…on shame, fear and hope…

I am ashamed of so much that I cannot speak

I fear the mistakes I always seem to make; yet I am aware of them; yet I make them. These mistakes harm no one but myself. They are self-inflicted wounds inflicted over and over and over again.

I have hope that I can change

Arkansas, Memphis, Miami and Raphael

I couldn’t speak. I tried. But she didn’t want to hear. She didn’t say that and yet she managed to. I was diagnosed long ago in her eyes – everything is fine, everything is fine.

I wonder if:

A)     Things are so bad for her she doesn’t want to think that its that bad for me therefore she tunes it out

B)      Over the years I have created such a façade of “things are alright” that now when I try to speak no one really hears

But I didn’t encourage the truth either; whenever I came towards the truth she would steer me back towards her version of it, and I didn’t take corrective action. Instead I kept to the path she was driving us both on.

As a child, Arkansas was quite the gymnast – she won medals and took national awards. And now her eldest daughter, Memphis (12) is following that path. Next week she is flying to Estonia to take part in an International tournament. 

Miami (6) is an actress, she fills the room with energy. Hours later, at such a young age, she already showed signs of the brooding artist – tired and grumpy, she smacked her little brother and ignored us all in a fit of tantrum.

And Raphael (4.5) is like an angel – white, blonde, quiet; a momma’s boy dominated by 3 woman who must be wrecking havoc on his life. 

Things I [want/should/ should want] to do

Spend time with the kids, there is hope right there - their eyes see the world as an open playground. Though they don't know it, a world of potential lies before them.

Hunger

The physical kind, is there - it was not said though I can hear - because I know it myself.

Yesheroom No. 4

Im a block away from my cousin’s place, sitting on a street corner. I’ve been sitting here for about 15 minutes. If you asked me 15 minutes ago if I was going to make that call to her – and let her know I was coming – I would have not had an answer.

But as im sitting here im thinking, well, ive walked this far, and worst case scenario is I’ll go in, say hi, wait the “expected” hour or so and then head out. But do I want to make that call? To put the effort? To go ahead and go in?

I pop an oxy, 2 actually, 40mg each… then wait 5 minutes and pop another 20mg. Ive learned to chew them before swallowing – this breaks the time-release mechanism and makes achieving “the high” an instant gratification sorta’ thing. Though it’s all relative, of course, since my body has built quite the tolerance. 

10 minutes ago – which is 5 minutes after chewing – I dial my cousin. I think she’s surprised that I actually am coming.

I haven’t seen my cousin in well over 2 years, though we’ve been within 20 mintes walking distance for that much time.

Though about 10 years older than me, this particular cousin is the most like me – the black-sheep; just a bit off; she doesn’t give a fuck. Though if we’re gonna’ be real then like me on some level she probably does. Well, actually, I take that back. Ive always thought her to be the very definition of a free-spirit. Her with her big mane of red hair and grin the size of Arkansas. What does that mean, “grin the size of Arkansas”?!  Who says Arkansas is big? Not when compared to Texas or California! But it has a ring to it, right? SO IF I STARTED USING IT I wonder if it’ll get into everyone’s every day lexicon. Probably not but do me a favor and use it if you get the chance.

Arkansas has 3 kids… and I don’t recall all their names. I know one, the baby, is a boy and is called Raphael. I remember that cause it was such an odd name (for our family). The other two are girls… and for the life of me I know not what to call them. So I’ve decided that I’ll just make a joke of it, no, actually, as im writing this I realize that will be stupid, im better off just being honest and asking. Cause Arkansas is a whack like me so she’ll probably see right through any verbal shenanigans I toss. 

Pot is her thing, at least that’s what I know. But like me, she probably has secrets, though unlike me she’s not one to hide – which tachlas leads me to conclude that yes, indeed, “pot is her thing”.

I wish I can go in there and be open with her, tell her what’s going on, how I feel. But I can’t. I knew that before I sat down to chew the oxy & smoke the cig.

Or maybe I can be open with her, to let it out and spill the beans. I don’t know, maybe I can though what exactly will that achieve?

I should go in there already, I should just hit “post”, shut the laptop and head on over there. Cause right now the high is kicking in, its not a rush but a mellow high, and the shit part is since I have such high tolerance by now that it wont last so long, and then the slow painful fucking down shitty down starts throbbing pulsing sneaking its way in.

I should place a pill in my pocket just in case I stay longer then expected, this way if/when I need it I can “go to the bathroom” and chew the fucker.

Ok, ok, cig is almost up so… I think im about 3 blocks away so I’ll smoke as I walk, Arkansas lives on Yesheroom Street, No.4 (who the fuck comes up with these street names?). But at least i will remember it - sounds like shrooms, right?

During high school - 11th grade - my shroom phase - one day my friend and i got high off our asses and sneaked onto the backlots of Universal Studios; this is something I would do often but only invite certain friends to join. So we got in, walked around some major Hollywood names - and pretended we fit right in. But we didn't, we were caught, and got kicked off the lot. It was worth it.

Alright, whatever, I gotta' go, wish me luck, gonna’ hit post and head on in…

you are my plans

So im sitting at the Kasbah, nursing my coffee.

It's nice weather today; yesterday, the rain cleaned the air, now the remains of the storm – just scattered clouds – are doing a slow-dance across the sky. Timid, shy, confused yet daring...  they drift close, merge, then draw apart. Like they’re flirting with each other.

I look at my cell, on impulse I dial... my cousin picks up.
She seems so happy to hear me, and it feels good to hear her.

"Come over," she says.
"Well, uhh, no, i just called to say hi."
"Hi! Come over!"
"But you probably have plans!"
"You are my plans."

And though she cannot see me, i smile.

bathroom wall-posts (at the Kasbah)

In the heart of Florentine is a small café – the Kasbah – which is [practically] the only café I go to-- here I feel comfortable, perhaps due to the fact that I took up my current apartment around the same time the place opened... so I'm like a fixture, and there's not much stability in my life.

Inside the Kasba cafe is a bar which I used to sit at – min: 4 shots vodka and at least 15 smokes. Before they banned indoor smoking, that is. But I guess when i quit smoking I'm sure I'll appreciate it. You see, I'm planning to quit smoking. Then again, i've been quitting smoking for so long that maybe i'll just quit quitting, which seems to be a more realistic plan.

The bartender, Sharon, is more beautiful than she knows, and what she knows is bittersweet. Bitter to the world which has always been bitter to her, and sweet to those whom she lets enter her world. She is a self-proclaimed loner though she proclaims this to many strangers.

She used to date the owner – who owns the café/ bar with 2 other friends. But that went down like flames. Which makes sense because they weren’t meant to be.  

In fact, had I wanted to initiate, I could have had her. It’s not ego speaking, its just the truth. Plain as day. But, well, I don’t really let people into my life anymore. There is a wall which apparently I care not to break. 

Now Sharon no longer works the bar. And I no longer sit at it. In fact, I don’t really drink here anymore. Except for coffee which I take strong like fuel and black like mud, sitting in the farthest corner of the patio I can grab. 

Soon, Sharon will be leaving for school in Germany. It doesn’t really matter, I don’t see her much except by chance on the streets – but still, I know she cares for me, and I care for her. 

I got into a stupid habit: writing on the bathroom walls. But only here, in the Kasbah’s bathrooms. After about 9 or so bathroom-wall posts, I’m pretty sure the owners, staff and barflies know its me, but no one says a word. Indeed, when I think about it, these wall-posts were my first dip into anonymity, so maybe all this is meant to be?

One second, now… I’ll run into the bathroom and read the 1^st post… hang tight.

 ***

OK! So I’m back, here goes, drum-roll please!... the first bathroom wall-post ever written by me, Jared, reads: 

This is the first time ive ever written on a wall. I wish I had something profound to say.

 -March 26, 2010

Engaging writing, right?! Yupp, abso-fucking-lutely engaging!

Anyhow, the posts are random… but have progressively become more involved.

Here are several pics:

Unfortunately it was too dark in there to get a clear shot… but one day, maybe, hopefully, I’ll return to jot them all down and type them here on your behalf (but don’t hold your breath, my word is as solid as jello so, well, you know. At least I warned you).

who am I, anyway?

I am from LA, though currently living abroad with work.

I know a lot of people. A lot of people know me.

If you saw me walking down the street you wouldn’t guess such inner-turmoil drives my being.

I am driven.

I am just me. Anonymous Jacob now Jared now a brand new blogger. I am me.

Are you there?

I am 32.

I work a lot. Maybe too much. But my work no longer fulfills me.

I don’t know if I’ll continue doing it.

Sometimes I want to give everything up and just travel, see the world.

But then again, sometimes I’m so tired of always wanting something else; sometimes I’m tired of myself.

But earlier this morning I made you a promise! So I will jump in the shower now, get dressed and then head out for some fresh air. If I see anything cool I’ll snap a picture and post it – maybe you’ll like what you see. Maybe through it,  you’ll start to see me :P

... are you there...?

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are you there?

i just posted an account on Technorati and figured out how to submit this blog.

because in order to be heard someone needs to be there to listen.

i hope it works.

hope is the keyword here.

hope - in any form - is a good thing.

Usually the mornings are better

If I have slept well – which I did last night (which was aided by 8 .25mg bondermins) –  then I wake up feeling better. The bondermins soothe my mind which runs runs runs, and so they give me quiet and allow dreams in.

So when I wake up, as today, right now, I’m OK. 

I’m sitting here in the living room and thinking, today I’ll head out – its Saturday – and maybe introduce you to a bit of my world.