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| Sunday, January 4th, 2009 | | 9:07 pm |
| | Saturday, January 3rd, 2009 | | 10:28 pm |
| | Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008 | | 8:57 am |
the sails rose from the depths. twinkling squares upon the horizon yanking themselves onward, towards us. ragbard spoke; it won't be long. there were eight of us, entranced by imminence. that night was the last we dared lambency, and the first we sat in sleepless tremor. there was no warmth, no cold, no weather. no air. we were still and silent and despondent. i opened my eyes to the gray light, my brothers strewn about, eyes bloody with anticipation against the relentless approach of the sails. the flat stench of sustenance bubbling in a cast-iron drum and envisaged pleading wails echoed through my empty head. ragbard approached me and extended his hand. i looked through his face, his eyes crazy and searching and locked arms. i stood. we strode away from our brothers and the steady advance of our fate. the rocky island was windier beyond our cove and just as desolate. decaying shrubs surrounded by pebbles surrounded by dirt surrounded by decay and our heavy boots crunching through it. he spoke; it won't be long now. we stopped, looking out over the camp and the rest of the island, the ceaseless expanse of gray-blue and the plodding squares growing ever larger against the haze shrouded sky. we stood and sat and stood again. brother; he said. i looked into his crazy eyes. we walked back to the camp. silent but for the gentle unfurling of waves before us. i stared outwards and no one dared even whisper. the smoldering ashes a smoky reminder of what would never be. a flagon appeared before me below ragbard's staring gaze and i pulled long and deep until i was awash in it, dizzy and tiny in the darkness of the vessel, moving images and voices echoing. they were upon us, or would be, and everything was spinning. | | 8:14 am |
| | Friday, December 12th, 2008 | | 2:39 pm |
| | 12:37 pm |
| | 12:33 pm |
| | 11:01 am |
| | 10:59 am |
| | Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007 | | 7:36 am |
the girl of my dreams
i met the most beautiful girl last night. she was out of place at the club and i was out of place--there was no moment of attraction. we laughed together over fliers and she checked the time, waiting for her brother to pick her up. we ended up in my room. i was lying on my bed considering if the open window would let in too much noise from the freeway while she wondered if her brother had already been here. already been here? how would that be? she checked on the computer, i don't know what...i was trying to look at the clock, but something wouldn't let me. i knew it was better not to resist and reached for her waist pulling her away from the laptop and towards me. there was an hour in the air and i told her she was wearing far more clothing than i was. she laughed pulling off her shoes, stockings. i wrapped myself around her, running my fingers through her hair as she joined me in pure natural glory, and for a single, undeniable moment, our lips met...and she was gone. | | Monday, April 24th, 2006 | | 9:03 pm |
fer
we are all floating slowly along a calm river on homemade rafts of logs tied together with rope. they are safe--there is no way for them to sink. the sun is hot when there are no clouds in the sky, and night lasts only a few hours. everything we've seen on our journey blends together. the trees all look the same, the animals are the same color and the river never turns more than a few degrees before straightening back to it's original and final course. it is soothing to fall asleep listening to the moving water lapping against the sides of the logs. a few of us have fallen off of the rafts while sleeping, always resulting in screams of laughter. it's not a bad life. there is plenty to eat--the fish seem to exist in endless numbers and the river doesn't move too fast retrieve speared squirrels or rabbits on the banks. when the nights grow longer it becomes quite cold so we all helped to make one very large raft on which we build fires at night. they say that the river empties into an enormous sea, but i am starting to doubt it. we have been travelling for years. we're all naked and have large beards. a few of us have died. two of the women are pregnant. it's not a bad life...but then, i don't really remember anything else. at first my skin was very tender and would burn. we are all brown now and no one complains. our fingernails and toenails grow very long and we have to smash the ends of with rocks. several of my teeth have fallen out. there's food everywhere but i'm always hungry. there is water everywhere, but it never quenches my thirst. i hate this place. i know i've seen the same trees again and again, the same rocks more than once. i think we're going in a big circle. no one listens to me. no one talks to me anymore. i ripped all of my hair out and braided it into 2 bracelets i wear around my wrists. why doesn't it ever rain? | | 8:49 pm |
sheep
walking backwards across the rocky terrain. i can see the footsteps again, but they're going in the wrong direction. the wind has changed directions and i can't find the sun anymore. it must be behind the clouds but i can't be sure. i don't know why my legs are moving like this, because i can't really stop them. sometimes i can almost slow the pace, but it always seems to speed up again. i remember a time when there was nothing in front of me except for the wide expanse i sought to explore. now the familiar begins to suround me again as my the evidence of my long trek fades ahead into the distance. the longer i walk the heavier my tread becomes. it gets harder to breathe and my heart beats with more strain. my muscles atrophy and i am stupider by the minute. there voices in the distance, but i can't distinguish intelligble words yet--i'm sure that will also change. the sky is grey. the rocks are grey. when i close my eyes i hear myself screaming "why." | | Tuesday, April 11th, 2006 | | 12:43 am |
a distant murmuring
if i sit absolutely still, without even breathing, i can feel it come on. it's something i only started to notice recently, but when i think back it's happened my entire life. it's hard to maintain because as soon as i begin to feel it, something forces me to move a part of my body. in the beginning i could only hold it for a fraction of a second, but now it's upwards of two seconds. it doesn't sound like much, but it's enough. if i'm sitting on something comfortable with my legs folded beneath me and my hands resting comfortably in my lap the effect is the best. i don't close my eyes, but rather tilt my head down slightly with my gaze focused around where my feet are. and then i concentrate on that feeling. it starts at the base of my spine, but i can feel it almost simultaneously at the very top of my spine. my feet cease to exist and i watch my hands. time expands instantly. the tips of my fingers begin to stretch and wobble and eventually break off in tiny floating spheres, floating upwards towards my face. my attention returns to my hands which have followed slowly behind the fingers. the spheres, or bubbles, are translucent and very reflective. it continues up my arms and has already started at my pelvis. this is usually the point in which something in my back twitches and everything snaps back into place. one time it went further. the floor and walls collapsed away from me and i was met with a giant inexplicable face directly in front of me. it was inexplicable, because the only thing that i can recall about it was that it was a giant face...but there was nothing extraordinary, or even describable, about it, aside that it was hanging two feet in front of me, disembodied, and grinning. i opened my mouth to speak and as soon as my jaw moved everything snapped away and back. i wasn't sitting on the cushion anymore, though, i was lying about six feet away from my seat on the floor with blood trickling out of both nostrils. | | Tuesday, April 4th, 2006 | | 1:04 am |
afternoon snack
i empty the orange bottle on the desk in front of me. the computer screen is staring at me, blinking its giant eye sixty times a second. it only takes ten minutes for it to lose interest and fall asleep. i am half envious. there are fifteen tablets left. fifteen times fifteen is two-hundred and twenty five...this will make me incredibly nauseated, of course. i search around behind the speakers to find the sandwich bag with about a gram of weed and put it on the keyboard in front of me. standing up out of the chair i look for my bottle of water. it’s nowhere to be found. i head up the stairs and fill up a glass from the tap and go back down the computer. i grab a couple of the percocet and start chewing. take a mouthful of water. swish—-swallow. the computer screen shuts off. i pick up the remaining tablets and repeat the process. my rolling tobacco is in my pocket and i remove it along with a pack of rolling papers. i open the sandwich bag of weed and crush the dry buds onto the desk in front of me. i mix in a small amount of tobacco, making sure it’s evenly distributed. i drink the rest of the water. it takes a couple seconds to roll the spliff. i put the tobacco back into my pocket and the spliff behind my ear—i wont light it until the nausea hits. there’s nothing to do but wait. i can no longer stand even looking at an unpowered television, so i leave the room and head back up the stairs. i walk across the living room and go out on to the back porch. there are two chairs and i sit in one of them. the sun is shining down from the clear sky and a cool breeze reminds me that summer is still several weeks away. i lean back and close my eyes, waiting. it’s funny to think that i am the most lucid under these circumstances...but then it makes sense also—finally having been able to surrender myself completely. it takes altogether too much energy to fight the losing battle and succumbing is not defeat, but true understanding. we are like children, rebelling for the sake of rebellion, not ever realizing that we are only denying ourselves. i feel a warmth in my belly and my upper thighs. a smile creeps across my face. you are a beautiful creature, mr. poppy, i think happily. the warmth slowly spreads from head to toe. it is followed by a deep relaxation and my thoughts slow and quiet. my breathing gets shallower and shallower—something that used to frighten me, but now the fear is nowhere to be found. my head starts spinning and i grab the spliff and light it with a book of matches. the birds are chirping happily around me, the trees swaying casually in the wind. | | Thursday, March 23rd, 2006 | | 10:12 pm |
the last goodbye
from the moment we laid eyes on each other, there was a special kind of chemistry. i had never before experienced the exhilaration of this kind. it took us a while to get know each other, but it wasn’t long before we had fallen head over heels in love. it was a beautiful time. it was a carefree time. i had never before felt such strong emotions, and such certainty about for what life must be meant—it was happening to me every day. we would wake up in each others arms and fall asleep as one. we would eat every meal together as if though it was our last and we spent every weekend immersed in unbridled joy. i could share you with my friends, and you’d laugh and play. i never got jealous, because i knew you were mine. my friends loved you and i loved you. wherever you were, you brought carefree joy and love. i was enamored. there are no words that can truly describe what you meant to me. whenever i wasn’t happy, you would just look at me and a smile would crawl across my lips. whenever i was bored, you were there to spin the world around me. whenever i was lonely, there you were to comfort me. you were my life, my one true joy. and then...you were gone for just a few days, and it all came crashing down. i understood, then, that you didn’t make me happy, it was your absence that made me sad. the times we spent together weren’t magical, they were routine...but without them, i was a wreck. i didn’t have fun anymore—i didn’t even know what fun was. i just knew i had to get my fill or my heart would shrivel up. i began to resent you, and you began to resent me. i accused you of making me your slave, and you accused me of trying to hurt and get rid of you. but we stuck through it, didn’t we? even after all the hard times, we stuck through it. and how could we not? even after i swore i was done, and tried to stay away...we ended up together anyway. i told you that you were killing me and if you really loved me you would set me free. you did, but i came crawling back. i was hurt, and you must have been too, and still we stuck it out...until one day while you were gone, i left for good. i didn’t tell you where i was going, or for how long. i just left. i didn’t know what you would think, but i had no choice. i went as far away as i could, to a place i knew you would never find me. months passed. i hated to admit it to myself, but i thought about you a lot. i thought about you every single day, every single hour. at first it was with contempt. i felt you had tried to kill me, destroy my vitality, my ambition and my willpower. my rage subsided and was replaced with curiosity and longing. i often imagined you in my mind—what you looked like, what you smelled like, how you tasted...i looked at pictures of you i had saved on my computer, and on some days it brought me to tears. i wondered how i could’ve turned my back on you, but i knew it was too late. then one fateful day i met someone who knew you. i was blown away. i never thought i would ever meet anyone here that you knew. at first i thought you had come looking for me, but i quickly dismissed it. i spoke to my friends about you, and reminisced about the good ol’ days. i was flooded with nostalgia and made a (drunken) promise to myself to seek you out one day. weeks passed and nothing turned up. i had almost stopped thinking about you, having gotten very busy with school work and other things...and then out of the blue my friend called me. he told me he was having a party and that you would be there. everything else dissolved out of view—i couldn’t wait for the party. i prepared myself as i remembered you liked and headed to his apartment. when i walked in i was overwhelmed by the fragrance of your perfume. a pang of jealousy hit my stomach, but quickly faded—i was too filled with anxious anticipation. i went around the corner and into the room, and there you were—sitting on the table. i was speechless. you were just as beautiful as i remembered. i picked you up and twirled you around. i touched you all over and breathed in your scent—it hadn’t changed at all. i felt whole again. that night we reunited in a wild dance of passion and romance. we all made love with you that night. i took you home with me. i knew it was dangerous to get involved romantically, so i just wanted to be friends, and you agreed happily. we had experienced so much together over the years, it was time to enrich ourselves with a different kind of relationship. but it didn’t happen like we wanted. only hours after we had been reunited, we fell into exactly the same rhythm as we had what seemed a lifetime ago. we argued and fought and danced and made love—but we forgot everything around us. my life became about you again. i was falling down the same hole as before, but this time i knew it as it was happening. we could never be friends. we had never been “just friends” and we never would be able to. i looked into your eyes and you knew what i was thinking. i wiped the tears off your cheeks and we wrapped ourselves in a rice-paper on a bed of tobacco for one last beautiful good bye. mary jane, my heart will always be yours. | | Monday, March 20th, 2006 | | 2:57 pm |
hail technology
excerpt from fatu-hiva: back to nature, by thor heyerdahl-- We like to think of progress as modern man's struggle to secure better food for more people, warmer clothing and finer dwellings for the poor, more medicine and hospitals for the sick, increased security against war, less corruption and crime, a happier life for young and old. But as it has turned out, progress involves much more. It is progress when weapons are improved to kill more people at a longer range. It is progress when a little man becomes a giant because he can push a button and blow up the world. It is progress when the man in the street can stop thinking and creating because all his problems are solved by others who show him what happens if he turns on a switch. It is progress when people become so specialized that they know almost everything about almost nothing. It is also progress when reality gets so damned dull that we all survive by sitting staring at entertainment radiating from a box, or when one pill is invented to cure the harm done by another, or when hospitals grow up like mushrooms because our heads are overworked and our bodies underdeveloped, because our hearts are empty and our intestines filled with anything cleverly advertised. It is progress when a farmer leaves his hoe and a fisherman his net to step on to an assembly line the day the cornfield is leased to industry, which needs the salmon river as its sewer. It is progress when cities grow bigger and fields and forests smaller until ever more men spend ever more time in subways and bumper-to-bumper car queues, until neon-lights are needed in day-time because buildings grope for the sky and dwarf men and women in canyons where they roll along with klaxons screaming and blow exhaust all over their babies. When children get a sidewalk in exchange for a meadow, when the fragrance of flowers and the view of the hills and forests are replaced by air conditioning and a view across the street. It is progress when a centuries-old oak is cut down to give space for a road sign. | | Wednesday, March 15th, 2006 | | 12:43 pm |
at last
i looked around at the grinning expectant faces and suddenly it hit me: a feeling unlike anything i had experienced. i was suddenly completely revolted by the people i had only a moment before known as intimate friends. i looked at the faces for the first time and a frown crept across my lips. the bat fell from my hand and i stood straight. it was completely silent except for some heavy breathing. the notion of violence left me completely unsatisfied. had i always felt this way? what was i doing? i turned around and left the bloody stink behind me in the room. a hand grabbed at my shoulder. it wanted to know where i was going, what was the matter. i didn't answer and kept walking out the second door into the chilly rain. no one followed me. the city was bland. it was always and the air was stale and frigid. there were too many cars and not enough trees. everything looked different. everything was gray and blue and falling apart. my clothes were soaked and i started to walk towards my apartment. it was only a few blocks, but with each step i became more and more sure that i was heading in the wrong direction. nothing was familiar. the wind picked up blasting tiny needles of icy water into my eyes and i welcomed the pain. i stopped at the corner of an intersection and watched twenty cars shoot by. they all looked the same and they all smelled the same. the exhaust burned in my throat. i had never noticed that before. i looked up at the eerie glow of light pollution in the sky. it was never completely dark here. the cars stopped moving in front of me and i crossed over the four lanes of traffic. a guy on a motorcycle slammed on the brakes next to me and yelled something obscene. i expected no less and kept walking. it was certain now that i was going to the wrong direction, but i had no real desire to find my way back to the small three rooms in which i dwellt. i thought about how sparse and empty it was and laughed to myself--for the first time in my life i could relate to that feeling. there was a gaping chasm in my chest that ached in a singular way. something very important was missing, or rather, had been missing for some time. the rain was becoming heavier. i passed a basketball court inhabited by some vagrants smoking something. there must've been at least eight or nine of them judging by the glow of their cherries, and i immediately lost interest. i had been walking for several minutes and had no idea where i was. i felt like a stranger in this city and like a stranger in my body. the rain was abating and the wind was picking up. my clothes were soaked all the way through and my shoes squeaked with every step. i could see a very large intersection in front of me leading out to a big bridge beyond it. spontaneously i reached into my pocket and my fingers formed around a smooth oblong object. not recognizing it, i removed it from my pants and stopped walking. under a streetlamp i examined it in my hand and everything came back like a sledgehammer blow to the back of my head. the rain had stopped completely, my chest ached more than ever and i was finally free. | | Thursday, October 6th, 2005 | | 4:54 pm |
philosophers stones
I had been to Amsterdam in the past, twice before--once with my parents when I was too young to have any interest in psychoactive chemicals and once more with my brother when I only smoked cannabis. The third time, when I experienced for the first time the true awesome power of Psilocybin, was right after new years 2005 with my girlfriend. I live on the east coast of the united states, and my experience with mushrooms had been relatively limited and uninteresting. It is difficult to find good-quality mushrooms, and each time I tried them I felt physically ill, but otherwise the same--in fact, I felt more high drinking cough syrup than eating them. This being said, I had very little idea of what I was in for. We had arrived in Amsterdam around midday and immediately dropped our bags off in our hotel and hit the streets to find and smoke as much cannabis as our wallets would allow. Needless to say, this did not pose much of a problem, and we soon found our way to Barney's Coffeeshop (if you haven't patronized this establishment while in Amsterdam, you have made a serious error--not only do they serve delicious food, employ the friendliest of staff, but they have a selection of some of the best marijuana and hashish I have ever ecountered). We purchased the 2004 Cannabis Cup winning marijuana strain "Amnesia Haze", and set in motion the rolling and smoking of it. Amnesia Haze deserves a post just for itself, but suffice it to say that after smoking less than an eighth of the joint I had absolutely no idea what was going on at all. We left Barney's and wandered around (I'm not sure where or for how long) until we found ourselves in the Magic Mushroom smartshop. The proprietor was very friendly, and we asked about mushrooms, explaining that we knew very little about them. She pulled out a color-coded chart with pictures of the different strains and explained a little about each one, finishing with the Philosopher's Stones--that kind was her favorite. She described it as "a really nice head-trip, with a lot of laughing/smiling, and you'll talk a lot. Everything you say will seem like some kind of amazing revelation. It's great!" My girlfriend and I were both sold. She explained that it's illegal to dry the mushrooms, so we had to buy them wet--which meant buying a box of 18g. If we hadn't been so completely gone at that point we may have taken more into account the fact that she had told us that 6-9g was a light trip, 9-13g was a medium trip and 13-18g was a heavy trip. We each bought one box of 18g and left the store. I can't really remember what else we did that day, but we ended up back at the hotel and passed out in preparation for a full day of tripping. Just before noon we headed out to the local grocery store to get something to eat with the shrooms (quick note: these were actually truffles, not mushrooms). [That was a mistake, I realize now, since everywhere I read recommends FASTING beforehand] We ended up buying crackers and some delicious cheese. I'm not a mushroom-kinda guy, in fact, mushrooms make me want to vomit, so choking down 18 grams worth of disgusting truffles was no easy feat, but about thirty minutes after starting I had finally finished. We both sat in the tiny hotel room watching some dutch television for about twenty minutes longer until I looked over at my girlfriend and noticed she was staring at the wall with an expression of mild fear mixed with bemusement. I followed her gaze to the wallpaper pattern of small triangles and asked what she was looking at. she replied "The wall looks like it's moving". --brief interlude--I have a sort of paranoia about flipping out when on any kind of drug, and immediately have to think about what i'm perceiving, or what others are perceiving, and find a scientific justification or reason behind it---the end--- I explained that when the eye focuses on something, it actually moves around the object imperceptibly, but the effects of psilocybin make it noticeable (I didn't know if this was correct, but it seemed to make sense). She didn't particularly seem to care, as she was totally engrossed. ***i'm going to switch into present-tense now*** A few more minutes pass and I begin to feel something starting right behind my groin and in my thighs. It is a familiar feeling and when I look at the wall, and sure enough, it's moving. She has changed her focus from the wall to the buildings outside and seems to be completely comfortable with this new perception and points out excitedly "Holy shit! the buildings are moving! do you see that?" I look outside and it seems as if though the buildings on either side of the street in front of us are moving up and down and towards and away from us. the shrooms are hitting me hard at this point, but i am nowhere near peaking yet. judging time has become an impossible task, and after some time we decide to head out into the streets of amsterdam. It's still a bit cold as it is january, and i put on my jacket and grab my backpack. at this point, i am very high and only barely manage to remember to grab a map, our key and a deck of cards (i leave my wallet behind and all other valuables). i am ready to go very quickly, and i look over at my girlfriend who is staring quizzically at her jacket. "Whose jacket is this? this isn't my jacket.." She is very confused and the jacket is in fact hers. This continued for a while, but eventually i managed to convince her to put on the jacket and we left the building. the air was incredibly fresh and delightful. we began walking without any idea of destination. i am feeling wonderful. we cross a canal and the shrooms are still hitting me harder and harder. my girlfriend is peaking and has lost all sense of the outside world. she extends her arms and twirls around staring up at the sky. i begin to get very uncomfortable, thinking that everyone around us is staring at us, knowing that we are tripping. we stop at an intersection waiting for the light and i look beyond my girlfriend at the top of a building. all of a sudden i am frozen in place and i feel as though the universe collapses down onto me. i see a brief color shift, like the tint on a tv were adjusted to some absurd setting, and a flash of white that translates into an intense non-existent shiver that knocks me out of the trance. my girlfriend has been watching me, and asks me if everything is alright, that i look like ive just seen a ghost. i don't know what to say, because i can't describe what just happened. that is the beginning of my spiral into terror. the light turns green and we cross the intersection, wandering along the sidewalks still with no destination in mind. Soon we are walking along a canal and i cannot stop my inner monologue. i feel as if though i have finally realized my role in the universe, and it is completely insignificant. it is incredibly depressing as i realize that nothing i do will have an impact on the universe. we sit on a bench to roll and smoke cigarettes, because i hope that it will take my mind off of this one truth. my girlfriend is totally unable to roll the cigarette and she seems to be feeding off my totally negative energy. this in turn affects me negatively because i fear that she is feeling the same hopeless thoughts that i am. i roll a pathetic cigarette and we share it, sitting on the bench, staring into the water. the wind is blowing across the water creating a rhythmic pattern of dancing ripples and we are entranced. my thoughts switch from desolation to amazement at the mathematics i'm witnessing in front of me. i am almost happy again, but i am still filled with a weight of anxiety and my bad mood quickly regains control. i tell my girlfriend we need to choose somewhere to go. we decided to go into the first coffeeshop we pass and take off. at some point along the way we notice the sky. the clouds seem to be moving very quickly and it is an amazing site. i am again briefly distracted from my pain. (i'm still not sure if it was the drugs or if the clouds actually were moving that fast--amsterdam is close to the water so it's possible) we walk down a street that is covered in the shadows of a row of buildings and a feeling of extreme danger comes over both me and my girlfriend. "i don't like this..." she whispers to me and i agree. we speed walk down and away from the street and find ourselves in front of a coffeeshop that we quickly enter. a sort of relief fills my body, but it is short lived. we sit down and decide to play cards. bob marley is playing on the stereo and i begin to relax more. i am shuffling the cards and the music changes and the anxiety begins again. i order a fruit drink and sit down, my extremities tingling in what seemed like some kind of parasthesia. we are trying to play po soy dos, but when i look at the cards the symbols melt and move and i cannot tell which cards i am holding. my girlfriend experiences the same problem. we buy a pre-rolled joint and begin to smoke it. the familiar feeling of a thc high breathes into me and i think to myself "at last! something familiar!" but i am mistaken. it is merely psychosomatic. some people leave and we take their table on some low cushions and i feel comfortable and my girlfriend feels comfortable. we continue smoking the joint and i am able to make some conversation with her (i have been totally silent for most of the time). we sit for what seems like maybe seven minutes and all of a sudden two dark-skinned young men enter and sit near us. they were completely non-threatening and i'm not consciously a racist, but both my girlfriend and i become immediately anxiety-ridden. with no more than five words spoken between us, we put out the joint, stand and leave. we decide to head back to the hotel (5 hours mustve passed since we ate the shrooms at this point), but have absolutely no idea where we are. we walk to a busy street corner where there is a map and my girlfriend begins to look at it. she can't make sense of it and gives up almost immediately. she is very worried now, and i attempt to look at the map. everything on the map is swirling and moving and it is very difficult to focus, but i somehow find where we are currently and where we need to go (i'm still surprised i managed this). we stand at the busy intersection looking both ways with horror, as there are three separate lanes of traffic for each direction buzzing by us. we are too scared to cross during a break and are forced to wait for several minutes. my memory becomes fuzzy at this point, but it begins getting dark and we are still walking. my negative energy is so powerful that my girlfriend has lost all joy in the shrooming experience, and walks on in silence. the darker it gets the more nervous she becomes, and the more nervous she becomes the higher my anxiety. we reach the amstel river (on course to the hotel, somehow) and sit on a bench to regain our composure. the clouds are backlit by the moon, and still moving rapidly. we both gaze in to the centers of the clouds and see shapes and faces. we laugh and are happy again--anything that we will ourselves to see, we can see in the clouds. this continues for a number of minutes and we finally rise and continue back to the hotel. it is a straight path now, and we begin recognizing streets and buildings. when we reach the hotel i exhale an enormous sigh of relief and we hurry up the stairs to our room. the remainder of the evening is spent watching tv, my girlfriend back in high spirits, and me silent, brooding about the hopelessness of my life, and contemplating what difference it would make to myself, to the people i know or to the universe at large if i were to simply disappear altogether. i go in and out of nausea and fall asleep convinced that i hear ghosts trying to get into our room from the floor above. | | 4:10 pm |
re-sentment
There was nothing around us but trees, grass and houses. The road was more or less a straight shot--heading just south of due west. It was completely flat and I had been driving for hours towards the mountains. We didn't really have a destination in mind, but then most people driven away by something rarely do. It wasn't the same for both of us--Jeff had it bad at home and consequently at school as well. They way he figured it, he had nothing to lose anymore and wanted to see what it was like outside of our suburban home before he bought a ticket on the bullet train of oblivion. I, on the other hand, was driven by boredom. My family was loving and nurturing and I got good grades in the classes I bothered going to, but somehow it all seemed empty and incomplete. My parents had sent me to several of those therapists and pyschologists (both of my parents came from upper-middle class homes and were well educated. They insisted that my distaste for Brentonville stemmed from common teenage-depression), all of whom apparently had all of the answers: additional hours of therapy at $120 per hour. It was all quite predictable, and they reacted to my witty derision by calling it evidence of my mental imbalance. My parents ate it up which only increased the divide between us. In retrospect, it seems more likely that the whole situation was my fault. I was never too fond of confrontation with my parents and acted out my unhappiness in a more passive-aggressive way. Now, of course, it no longer mattered, and by the time they noticed their car was gone we would be far enough from Brentonville that not even the police would be looking for us out here. The sun had just climbed above the distant mountain-range in front of us and I glanced over at Jeff. His head was slumped relaxedly to the side and there was a small strand of drool connecting his chin to his shoulder. I yawned sub-consciously and checked the fuel gauge--it would be time for a pit-stop soon. We had been driving through an area populated by ranch-style houses painted bland colors with rusting cars and trucks parked in the driveways. I took a swig from the redbull in the cup-holder and began braking for the upcoming red-light. There quaint looking farmer's market on the right side and a car dealership on the left. The light changed and I drove through the empty intersection. The road was totally devoid of traffic, or anybody else, really--people would be just waking up now. I saw the giant exxon sign ahead on the right side and made the turn. Jeff was stirring at this point, probably awakened from the stopping and slowing of the car. I parked next to the pump and got out. A moment later Jeff opened the door and stepped out, stretching his arms out to the sides and yawning. I was silent, and he asked after a minute or two, "What time is it?" I looked at my watch and replied. He nodded once, looked around the empty gas station and opened the back passenger-side door. I had finished pumping the gas, and the little screen told me to please pay inside. Jeff shut the back door and followed me inside of the gas station. I approached the counter and was greeted by an out-of-shape older woman with an annoyed expression on her face. I began, "pump numbe--" she cut me off "fifteen dollars." I stared at her for a moment and reached into my pocket. I only had time to pull the wallet out before Jeff shoved me to the side and I tripped over a wire-frame shelf of potato chips. "What the fuck, Jeff!" I shouted, and then fell silent when I finally took in the entire situation. Jeff was standing where I had been with a pistol in the old woman's face. He was screaming, "give me the money, slut" at the top of his lungs. I was speechless for what must've been at least a minute, and when I was able to make cohesive sentences once again, I merely repeated what I had last said: What the fuck, Jeff! He told me to shut up, and grabbed the wad of bills the old woman handed him. "forty bucks? are you fucking kidding me?" he shouted at her. It wasn't even 6 in the morning, of course they wouldn't have any money. I began to explain this to him, but was interrupted when he pulled the trigger covering the cigarette wall with a gloppy coating of red and dark brown chunks. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet, saying only "get out". I stumbled out of the gas station while he followed closely behind, shoving my back and looking over his shoulder constantly. I stopped in front of the car and turned around. He was standing no more than three feet away from me with the gun in his hand hanging at his side. "Are you fucking crazy?" I asked. He was silent for only a minute and responded "Give me the keys, Tom". I didn't know how to react--on the one hand, I could give him the keys since he DID in fact have a gun, and had just killed a random woman, but on the other hand I was pissed off that, I had stolen MY parents' car and driven him all this way only for him to kill a gas station attendant and try to steal the car from me. "Fuck you, Jeff" I yelled and pulled the keys out of my pocket, held them out for a second and then threw them over Jeff's head as far as I could. Rage flashed across his face and he spun watching the keys soaring above and past him and over a gas pump to land on the roof of the station. I started laughing and he twirled, raised his arm to my face, and everything went black. | | Tuesday, February 22nd, 2005 | | 12:01 pm |
is what it's called
All I wanted to do was go back to the house and maybe take a nap or something. It seemed ridiculous to me that I had to wait for an hour and a half for no reason other than the whim of my driver. The more I thought about it, the more absurd it was: being at the mercy of an employee! But it wasn't all bad. Maybe he knew more about what I wanted than I did. Maybe he figured that I didn't really want to back to the house--that I wanted to sit for an hour and a half doing nothing. Heck, maybe he was right. Just maybe. I'd never really been able to accurately gauge my own desires. It was always sort of a "guess and check", and it was never really consistent. Sometimes butter on the sandwich, sometimes just cheese. Sometimes heterosexual-urine porn and sometimes transsexual bondage. I don't really think it's abnormal to be indecisive. I don't even know if indecisive is the right word. I've heard 'ambivalent' used, and after finally looking it up in the dictionary it seemed appropriate. Or maybe not--but the point is, no one really knows what he wants for sure. The only thing I'm sure about, is that for the majority of my life I have strongly disliked chocolate. Now it's just a mild distaste. I still can't stand chocolate ice cream though. Brownies, chocolate bars, cakes and all of that is fine. Not fine, you know, but okay. It was a difficult life to lead, disliking chocolate. The way I saw it, was that it was better than disliking Jesus. Because that will really offend people. Just some people, I guess. Man, I'd really like to be able to indiscriminately murder people. That's not true--it would be discriminate. First I'd start with abomination (homosexuals) then I'd move onto the non-chosen (not-jewish) then I'd finish up with those more and less swarthy than I am. Those fucking ungrateful swine. The gift of life given to those who don't even deserve it. YHWH is slacking and someone should pick up the slack. There is too much impurity in this world. Too much apathy. We must strike, and strike soon. Strike before the rot spreads to the core. Faith can only bring us so far, the last leg of the journey we must conquer ourselves. Of course, that's not to say we can't use guns and bombs and things of that nature. I can see it now: the trembling fearful shame of the inferior race cowering in the corner of their single-family home. Father clinging onto daughters and wife--the air thick with the stench of fear and urine (my favorite). I wouldn't rush, though, that would be making a terrible mistake. It would be an enormous waste, and I've still got two hours before the city's mass-execution is conducted. I can hear the tremolo in the father's voice as he attempts to bargain for the lives of his children. Hah! What could he have that would possibly be worth their lives? I explain this to him and they wail. I grab one daughter and tear off her clothes. The father shrieks and lunges towards me, but is met with my cattle-prod. He falls limp on the kitchen floor and i fire one bullet into his throat. His wife is sobbing and pulls his now gurgling, wriggling body into her arms as I tie her daughter to a chair. She must be no more than ten years old--just right. The only hair growing on her body is above her neck, so I know I will probably have a tight squeeze and look around for something to use as lubricant. I can only find palmolive by the sink, so it will have to do. The father has died by this point, and the mother is building her courage to act in defense of her still undefiled daughter. Before she has a chance to move, I put a bullet between her other daughter's eyes and grab a fistful of the mother's hair. She cannot control her body as she is sent into convulsions of horror. I tie her to a chair facing her still living bound daughter, whose legs are strapped to the front two chairlegs, and arms to the back as she bends at the waist. The mother's eyes are swollen with tears as she stares at the scene in front of her. She knows what will happen and I know what will happen. I pull down my pants and massage the palmolive soap onto my growing erection. The nine inches pokes up behind the daughter, but she can't see what's happening. She continues to cry and scream and I get harder. I squeeze some more soap on my fingers and plunge them deep inside of her, and she screams louder than I thought possible. I am very aroused at this point and begin forcing my huge member inside of her tiny, underdeveloped vagina. It is a very tight fit, as predicted, but the palmolive is helping it along. I thrust once, and pull out, and thrust again and pull out once more. There is a trace of pink appearing more and more on my penis with each retraction. I can feel the girl's terror and pain of flesh tearing and soap stinging. But best of all, I can see my grin reflected in the mother's unblinking eyes. |
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