think I will say, “You Bitch!” to my therapist next week and tell her the story. Unless things keep happening, it’s only been one day.

All morning I’ve been back at it, trying to do everything at once, getting upset about having to stop and eat or even to go to the bathroom. And Freakin’ M—–, keeps texting me, she doesn’t know I was stripped down while I was lying in bed picking up my phone and and putting it down and parts of what I was doing to create “energy”. Well now she does. I was trying to keep notes while I typed this but it is another post I may not write about.

(a little bit,)

“It was just a means of creating energy for a while and then I stopped. That’s why I texted can you see me. My whole brain and body was the dynamo. The bright blue spiraling electromagnectic stream inside and surrounding me from my feet all the way through my body out of my mind, pointed towards you. That’s why I texted are you in Amesbury.”

“It wasn’t sexual. it was kind of but creating energy. I didn’t finish. I got out of bed, to some screen shots of our texts, talked to you, finally fell asleep”

She keeps telling me I have to watch this movie, “Legion” and the name is from the bible about a legion of demons in this guy’s head he hears as voices. I don’t know if I want to see it, but she sent a short audio and it was the same fucking static electric crackling sound I heard during the episode last night and there was a conversation, some of it made sense, can’t even remember now, it ended saying something about going into the kitchen. Why? That is where I ended up last night when I stopped everything cold and went to the kitchen to see the “real” time, which is where I saw 2:22 and 3:33 last summer and laughed to myself about her. (different post I guess)

She is trying to tell me blue is the color of communication being kinder and gentler, I don’t fucking know.

Last night I was determined I was going to take an Uber to Portsmouth from now and get back in the afternoon, but I’m thinking that may not be the best idea with my doctor scheduled to call at 4pm.

3 Cubed

Pendulum clock

Four 1’s and four 2’s mean nothing to anyone but they add up to four 3’s

Phht… Blew her fucking mind. M===== is not the one I’m trying to find. Who is it?

JFC! 7pm, I’m logged in doing a Zoom meditation group. She sends me a link to a YouTube video “369 code of the universe” Nikola Tesla. yeah, yeah, I’m not watching that crap.

“You solved the riddle” “Ya, my bdate 369” Whatever, I’m trying to do something. She keeps sending me links. WTF she sending me all these links? I ain’t got time to listen to this shit! Long text with more links. Long explanations. The past lives bullshit again. (I’ll tell her something that really matters)

“You should have felt the peace run through me from midnight to 6.” Of course she knows all about it. “That’s the most Spiritual time, especially 3-4am.” Another long text. I don’t have time for this, I got Grace Jones pumping again. Fucking longer text, something about eating cow cheese and milk? What? “Do you write when you feel like that? ” Do I write when I feel like what? I shut the computer off, I’m in bed, It’s only 10:30.

“yeah”

“But now I’m lying here feeling like Tesla coils”

“sparkles”

fucking blue electric waves spiraling around my head

whole body humming with static charge

crackling

sparks

take off my clothes and align myself angled across the bed

“That’s why I couldn’t answer earlier”

can’t tell her what i’m doing (you know what i’m doing right?)

She never go for that

“I can hear it around my head”

“Differing frequencies”

“Trying to offload energies”

another long text,what is she talking about? lsd and elephants?

“No Elephant s”

“can you see me”

if she says yes she is lying

“My axis is pointed towards Amesbury are you there now”

no answer no answer

the tempo is so fast i can barely breathe deep enough to keep up

“That why this music is in sync”

i already know i found this info two weeks ago in portsmouth, who was she?

put my phone down, pick it up

“Grace Jones and Chaka Khan”

“I put them both on playlist Cotillion”

still going still going faster

“On shuffle they alternate”

she knows what is going on why wont she answer?

it’s fucking buzzing loud

the whole room is lit up electric blue

holy shit what is this stop check it

“La Vie en Rose”

“I’m moving huge volumes of air”

“What time is it”

“She speaks in tongues”

“3 3 3 3 9”

“1 2 1 1 2 2”

“It shut off the music”

turn it back on what the fuck

too much on the television

midnight run?

“You’ got to hurt before you heal”

“Bobby Bland”

“Text me at midnight”

fuck grace jones

this is the fucking song

demolition man

I’m a walking nightmare, an arsenal of doom
I kill conversation as I walk into the room
I’m a 3 line whip
I’m the sort of thing they ban
I’m a walking disaster
I’m a demolition man

who cares not slowing down now

too much energy

bright blue electric waves spiraling in power beam aimed towards amesbury

entire bedroom is glowing

an electro magnetic dynamo

still going faster

not right

gotta stop

where did the energy go

what time is it

not the right time

time is in the kitchen on the stove

“1148”

“It’s over”

“111221”

midnight nothing

half hour

hour

i knew she couldnt handle it

i knew she would flake out

take some screen shots

“How about 1:09?”

“Yeah the clock on my stove is different”

“And I heard it in the wind
And I saw it in the sky
And I thought it was the end

I thought it was the 4th of July”

“4th of July” Soundgarden

Pleasantville

“Back in the days our parents used to take care of us
Look at ’em now, they even fuckin’ scared of us
Calling the city for help because they can’t maintain
Damn, shit done changed”

“Things Done Changed” THE Notorious B.I.G.

I believe there has been another cosmic shift in my existence. A sea change? Am I mixing metaphors? I don’t care, it’s all tidal effects, can you feel the waves? I like that one. Most of my life I have lived near the ocean, though I have never been out of sight of land.

Sunday night I put on that meditation not knowing I would fall asleep soon after. I don’t remember what information I entered into the mental machine but the output was rage! I woke up at 3am not knowing which end was up. Hence Monday’s rant. I had a lot of anger to release. It had nothing to do with some “not quite real” person on the internet and everything to do with me.

For the last week, I was afraid I was fated. A feather floating by the whim of the universe’s breeze. I was afraid to move. I was afraid not to move. I didn’t want to miss it! Whatever “it” was. “Limited choices, chaotic voices, contradictions telling me which way to go.”

It’s not M=== either. She claims to be in tune with the energy of the universe, or some such shit. But she doesn’t remember half the details of our mysterious “connection.” She thinks I was drawn to her. She has been following me around her whole life. There I was afraid I would have to believe all that crazy shit. There are numbers all around. Today’s date, 11/17/2021, two 2’s and four 1’s. Must mean something, right? I better break out my abacus. Just another part of my universal timepiece.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve still got timing on my side. It just took listening to her bullshit for a few minutes to bring it all back. Basing her beliefs on fictional characters. Denying her mortality by imagining past lives. She has one for every occasion. I’ve got the timing back. The same Grace Jones song just ended as I wrote this, it means something completely different today. I didn’t even realize it was playing until it faded out at the end of the sentence.

I met with my new therapist yesterday and told her bit about this summer and how now I am in remission and don’t need a therapist anymore. She thought it was funny and said after we get to know each other we could work on my goals. It felt like she was telling me she is going to set goals for me. What? I’m going to become an astronaut? I corrected her. Priorities. She compromised. That was nice. She was willing to take a step towards me. I don’t know? Is this another therapist I am going to make my friend? She said she does “talk therapy”, but she meant exactly that. Talk about how my week went. Maybe I will be asking how her week went?

That is what got me to listen to Biggie Smalls. That was a blast from the past. What I had in mind was the line from “Big Poppa.”

“Who they attractin’ with that line (what?), “What’s your name? What’s your sign?”
Soon as he buy that wine, I just creep up from behind (that’s right)
And ask you what your interests are, who you be with
Things that make you smile, what numbers to dial
You gon’ be here for a while? I’m gon’ go call my crew, you go call your crew
We can rendezvous at the bar around two (come on)”

Yeah, I couldn’t listen to that for long. I would have ended up at the bar around two. Reminiscing. But I’m dancing again, letting the rhythm flow through my body.

Where was I? Oh yeah, she said, “goals” again. I let it slide. That’s not one of my priorities. Maybe both words mean the same thing? Time will tell. (Get it?)

But seriously, I could feel the peace creeping through me as I “slept” last night. I feel so relaxed.

One of the first things I did this morning was put an entry in my gratitude journal. I was grateful for me.

Event Horizon

I’ve experienced solar psychic sub-molecular time travel with flagellating single celled beasts of being, whipped into frenzy by filamented cat-o-nine tails. The laws of thermonuclear dynamics violated by the questioning of the big bang theory. Matter and energy were once created by or for the advent of time. To conceptualize a before and after, a leap must be made from the narrow walled solitary confinement of the now.