"A hardcore nigger is all he ever wanted to be"....Immortal Technique
Down with a cold two days now. Felt it when I lay in bed stoned next to S the other night. I was deep down and sickness was clawing at my soul. I asked S to hold ma hand. I told her I needed her. She told me I didn't love her. In the morning I asked her if anger made her more or less honest and she said she didn't know.
I think I know. Anger shortcuts the mind. You don't have the thousands of filters you normally put a comment through, words just come out straight off the mind's printing press. That's why arguments are so rapid fire. No bs. Just a frank exchange of views.
so things are clearer. Her being unable to touch me, no matter how much I needed it, spells unloved to me. No self pity, just recognition of a fact I have buried for a long time. When someone stops loving you, they stop touching you. This happened years ago. I'm just going through now what I should have gone through years ago. Of course I still get waves of anger at the deception but then I was a junkie too and scammed people for dope at times. Emotions become another currency. Some people rob banks, some prostitute their bodies, others just play lover. C'est la vie.
so wots going on. friday night. clean since i last used tuesday night. my recent patterns would indicate that i would use tonight, as it's been every third day sorta thing. that's the gestation cycle for a habit - once a month, once a fortnight, once a week, twice a week, every third day, every second, daily, and wham bam the little baby habit is born. he grows up fast u know.
sitting in a dark highgate hill flat, blood of previous errors besmirch the floors and doors. Modest Mouse warbles through the TV speakers my PC is plugged into. Air drum S out of my life, that's what I've been trying to do. Just drum and drum and drum until you don't think of her, smell her, even hear her. cold but is it colder than her actions. is her coldness any reason to be cold in return. has this exit of a relationship passed a point of no return, if there even is one? are there any words i can fashion into a sentence structure that will halt her movements, like some magical "Open Sesame" phrase from folklore. Maybe the Tetragammatron would do, an arrangement of letters that if spoken will produce god. The said arrangement of letters being god's secret name of course. Eco's Pendulum discusses the theories in more depth than I could ever hope to. But if I am to strive to produce a series of letters that reverse the forward flow of history, would I not be being selfish to use it to halt her exit? At any instant around this world there must be ten thousand people tearing their hair praying for the last few seconds to be obliterated.
As the shot dies away in the alley, as the vehicle plunges off the bridge through silent space, as the last beep of the heart monitor fades away, a chorus of prayers must arise from all points of the globe. Arise and fly, wings unfurled, only to wither in the ether. Unheard, unrecorded except in the scratches suffering inscribes upon the soul. And then, an instant later, a new flock of prayers arise from a thousand different points of the globe again.
Who am I to judge my history suitable for reversal? And I don't even have the clumsy hand of blind fate to blame for my loss. Every action was the result of a previous action, the way each checkmate of a king is dictated by the move of a pawn 100 moves earlier.
So deterred, I revile myself for wishing things otherways than they are. Be the Stoic, my inner voice whispers. Well, being a Stoic is damn easy when you are strong. But when you are hooked on affection you'll sell out all your principles in an instant for just a smidge of good stuff - a glance, a touch, any acknowledgment.
Wesley Willis comes on after Modest Mouse and changes the mood somewhat ("My mother smokes crack rocks")