sacramento and December as usual. dark early, before most get off of work and left scrambling home in cars, in trucks, playing catch up on freeways and phones. dodge a quick slip and in surmountable. with numb hands, a broken finger, and recent surgery, the hyper sensitive feeling is limited to its presence. feels like it felt like. before the diagnosis, before the year, before the decade of listless and lacking fingers. to feel the space between the keys here and now is surreal and just for the one digit. I remember a couch on brown st in tempe, second storied and we lowered it with ropes from the balcony. "this may be the last time I feel your skin". late spring in the doctored arid desert southwest. one 2009. I believe I believe I believe. to play a sort of catch up, life has happened. the chair to desk ratio right now is off. must have installed the desk too high and well its too shallow. using upper body strength to keep the hands ridiculously on the keyboard. 515p and its dark past the possibility of driving without head lights. my first cup of coffee today, just an hour ago and still sipping. Low is on. another first but for life. their new album came on randomly when zomes turned itself off. be it aliens or just enough to cause said disturbance, but I felt it and still do.
as of late and new to the tackle box is/was a second and dirty bout with depression. heavy mental instability. everything I owned had someone else name on it. not the first time I've thought this through with seriousness. I reached out to a few that made sense and all the while, I started to lose the control of my tongue while speaking some words/letter combinations get awkward. nothing screams of the lack of confidence like not being able to speak correctly. words like allegedly, increasingly, and even Texas were words of worth. none know of greater appreciation really. man, 01/04/14 just popped back into my head.
hard to believe Vermont lasted as it might have masqueraded as. landed there in December and by January I was in full relapse. on pills and not myself, I ended things with her, and plotted an escape back to whats turned into some sort of sacrifice and rambunctious solitude. the days here have been spent physically and mentally always elsewhere. the last two months after the last car vs bicycle wreck have been mind numbing, but I'm almost through it.
the pin in my right ring finger comes out tomorrow, my financial woes hopefully will be revived come January and through cold water immersion, practiced heavy breathing and more and ore sugar free, the depression has shelved itself for what I hope to be the last time.
tribalism is real and I cut those ties I thought to be steeped in friendship. difficulties in wanting what skateboarding provided for so long, even twelve years later. the power of acceptance and accepting that I, too, am a bit different than most of those I spent time, really, chasing. what comes with age, what comes with priorities, and early retirement. no I haven't a nest egg (anymore) to live off of. I just found a route I thought seemed fitting and comfortable.
a dead guy, his old bike, and nightmarish paperwork really got me. paid for the bike in august, arrived here in early November, and paperwork finally straightened out and titled in my name in December kept me from having a livable paycheck since...well, august.
I've been eating once or twice a day since. I haven't left town since. I basically quit doing anything to cost money since. pinching pennies like I never have before.i only hope that when moneys flowing as it used to I am able to remember these tougher times and remain on that plan to save. I know everyone else does it daily, but god damn I wasn't put here to clock in and clock out to make someone else money by throwing my time and energy away.
its too easy for the masses to simply say "but everyone else does it" so what, thats their issue with a lack of life.
diseased, broken, depressed and in constant pain, thats not for me. to find a way to escape that existence and I have for the last two years, but I also had 40k in the bank to pilfer, blow, and lose.
years go I had a friend, I don't hear from her much anymore, who always pushed me writing a book and I started. maybe 40 some typed pages in and I quit, lost steam while trying to keep traction. maybe that will start up again? maybe ill learn Spanish like I tried before Cuba with Simone. I've always been a good gift giver and feel that I've always bent over backwards for friends. "hey, I got hit by a car going 30-40mph while on my bike, I really could use a soak in that hot tub." "sorry, its broken" 3rd times a bitch and while you're only reading of that one instance, its happened two other times, plus a slew of other let downs over the years.
but its cool and its leading to another chapter of some self guided stumble down another darkened sidewalk. just don't forget that rosemary patch at the corner. its always able to give a simple sensation of a simple sensation. break off a sprig and walk 2-3 miles with a branch dangling from my mouth to keep it close to my nose without having to hold it there.
to wonder how long this writing experience will last and who would even read this backyard shack ramble. trumps still president despite...everything.
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