Tuesday, October 5, 2010

I do not Remember writing this.

ok. i understand the no more talking thing.
i understand. truly. this isn't me trying to get you
to talk to me. This is simply an explanation
as to why I've gone completely crazy about this situation.

I didn't offer this explanation on Tuesday because i was at work. But! now i have the internet in my house.
how convenient.

So, every night, i dream, just like any other normal person.
Awhile ago me and a very close friend of mine started having the same dreams. with the same people. same colors. and everything. I decided i would teach myself how to lucid dream, so i could get to the bottom of this strange occurrence.

After a couple of weeks of sitting up straight, drinking mass amounts of NyQuil mixed with whiskey, i was finally able to walk around in my dreams thinking clearly. i found lots of strange things, one of which was you, and a deeply seeded problem my mind has with people and hurting them, and how I continue to do so. My friend and I talked and talked, we eventually came to the conclusion that I should try and reach you.

So, after sending you emails and not getting any response, I gave up. But the intoxicated me tried even harder, saying ridiculous things, blaming things that weren't at fault. Doing things, which at times i wish i hadn't done. So now I'm at a standstill. the problem I have must be dealt with on my own. I feel like I need to talk to you, and this I can not understand, honestly, I don't even know what I would ask you.

hows the weather.
your life?

shit like that I guess. I'm just scared. and i hate thinking about this everyday. I thought it would just go away, but everyday it just gets louder and louder. I don't know what happened.
I guess I feel like maybe you could have given me answers.
I remember a promise that was made, I don't know if you do, its possible that I dreamt it, I don't know. You once said something that gave me hope for a future. a promise for assistance, I'm sure i fucked that up though with the numerous physical interactions.

I realize I've been harassing you through these letters. and that is the last thing i want to do to anyone, especially you.

I apologize with every bit of love and compassion and sadness that i have. i don't know if that makes since.
I know I'm not supposed to talk to you anymore, and I will respect that. I'm just trying to close a wound i never knew I had up until a few months ago, this isn't a pity party, I just don't want to never talk to you again. that scares the shit out of me, but, communication requires two people, and i respect your wishes greatly, and I've fucked up this situation one to many times.

I hope you read this, i hope you are happy wherever you are.

I'm getting a really funny tattoo in a couple of days

it says, in a speech bubble


that's what i saw in my dream.
i don't think you remember.
and i didn't think that i did.


I used to believe blankets could protect me from anything.
They were bulletproof. Unstoppable. they were my saviors.
I would always have to sleep with them over my head,
to gain full protection, you know, against Aliens, people standing in my doorway,
and the occasional Sea Monster. I did live in Florida, but no where near an ocean,
It was more that i couldn't deny the possibility that wherever these sea monsters may be
There is a chance that one day, soon, they will learn how to get on land.
I would need my blanket for this. of course.

12, maybe even 13 years later, i still need to sleep with the covers over my head.
Still for protection, now its different though. Now, its people looking at me, noise, and still
the occasional monster.

Now, there is a girl asleep on a mattress in my house.
Its not my bed, but a bed in the living room, its hers for the night,
 borrowing it, renting the space. She is using a sleeping bag, The best when it comes to blankets,
full body coverage, and thick, which just multiplies the levels of security. She has it wrapped
so tightly around her. i wont dare take it away from her, she is safe, she is sound.
But, now im left without a blanket to throw over my head, no security.
no safety. How am i to sleep? i mean, if i doze off, what will be there to protect me?
certainly not her, certainly not a blanket.

So now im awake, every 20-30 minutes or so ill go in there, hoping that maybe she will not want to use it.
watch her as she sleeps, every now and then she'll talk, surely to people in her dreams,
telling them how safe she is. I'll sit there until i get cold, then ill walk around the house
Smoke a cigarette, drink another beer.

yea. do that

Once upon a time in Olympia...

So, everyday i wake up around 10, or 2, or 9 depending on the day i guess, crawl out of my room, Literally, because i don't have a door, so i put my desk up against the wall where the door should be, so i have to crawl under my desk to get out, it makes it kind of like a cave. I like caves. I guess, I've only been in 2. They're neat, despite the humidity and spiders. I go into my kitchen, which is normally clean, and also normally filthy as of late, i feel like people stopped caring about it. The kitchen didn't stop caring about you, ok? Its there when you need it, why cant you be there for it, I'm there for it, i live in it. I put water in a kettle, i heat the water up until it boils, with our gas stove, then i make some coffee, its normally alright, I drink it probably because i dont have anything else to consume, and I've got to do something when I wake up right? i stopped smoking. for the most part, I'm smoking right now, but this one doesnt really count, its my first one in 4 days, and I'm not really enjoying it that much, i mean, i am, but not really. I get on the bus. There's normally the same people on it everyday, but now that college just got back in session, there are some new faces. Sometimes people will try to talk to me at the bus stop. it always happens the same way.

My Name is (x)
My name is Mac
( i try to pick up something, like a stick or leaf or paper, and rip it into thousands of tiny pieces because i'm so nervous)
Do you go to school here?
Oh, what are you doing here
I dont know.

conversation over. And if I'm lucky the the bus pulls up, we get on, i listen to music. If they're really hell bent on talking to me, they'll sit next to me and try to continue conversation, it normally doesn't work.

I end up at one of two libraries. the downtown library or the Evergreen State College library, the reason why i say the full name is because on the bus route it says TESC and i always think its funny that the "The" in the name gets its own letter in the abbreviation. I go inside the library, I either use the internet, and look at pictures of cats, or check my email, or read about neat things on the science front, or go to the books and try to find cool comics or books by Haruki Murakami, they normally dont have either.

I then go home, stopping by the grocery store on the way, Ralphs Thriftway.
Not many people like Ralphs, but i do, its a funny place, and the people that work there are even more humorous. I know everyones shift, so i know the right times to go in to see the people i want to see, not that i talk to them, and they dont talk to me. But they know who i am, and our simple conversations always have much more meaning than conversations i have with any of my friends or strangers.

Will this be all?
Do you need a bag?
No, i live across the street.

I say the same thing everytime, and they know what im going to say, but they ask anyways, just to make sure. Its a smart thing to do, people constantly change their mind, who's to say one day that maybe i will want a bag, or maybe i moved, and i have to carry my groceries a far, far ways a way.

I go home, I go inside, and They are normally on the couch, or in the kitchen cooking, they say...

Hello! where were you
On the bus, you know, at the library (they know)
Oh, you want some food?

I crawl back into my room, most the time i wish that there would be a cat waiting for me on my desk, as i would crawl through the hole leading into my room the cat would curl her head to look underneath the desk, She would see me upside down, with a really curious look on her face , as if to say

Who's there?
Its me

She would know.

my native tounge.

Lately I've been realizing how futile the language I speak is. English, obviously, describes things in a manner that seems to literal for me, there are no metaphors through words. Of course we can create metaphors and irony and sarcasm and humor through our definitions, but I feel as if the architecture for the ideas I try to portray is lost in the simplicity and concrete structure of our basic speech. I stutter. I pause, I take forever to just try and create the simplest of sentence because I feel like if I were to just talk, it would come out wrong and be taken in a way i can not stand. I don't know, Spanish is beautiful, and I feel like the flow and format of the most basic phrase is better suited for my needs.

But I don't speak Spanish, and probably never will.

one more wall.

Sunday, October 3, 2010


I've been a fan of Jens Lekman since the first day I heard his music, and now I have discovered this fine young lady through him, check out this song, it is fucking amazing. and the video ain't to bad either. Sometimes Swedish/Chilean pop-music is the only thing that keeps me going.


I feel the need to start writing things down again, my brain is overflowing with memories and emotions and it's getting to be too much. Hopefully this will help me, it's not as nice as that pen on paper feel, but I'm forced to not be private in this manner, maybe someone will actually give me some advice on getting through everyday, and learning how to be happy with myself and the world again. After experimenting with chemical means of attaining happiness, I'm afraid that i have permanently ruined my brain and it will never function the same again. But maybe I'm just a paranoid hypochondriac. Who knows.

maybe you do.

what the fuck.

So, I fell asleep with a loaded gun in my mouth last night, I guess i was really that drunk. woke up and i was drooling down the barrel, hope it doesn't rust. Now I need to figure out how to drive my brain again.

what up.