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Diaryland |
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2004-10-24 - 5:05 p.m. Listening to: -Stanley Turrentine "The Baddest Turrentine" LP It started around Thursday, hanging with Nick.......I just kinda went despondent, well not exactly, but that's what something was secretly telling me how to feel. I think I wanted to feel hopeless and be pitied for the sake of being pitied but I got no such treatment from anyone even myself. The feelings are notorious to me now. I know exactly when it's coming and my first reaction is like standing far away from the shore, at the mercy of the waves........knowing it's coming but who knows.......anyone's guess to their strength and predictably, and that uncertainty focuses you within yourself and makes everything around you disappear essentially to meaningless things. The progression of the emotions that come with this paralysis went pretty quick this time. I remember the times where I couldn't get over the introductory steps of fear and shame for weeks and maybe months at a time. You should of seen me back then struggling with my percieved sense of duty and promise.........the horror of it all, the immense shame, the hurt, and the futile attempts to cling to whatever gave me the slightest comfort. I drove around Thursday, just feeling out of sorts. I sought for Nick's company, keeping my mind on the film project, yet not really caring-caring in the sense that I was worried it wasn't going to come together, I knew it was without even asking. I went out to eat, caught a glimpse of a girl that knows me by name and smiles whenever I see her. I gave her the ho-hum chit-chat and got my food and ate. My mental concentrations on her to get her to come over and talk to me about her school, questions about upcoming movie projects, or just making fun of my "I don't give two shits" hairstyle.....thwarted by the endless line of customers strolling in, I went to the line again, I had to eat more, not because I wanted to buy extra time to mind meld with her, but because I was hungry and I now think that the extra plate of rice n' beans moment was for a brief second, an attempt to feel placid amongst the patrons-whom I had nothing in common with other then human features, and even then, it was a stretch, and the whole episode made me almost cry, for them and for me........it would of been truly beautiful to think of the whole crowd sobbing in unison over their trays of mexican food. I'd imagine no one would of minded if I was composer of the tear orchestra. My attempts to escape in a case of fancy beer......thwarted........the beer was too heavy.....the German monk on the label knew something was trying to get my attention, and being a saintly, man-purse carrying man that he is, left me be and fought with every sip to keep my mind unfettered from the effects of the potent german potion. I struggled even talking to my brother Nick, unless of course it was in joke form or asking questions to things I already knew he had under control. Nick ate things in the back room of the Supermarket with reckless abandon. I found myself struggling to do the same with my brother, I felt bad and shocked, not from the socially immoral acts of just eating shit off the store shelves and putting it back, but by the fervor in which conducted his destructive ballet. It's a side of him that I've seen of him on rare occasion, but it doesn't get any easier to see with each passing time. It drives you no closer to the process in which got them to their final conclusions. Nick and I rarely see differently and have a strong kinship, but at times like in the stock room, you just can't resist but to feel as if the world skewed for a brief moment and put a wrinkle in the whole existence. I can see anyone doing what Nick did, but just as the waves I feel, away from shore....I can sense them coming, but to their strength and motives, I haven't a clue. Stress? Confusion? Anger? Power? -It's natural to think that negative feelings brought upon destructive actions for normal folks, but it's my guess that his own unique genius was excited from the upcoming projects and those very displays of such will always be unpredictable, new, and always downright bone-chilling. He started making a DVD, and I could of sat their and watched how he figured out the new program we were using, but instead, I laid on his couch silent.......I can't tell you much about what I thought of, but it could of well been thought elsewhere, because the familiar surroundings just confused the interaction of my senses and my mind-which was far, far away from these familiar places. I closed my eyes, and the allergies I get from his dog were distinct, the smell, the occasional click on of the furnace....all fucked with my concentration, while Nick himself was lost in trying to build a DVD menu. The shoot went well and I stayed back as much as possible.......tangled up in throwing a football, something which I haven't done in years.......an activity that was regimented into my childhood.......I threw with as much fervor as I did back then, and the distraction was quite effective, but my body soon grew tired and I laid in the graveyard grass. The day was beautiful, I cracked jokes with the people and remained as social as possible, but when I laid in the grass, I covered my eyes again as I did on Nick's couch and again, I tried to reach for whatever was calling me from the deep recesses of my mind, I quickly tried to decipher the girls murmuring on my truck bed in the distance, I couldn't understand a word, but I intensely focused on that, ignoring the call. I felt immensely tired and light-headed from a cigarette. the ground was cool and the sun was hot. I went to work after the shoot was all said and done and kept to myself. I read the rest of "Demian" and couldn't help realize the similarities. I highlighted text and for brief moments I felt relieved and nature rewarded me with a beautiful sunrise. The sky was ablaze in orange and yellow and cotton candy periwinkle hues-I hesitated to open the door, realizing the importance of this moment, to see my mother sitting at the table, I told her to come and see.
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