putting the scales away
makes four different types of clunk,
all books from the same library of metal sounds.
i bought flowers today but there was no you to give then to
when I arrived home.
I shoot up gear and I think of you.
What does that say about you, or me, or us?
last night i was 36 hours straight,
speculating on a decimal time-keeping system,
What a project that would be.
The new era of mankind, not wood nor fire nor even information.
This would be the Dawn of the Straightening Everything Up Age.
Where people like me become kings, only People Like Me (PLM) have abolished kings so I can't be one.
PLM's platform would loosely be:
We've been on earth for 3.5 billion years.
Nature has shaped our bodies just right for this environment. we've made some choices - Walk on land, Stand upright, 2 sexes, etc etc.
(I don't recall seeing the sign-off on those particular choices, and I'd like to know who chose female as the womb carrier...)
Anyway, the point is, mother nature got our bodies right. Now it's up to PLM to straighten up the loose ends of society.
Everyone will become right-handed, everyone will follow decimal time, lunch at midday (10 hours)
Am I so stoned that I am wanting to contact S, should I listen to myself when straight? I can't seem to go over a day and a half straight. Should I ring S's friend, S5(?) - I rang her as S left and she told me it would be fine to cut S off w/o contact. The justification was that S was breaking my heart and she shouldn't expect to be able to continue as friends with me.
So much to do.So much to analyse. Perhaps my S was in collusion with her friend, telling her what to tell me. So she would be left alone once breakup occurred.
But my S contacted me constantly until I broke it off with the infamous "I can't make this weekend" brushoff. So horrible, so cold, so necessary. She was seeing me only to score. I was feeling like some kind of, I don't know, some super loser that's definite
Later that evening....
Scored again, on my payday. Anyone out there surprised?
Honestly, (and I really intend no irony or facetiousness here), it surprised me a little. For instance, good friend Jet had SMS'ed me Thurs night about Friday payday scoring and I sent him a rebuff saying basically "leave me alone in my pain". Sorry Jet, no offence meant, I am just suffering at the moment and taking longer than decent society normally allows for such things. How rude of me! (joking)
"A quiet impulse" - a lovely phrase. I just heard it echoed in a song by the Mountain Goats. I only discovered them in the last few months, and now I have a slew of their work from the early 90's. I had believed I was purchasing the "collected works" of the Mountain Goats, yet yesterday little Bek referenced "Little Plastic Boy". I looked it up in my 17 Mountain Goats' albums but it wasn't there. Not sure why she mentioned it, possibly that is how Bek sees me, I will source the lyrics and have a read. Either way, it doesn't handle the reason I started this sentence.
Quiet Impulse. That's me. That's what I wanted to say. I live as a quiet impulse. Sun-drenched Brisbane spawned me. Or maybe my parents spawned me, who knows. Just spoke with Dr T (my GP and metro script writer, or "croaker" as Burroughs would have said, but this Dr has none of the croaker about her) who says parents are often the blameholders in my sort of "case". I paraphrase "case" because it is not a standard case, e.g. Gout, where there is a remedy and a chance of Success and a chance of Failure, Hmmm. I took a little too much gear in that shot. I was trying to ensure I do not end up using again tonight....is it possible if I am holding mucho gearo?...will find out later tonight. Anyway took too much now I am finding it hard to string sentences together. I should use a tape recorder coz the thoughts I have don't seem to be that bad, I just cannot (in Scottish I would say kenna) get it down on e-paper.
So what to say? That I had a theory last week that S and I were destined to use 2 grams a week between us, so with her being clean this last month I have had to take her share and hence I am paying the price of a baby habit. Not a thing I have ever wanted for its own sake. And a habit is something that in the last decade as I have become a little more aware of my surroundings, I have built up a dread of. Yet here I am, nurturing and growing one through deliberate actions. Deliberate but uncontrollable, if that makes sense to anyone other than a junkie.
Maybe I should do a Junkies 2007 calendar? Pictures of junkies in various states of disrepair, from the "Pretending to be a real worker, on my way to work" to the "I'll blow you for a taste!" stereotypical back alley image of dealer and nubile young fem-junkie. Here's a scary thought. Why have I not reproduced at 35, going on 36? Well, everyone that meets my parents says how lovely they are, how polite, how good. And then people say the same things about me. So I think, "I am like my parents". Then I think, Well, my parents ended up with a junkie son, is that something I want? Would I do anything differently if I brought up a child. I would not treat them badly on purpose. My sins would be sins of omission, as Ogden Nash said in his great poem.
My parents pushed me into rowing (as a cox due to low bodyweight) then never saw me row. Is that so bad? They didn't have a car. I don't even know if the above is strictly true. All I know is that I grew up feeling alone, ignored (at times). Feeling that my parents were providing all the necessities to keep me going, food, shelter, education, plus nice presents at birthdays and Christmas. My health was looked after, so what was wrong? Saying "I felt abandoned" seems a bit lame, but it is true. I felt like a wind up toy pointed at the world for no particular reason. Maybe it was just my exposure to my mother's nihilism and education. Hell, I hate writing things like this, they always come back to bite you. I love my mum and dad truly I do.