June 20, 2013

  • Austin

    Just sitting like a dog waiting for my computer charger to come in and hoping that I can finally have somewhere where I can lay my hands down and type. This has been so long for me. This has been too long for me. Writing is my own comfort and therapy in a world where I've entered to find myself invisible. It's my FAULT I keep moving and isolating myself and moving and isolating myself and making things fresher and tougher and fresher and tougher and I can't help but wonder how anything else could happen. This is such a blessing! I forgot about the freedom I had when I was staring at a white page.
    Let's talk about a couple of things:
    I need to keep a diary again because it is important to have things to reference.
    So what happened in Austin.
    This is a grueling month. This has been. May was. I know it is long ago but it still carries tire tracks of dredge on me. I can't be blamed but suddenly, all the people I started talking to started moving on!!! I watched as my therapist sold her house and casually started packing things into boxes. She's going to Austin. I watched as my friend made plans to head out to LA. I watched as one by one people's dreams started coming true-my coworker applying for a new position. And I knew it was time to leave. I could hear underneath me my neighbor plicking away at his acoustic guitar and I knew that I had fear and I had doubts and I had worries but at the same time-I've never had those things before. Why were they here now? Fuck the fear fuck it all. I have so many bad things yapping at my heals, I have dark shadows in my closet but I will tell you what, I knew for a fact as the wind was howling and slamming the windows shut-that I needed to hightail it out of St. louis. and I did. White rabbit. Free white rabbit. He wasn't going to be there this time to paste me on his shoulder.
    Fuck the bastard.

    So I went ahead and ended up jetting out of this goddamn place and made my way to Iowa. I rented the Uhaul myself. I contacted friends to help me load it and did half of the work myself. I did almost all the work. I was so exhausted that I lay down on the wooden floor afterwards and collapsed into sleep. Then I drove it down the next day. As I got there, my friend and roommate helped me move everything into the apartment. I went to drop off the uhaul. Then my friend told me we were leaving THAT night no exceptions. Why the fuck is this happening I howled. I was so fucking tired. I needed a break but I was not going to get one.
    We drove to Austin like it was life or death, in the meantime I was getting threatening emails from my landlord and the exhaustion and stress with that combined put me in tears. Then we kept driving and driving and the rain was pouring and the only thing that made up for it was I convinced him to stop at In and Out and I tell you what there is nothing on this planet that could've made me happier. There I was, eating my sandwich and shake and california dreamin'. All the way, baby.
    So we get to Austin and we're sleeping at his friend's place and we might have had a nice meal or two but the rest of the time, grueling and unforgivable. The first show we went to I was in a good mood, had some brews, then I asked him if he'd go out with me. The response?

    "Let's wait and talk about this later"

    We didn't talk about it. We didn't talk about it until 3 weeks later. I was discouraged, upset, pissed fucking pissed. So I went on alone that night. Drank a lot, enjoyed myself, met up with him later and repeat process. All in all, I talked to a bunch of random fucking people that you would never expect to meet at these things. I went alone by myself and got a tattoo of a horse skull which was fucking painful to get and the hilarious part of it was the guy asked me if I was okay and I started crying-NOT because of the pain of the tattoo but because I was mentally FUCKED in the brains. Then I met up with Andrew who used to be in writer's workshop. I enjoyed my time with him a lot even though he spoke a lot in "filler" and bored me when he talked a lot of the time. I stopped by the tiger baking company and grabbed a lot of tiger claws which are delicious. And I ended up doing cocaine the next night. I was approached by a man while I sat in front of the bathroom and he just gave it to me, inviting me to come to his giant hotel room later. I enjoyed the coke and then later, my unsuspecting ASSHOLE of a partner never had a clue that I was enjoying sex for the first time on coke. The night after that, I met a mexican who took me to a bar and treated me the most expensive drink I've ever had (and not paid for) which included tequila with a scorpion in it and it had a spicy spicy taste. I was glad to be so drunk and grateful but I will never see that man again.
    We saw Bushwick Bill which my partner found inspiring (probably because of similar short statures) and I found to be a harrowing experience. During the performance, Bill had a hard on the WHOLE time. THE WHOLE FUCKING TIME. This is not something I would ever consider to be enjoyable. I really honestly did not enjoy it one bit. I hope I never run into an instance like this again.
    We raced back home and things have been rocky ever since. We had a talk recently and it turns out lo and behold that somebody is still just entirely stuck on his ex girlfriend. WHO WOULD'VE EXPECTED THAT? I guess the only way to get a man's attention nowadays is to put his balls in a vice and enforce how sorry you are when you cheated on him to the point where he believes it. What a gullible fuck! !! I can't wait for him to try and talk to me again. He's guaranteed that he'll help me move my shit when I move out, so that's all I need from him. Otherwise he can shove his dick where his feelings are. Speaking of, I still have his Bushwick Bill shirt. A good piece of apparel to remind me what a fucking boner he is.