Category Archives: writing

967 days later…

Memories accumulate over time interlacing overlapping each other causing fog to form at the base of one’s understanding. We see people in passing who at one time understood us; perhaps even loved us and whom we used to love to. They dwell between the nether regions of our souls; a place dark perhaps distraught from years of neglect and solitude.

When you see what it really is
that is what you’ll “get”
Got it?

I don’t know why I saw her tonight. I don’t know why she was there dancing. I couldn’t understand the memories that surged yet understood why and how they became.

We ingested copious amounts of drugs together. We partied days at a time. Not hours. Nor evenings. Days. 72 hours? 3 days turned into weeks for me. Months. Years. Passed.

It broke tonight. The craving for intoxication. Annihilation. Emptiness. I saw her and all that was is. All that will be was forgotten.

Nine hundred and sixty seven days later I remain sober of GHB.

Fuck, the last two weeks became stupendously hard for me and I don’t know why. It was all I could do but work, draw, write, sleep, not sleep, be, not be, freak silently while the cravings raced over me, through me and around me. How can this be? How!!! Talking to someone here in this freaking city is irrelevant. People here in this small town have no clue. NONE.

So, I will talk to you. You who will not judge, nor react. You who will accept. You the unknown, the present tense of life.

It melted away tonight. As quickly as it hit, two weeks later it melted, evaporated. It’s been a long long time since I’ve craved like this. Maybe the longest it has ever lasted since I quit. The whole of the month of April, 2008 has nearly strangled me with… the words just don’t exist to continue writing right now.

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Artists Tip #15 – The truth behind the struggle

vintage bead handpainted by artist Jessica Doyle

The truth behind the struggle

You hear people speak of the struggling artist. It’s almost a romantic notion to have that said to you or about you if you are in fact an artist. I hate that notion. You never hear of a struggling physician or a struggling carpenter. Only artist’s seem worthy of such a negative, yes NEGATIVE, connotation attached to their trade of choice. And it is even their trade of choice? Continue reading

Feel Good. Not Guilt.

Feel Good. Not Guilt.

Hard to Read?
Click the image and become my contact on flickr so you can see (read) the larger scan of this journal entry as I am OCD when it comes to writing.

A page written in the moleskine cahier on November 15, 2007.

At the time of writing this I was nearing the end of the dreaded Paxil Taper Caper!!!

I began reading back today, and realized this entry wasn’t so bad after all. As time passes we all forge ahead and adapt to our ever changing environments.

The taper symptoms have since disapeared. đŸ˜‰

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An entry in which only train-of-thaught could endure.

logo.gifeyesandfeet.gifOne could peer through the memories of her life. Only she necessarily could become not withstanding of her own sanity. Going from pen in hand to digital key tapping has been, but a transition of assembly to a more resounding thump on the back of my head. Thump thump. t.h.u.m.p.

There are times I want to go crazy.
Writing words without restraint and logic.

This discovery of a beast long laid to rest a thousand years ago. Beyond memory, beyond physical destiny there is perhaps a conciousness building.

Is paper like pixel? Is a keyboard fingers?

Does our mind see it as the same or different…

…or both?

I type. I type. I type to you into the unknown.
This is all unknown.
I can only guess who reads what it is, that is written here.

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halfing like atoms and writing styles searches turns into constructive possibilities to increase legibility for kids and what they are teaching at one university

…every time a baby is born it knows everything it needs to know in half the time of those, who birth him. Every subsequent baby born thereafter will follow in the same respect. Then the need to learn will evolve into the need…

we are atoms. The earth is the largest of its kind. It pushes outwards birthing atoms that recycle; forming larger bonds with other atoms. Until a shape is formed they maintain a cylindrical outline. They push together doubling. One invisible and one visible. They can be seen but are still transparent. Are these two atoms representing the two sexes. Two sexes can become one. Asexual. They reproduce as they die. They are just pushing together creating another advancement in human physical form. It would eliminate sex in our terms of understanding sex (2006). Sex is something you choose to do. But it is more about what you…
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