Tuesday, June 30, 2020

The Tipping Point

I think that people generally die shortly after their dream does, or maybe after the last one of them does.
It say's "I paid with my soul, and the change was this life"

Like people in long-time happy marriages who follow their spouse into the grave only weeks, or maybe days, behind them. Into the darkness...

I haven't started the fasting and purging and the spiritual quest yet, I have put it off for yet one day. One day closer to the abyss.

When I look around me, it is a panoramic view of everything that is wrong. In every direction there is something that I am remiss over.

I thought about taking a photo and then labeling things, using the letters of the alphabet and arrows and then indexing them.

The bed sheet with the cigarette burns in it, a reminder that I never did quit smoking; laden with books that I intended to read, subjects that I wanted to study, the Mel Bay books that I have been stuck somewhere in between book 2 and 3 since I was 15...

The TV that I had turned on and wasted hours of watching crime shows on, sitting atop a one quarter finished jigsaw puzzle.

The radio CD player that skips when I play CDs on it, which has something wrong with the FM antenna so I can barely pull in the stations that would have football game broadcasts on it, but probably won't because of a virus that might not even be real.

The dog shampoo that I bought for 2 dollars off a kid even though I don't have a dog -a kid who overdosed less than a week after that, leaving his girlfriend and their little girl behind. A girl who seemed to like me and would always strike up a conversation with me, who was pretty just like her mother, who was just crazy, who asked me to come into her apartment and look at her toaster oven that wasn't working, but who then freaked out and yelled at me to get out as soon as I had started to check it out...

The acoustic guitar with no strings on it because I haven't gotten around to ordering any for it; and probably won't until it comes down to either new strings or my next pack of nicotine vapes...

The sign that I made which reads "To see my ma," with the word "ma" being the MA over the shape of the state of Massachusetts, that I had planned upon using to hitchkike to that state, busking along the way; a trip that has been put off each of the past 8 years...

The keyboard that I don't practice for 3 hours a day, next to the jar of colored pencils that I hardly use to draw, and then the laptop in front of me that I haven't been blogging on, when I used to blog almost every day...

The rug that I haven't vacuumed...yet, upon which sits the weight that I haven't been using to work out with. The stack of CDs that I had planned upon listening to, in order to broaden my musical acumen....


The drawings hanging on the wall, which are pretty good and show a promise that was never realized...

The bottle of wine sitting next to me which will soon render me into something like a blubbering drooling imbecile in a bar somewhere....

And that is just this room.

The other room starts with the plants in the window that just won't grow. Stunted and yellowish, despite the plant light that will supposedly ruin my eyes if I stare into it and the Miracle Grow and the water, which comes from the tap which probably has heavy metal in it which is causing everyone here at Sacred Heart to slowly become demented.

The xylophone that I haven't used yet on a recording, the snare drum that hardly gets used, the basket that I used to use as a tip jar in another life, years ago in a place that is no longer the same.

Lilly has not texted me back in 6 months. She may have gotten cancer and passed away quickly, and her phone thrown away by her grieving daughters.
She was my protector, allowing me the privilege of busking on her front stoop in what would be the Park Place of the whole French Quarter, if it were a Monopoly board; that is probably gone now...

And then, there is the pile of methadone that I have been saving up; from each time that Bobby has felt sorry for me, and has given me a "wafer" of it, on each occasion that I told him I was feeling a little down; his way of offering me the only solace that he knows...

I'm going to sleep now...there is too much to cover, I haven't even gotten to the kitchen..never mind the world outside my three windows...and the wine is already starting to catch up to me.  I just didn't want to leave this blog the way it was.

I hope to get back on a regular routine of posting every day again, like I used to...

This blog will continue to automatically post, by the way. (using the "scheduled posts" feature) until the last one appears, in the year 8,262 (when I would have been 6,300 years old). Some of them will be pretty humorous I think, unless the sense of humor of human beings becomes warped along the lines that humanity seems to already be following; then future generations will just think this is stupid; if they think at all...

But I don't count on that. Google will probably stop allowing free blogs, at some point, after it is passed down into the hands of a generation even more selfish than the gen x one. All blogs not attended to will be deleted unless someone forks over bit coins or whatever. Why care?

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