03/13/05 - I thought I'd post this before I lose it forever. not two months after this was scrawled out, I found out my Mother was an alchoholic, and had been one for the last 18 years - basically, my entire life. I never had a clue - or did I?
What is wrong with my life?
After I get through this day, I think I'll have to back up about 3 fucking months, 'cause none of this is gonna make a lick of sense, and it doesn't even make sense to make. But I need to write this shit out, cause its all pent up inside like graffiti on a subway wall. Its ugly, its all twisted contorted and its all made by me.
I got up at about 3 pm today, I should say, I went to sleep at around 5 am. Yesterday was Dhalia's Birthday, she turned 21 making the age difference between me (19) about as blatant as a man with a gun going down a sidewalk of tears taking down people he just doesn't like the look of that particular day. Of course, she being shallow and I being still pretty much straight edge - tired of working my ass off to keep the little space I have of this world, she goes to the 16th street Mall in Denver, I go to sleep at 7pm. People who turn 21 get served free drinks and get stamped with blue shit on their head. Quite the entrance to adulthood and conscious drinking. Welcome to the America of greed, corruption, cheap thrills and headaches in the mourning - Colorado style.
Shit like this hurts me. I can't stand alcohol, its effect on people close to me, to my own brother, to my favorite author - anything. I can't physically take people binging in front of me. I will hit them until they run away. I certainly can't take it when someone I love decides to do it. Fuckin read a book, write down a poem, do something fuckin' productive, find out there is more to live then escaping from it. Whatever, do it away from me.
At 1:30 am, she, with the help of her friend, comes stumbling in, I took a leak, and opened the door to see her about to explode from the mouth with must have been the frolics of the now waning night. I came back out of my room 15 minutes later to find her on the floor of the bathroom twitching and shit, all in this little ball. I asked her if she was ok, she nodded(?) I asked her if she wanted to go to bed, again, some movement. I picked her up and dragged her ingested beer soaked hair to the water bed and said seya, leaving a new trash can down to catch any more glee that happens to fall out.
Man, if I could pick one thing to do when I'm 21 it would be this. Holy Shit. Sign me up. Allow me to burn on the bright alcohol flame of unthinking. After you turn 21, its not cool to drink. What's the thrill? Its fun when you're 13, sneaking out the back of the school with the half full bottle of cherry snappes. Running around the baseball diamond in a half-buzz - no one really paying attention anyways, everyone felt you were a weird child anyways. Welcome to the fact that you're now a marketers target bringing sexy men and women in shiny ads to lure you into drinking the burning water.
I'm writing this at about 2am, since I'm not going to be able to get to sleep on this little futon of mine with all the crap that is never used from the living room, which was moved a few hours ago for the party. I don't know what's more self-centered than throwing your own birthday party.
Got up at three today, Dhalia was up amazingly and stirring in bed asked me "what's up" and came with extended arms. I wanted corn flakes, not her. I finished my mighty good flakes of golden corn and did the dishes. she wanted to know what was up (again) so I crawled into her bed reluctantly and looked up. She knew I was pissed - I've been pissed a lot these few... months. I'm sick of my job, I have no money and I'm presently not attending school for financial reasons. Of course this afternoon gets into a little routine we've been doing every few weeks, where I'm absolutely done with all that life has dealt with and she wants to know why I don't talk to her, why I'm being an asshole, if I love her, the 10th degree. These arguments as they become are almost scripted. I hint of a breakup, she gets upset, I try to console her and I cave. I so want out of this relationship, its going no where and its scary to be so committed to one person. I'd rather be just alone.
At about 4, all was mended together, and I even said I'd attend tonight's big festivities of cheap liquor, crappy music and all her nerdy shallow friends. At about 6 she went to get the booze with her new superpower of an age and I started to crap.
You see, I don't just have a dislike for alcohol, I have a blatant mental problem with binge drinking. I found myself in the little ball, shaking in my own room, uncontrollably. Like when you get really anxious or scared and you want some kind of fuckin' old soiled blanket cause you see a ghost. The door when thud and I decided I could NOT DO THIS. I got out my backpack, threw in a drawing pad, pencils, and art history book, a book about cartooning, a few bucks and got out of their in a panic. I flipped basically. I hit the wall kicked another, threw the phone, which shattered in that hollywood slow motion way. I tried to fix it, the batteries came out so I pushed them in. The phone was in but didn't turn off or give a dial tone. The back was stuck, so I threw it again at a convenient wall, like little bits of glass. The phone, now unsalvageable was piecemealed back together and hung up.
I decided to drain some off the alcohol we had in the house, this blue stuff that smells like the bike chain cleaner, some cheap gin - I hid all the shot glasses under the dogs bed and slashed the blow up cooler. I got out and headed to campus. I looked the door twice and kept myself from losing it as I made my way to the Art Building's computer building to read. I got from the library (somehow my card worked... I think the librarian made my card work) and got some weird ass book on McLuhan - a self appointed expert on mass media. The book basically said he was just bullshit. Something to the extend of [something I can't remember...is] all fluff and no filling. Did you know that the differences in Left Brian - Right Brain activity is bunk? Well now you know. I've read entire books on this theory. Total garbage. Too bad, its easy sometimes to take a topic science has a minimal idea on what's actually going on and over simplify it. I basically read all night. At ten, I went to this horrid coffee shop on campus and had a 'mocha' and read some art history. I met a friend of mine, Josh Bruns, and we wasted some time. At twelve, I went back home. I opened the door, pushed everyone out of my way and got to my room. I didn't even see what was going on. I needed to piss from the coffee but who knows what was happening to my bathroom.
I rigged my window open and pissed outside. My urine was hot and the night was cold. I grabbed some undried clothes (we have a washer, but no dryer) and headed out my window to the laundromat. A guy on my front porch looked on as I scuttled away with a big trenchcoat. I hope he wasn't packing like a machine gun in that thing. The laundromat didn't have a change machine that worked and I forgot to bring mi books. I watched the dryers turn in their mesmorizzing way from quarters snatched form Dominos, reading about a guy who told everyone he was the brother of the former Shah of Iran and took hundreds of thousands of dollars from people and businesses in Denver. He always said he'd give the money back, told waitresses he'd hire them to be a personal servant at his yet unsigned 9.3 million dollar house, I mean this guy was like those comic book super villains.
Clothes were dried, I rigged my window open from the back yard and brought the dry clothes in. The nerdy engineer party was still going strong. I barricaded myself with the TV and a crap bin and started typing, not knowing really why and not knowing what I'd do with this final manuscript. Maybe I'll just select everything and: Delete Delete Delete. Maybe I'll post it to the world and be embarrassed.
There's something incredibly wrong with the way I'm acting right now, and its all fueled by stress and a feeling of not being able to control my own life. I dream of living simply and painting all day. I dream of not having this girlfriend love me. I dream of not being a tool at work. I wish the drunken, laughing people outside my door would go so I can have some tea and go to sleep. This mocha (what did they put in it?) makes my fingers jitter and mind race. Everyone has their own addictions and everyone is a hypocrite in their own self-denying way.
What makes me physically sick when people get drunk in my house? Am I just scared to be social? Am I worried I'll become an alcoholic from one night of spirits? Am I just messed up and sick and pent up? I think the last three months have gone by and all I can remember is going to work, going home to work going to sleep and waking up late for work. All I have to show for it is 20 grand I owe the University for one failed semester.
(03/13/05) - This night ruined my relationship with Dhalia. After the party was over, we had a confrontation. I remember her wearing the worst pants I have ever seen on her. She asked where her clothes were. I told her, they were dirty. I cleaned them. Things are fuzzy after that. We fought. Badly. I realized how much she meant to me, but it was too late. I remember. I remember how I destroyed her bedroom door with my elbow. I kept smashing it. The door. Not Dhalia. Never fucking hit someone. She was not pleased and felt in danger. She locked her door and I spent the entire night crying out loud. The neighbors heard, that's for sure. I made a drawing of a bosquet of flowers and hung it on the door to hide the damage I had done. One of the worst nights of my life.
This night - this relationship - this part of me seems so distant to who I am now (3/13/05). Almost as if it's only a faint memory of a movie I once saw. Things are for the better for me now. I do paint all day and am happy. But, it's still strange. Dhalia doesn't talk to me. Josh doesn't talk to me. My boss doesn't talk to me. I no longer live in this town. I don't destroy stuff when I feel panicked. So strange, so strange. Sad. In a good way.
