Be Careful Who You Borrow From

• The Alex In California Matter
• The Power Of Three
• Motivation

"You can pay me tomorrow..."

I started doing a shot of kratom just about every day, which cost me 3 dollars initially, and then $3.24 after they decided to put a tax on them, and finally $2.93 after they decided to give me a "local resident" discount.

This was fine, and I thought I could live with a daily bill of 3 dollars.
Of course, then Lancaster, my weed dealer, who is on methadone "treatment," and his roommate, who said he himself "was up to 36 grams at a time of that stuff; trying to get high," began to discourage me from "wasting money" on it.
"Kratom's great," said Nathaniel at the Uxi Duxi after I told him of my friends advice to me.

The kratom that I was taking was enough to focus my mind and give me a desire to work, but at a cost, perhaps. It was work for the sake of work. I wrote stuff that I never posted, and I began to doubt that anyone would want to read it.

I even lost some of my ability to converse with and bond to the tourists who came by when I was playing at an amazing level.

It reminded me of a movie called "Phenomenon," which starred an aged John Travolta and was about a guy who was endowed with supernatural abilities after being hit with a beam of light that came out of the sky. For example, during a short trip to visit a Spanish speaking man who was sick, John's character sped through a Spanish dictionary and then spoke fluently with the guy when they got there, and even cured him. Of course, by the end of the movie he had lost all his friends, and just wanted to go back to being his plain ol' self.

I was connecting the dots and visualizing music in new ways and playing fast and accurately. But, I had much less desire to share the music or to feel that it connected me with my fellow man at any level.
This kind of permeated everything I did. I began to view my fellow man as just animals. Ones that could walk and talk; big deal. Only better than cockroaches in our own opinions.

I still think that music is one of the finer arts, as it comes out of the fingertips and so must be one of the most delicate and intricate things that humans are capable of.

But, the feeling of awe kind of diminished.

In the meantime, one of my longtime blog readers has fallen away from reading, even though I was cranking out 14,000 words per sitting (but only posting bits of it) and my friend and weed dealer Lancaster slams the door in my face now, if I knock, and even Lilly, who had been calling me every other day, hasn't called in a week.

It seems like there is something different about me in their esteem and they don't like it, even if they can't put their finger on what it is.

But, maybe this is a better me; and all those relationships were fostered through my weaknesses. Maybe kratom is what an all knowing shrink would prescribe for me to counter "under performance." 

I would say: "Wait until you hear my CD and how much better I'm playing," but I fear I might record it and never bother to make copies of it, due to a "who cares?" belief.

Tanya Huang; The Last Frontier

Now that I am more like an unfeeling machine, perhaps I'll be partnering with Tanya Huang this fall, and earning 30 times as much money, and sharing her "It's just a bunch of notes to fill the tip jar that don't mean anything special" philosophy.

Had I been spending 6 bucks a day on a double shot, then I could have been accused of doing it to get a buzz, as that amount made me feel the way I did when I was taking the Vicodin that a dentist prescribed a few years ago.
And, the kratom taking entailed visits to the strange place that played strange  Burmese music and was redolent of incense, and where crystals, and mushrooms and things like bundles of sage which can be burned to ward off evil spirits were sold alongside shelves full of books on "divinity" and Wicca and creativity and that discipline that Madonna got herself into (Kabala?) which did wonders for her, I imagine, unless she was going to shed her slut persona anyways due to age and slowing down, and not spiritual reasons.
I think that, by just going to a place such as that, I may have opened the door into the "spiritual realm" which I have always found to be something which, the more you believe in, the more it exists.

So, on the night my bike was stolen, before it had been, I had gone there and tried to pay for a $3 shot off my green American Express card.

The transaction wouldn't go through, and I had no cash.

"You can just pay me tomorrow," said Kia, who looks kind of like Annie Lennox, if Annie were a witch.

So, I left there, owing 3 dollars for a shot of kratom, with a slight dread that I would have a sub 3 dollar Saturday night.

When I encountered the skeezer looking guy sitting nearby the pole where I locked it, I also saw that there was a cigarette box laying in the road near the sidewalk.

I decided to test the guy. I picked up the pack and looked in it to see that it was empty; I also caught a grin on his face, while I was doing it, which told me that he had already looked in it and was probably the one who had tossed it where it lay. Being a skeezer, he couldn't resist the impulse to smile over my disappointment. It also probably warmed his heart to see a man so broke that he was looking in cigarette boxes.

But, it identified him as a low life, and I should have taken extra care in locking my bike, but I didn't.

The next day, after I had bought a 3 dollar all day bus pass and was on my way to pay back Kia for the shot from the day before, plus one for that day, it dawned upon me that, I had incurred yet another daily tab of 3 dollars, as that will be how I will have to get around until I get another bike.

I have half a mind to think that it is a cosmic debt which has to do with the fact that I borrowed 3 bucks from a witch and am now going to have to pay her back every day.
Be careful who you borrow from.
No Great Loss
It does hurt what feelings I have though, to have Alex In California just stop reading this blog altogether, saying that it is "no great loss."
It's like the saying: "Don't fault a man until you've walked a mile in his shoes," where Alex has kind of walked a mile in my shoes vicariously by reading along, and has decided indeed, to fault me.
Nothing To Lose
When I was in high school and ran track, my best ever quarter mile came when I was running the mile relay.

My teammates had fallen well behind, and, when I took the baton, the other runner was already making the turn around the oval.
This gave me a "nothing to lose" attitude, I suppose. I was actually happy about the situation. I think I would have felt silly giving it my all if I were in the lead.
The other team's guy really wasn't that fast, but he had about a 10 second lead on me. I focused on him and was able to block out almost everything else and go into a zone. I caught up to him right as the last turn went into the "stretch" and passed off the baton, giving our last leg guy about a 3 second lead.

I think they said it had been a 56.9 second quarter mile -about 15 seconds slower than the world record.

So, I guess I try to let myself fall behind, or put myself in situations where there is nothing to lose...