Hey, hi, and hello out there. In the beginning, things were different. I didn’t know any better or any different. All I knew was this overwhelming urge to be numb, at age four. Fast forward 36 years and I feel the same at age 40 at times. I just wanna be numb, that’s it, that’s all, I quit! Deport, demean, go, leave, depart, withdraw, retire, forsake, desert, abandon, surrender, resign, escape, flee, abscond, stop, cease, discontinue, desist, and relinquish!
I’d say in the past I am not really sure why I feel this way about almost everything. Ignorance is bliss, right? So I write. I read. Then I write some more. I am sitting here right now, writing this, just two long but ever so short days away from having 18 months clean. 18 months huh? I have lived A LOT in those 18 months there is no doubt about that as the ones who read this, and probably laugh a lot, have seen. I have managed to get pretty far from where I was 18 months ago atop that dune at the beach, homeless and broken, welcoming death! Some would say, mostly me, that I have become less willing to accept superficial interpretations and simplistic answers to questions I was always to scared to ask. Be careful asking questions, Blackwell! I have read the words, “the first step to philosophy is doubt”. Stage one thinking, oversimplifying inadequacies is a thing of the past. Nothing and no one is immortal except movement.
It was some truth I set out after. I was in search of something real, ya know? Something or someone society had not sunk her diseased and corrupt claws into yet! It’s a long hard road to the middle let me tell ya! I guess it was a deeper inner peace I sought. I dunno! Again, I am not really sure. I got bored. I get bored even though my life travels a thousand miles an hour most of the time. Everything felt stagnant. Maybe it is the addict in me that always craves more, once again, I am not sure. I do know though, I have this insatiable thirst or hunger for more. Could it be some sense of self-preservation? An unconscious knowledge that if I did not or do not seek more or search for something better then impending doom would close in and overcome me? Bawhaha! Right!
Many compare their lives to books and even more so chapters in these books but I never see anybody writing. I really never see anybody reading anymore either though. Everything has become digital, computerized and robots are replacing man. I remember as a child growing up in IL, we had “alley’s”. That was where all the cool kids hung out and became the highways of my youth. Anyways that was where I saw a garbage man for the first time. He was hanging off the back of the truck with a Marlboro hanging out of his mouth wearing a Led Zep shirt and a red bandana. I remember thinking, “holy shit! You get paid to be that cool”?
I have said many times, especially in the past ten years or so, that all the legends are dying off. Whether that meant at the time someone physically dying or the fact that garbage men are now replaced by a robotic arm operated by some fat slob from the driver’s seat of the truck he has not paid his dues on the back off while listening to today’s “country” and sipping a Starbucks!
I feel like I am caught or stuck maybe. I am not sure how to explain it yet.
so is my life comparable to a book? Yeah, I guess maybe. If I wanted someone to read me and put me on a shelf, which I feel is happening at times. Also, books get judged by their covers as well, despite all the cliches. Books get burned. Books are bought and sold too! Nobody seems to have time for books anymore neither. If I was a book, what would the title be? I have time for books because I make time. A lot of my time is spent with my face in a book. I write a lot too. I guess you could say that I have ink in my veins. I thought about writing a book once but it seemed like a set up for disaster though.
What you know about Life Blackwell? “not much”…
What you know about Love Blackwell? “even less”…
I have come to a few conclusions though. As they may not have anything to do with or coincide with what is going on in anyone else’s life but are pretty prevalent at the present time in mine.
- To be violent is to be weak. I am not saying that bloodshed is never a requirement but for me, it takes courage and strength to be gentle, to be kind.
- Most people, especially early on, will not support me publicly or at all for that matter because of what seems to be their fears of what I am or have become or can become.
- It is ok to feel emptiness. I have this void and at times its need to be filled is more than I can bear. This emptiness, for whatever reason it is there, means that there is room to grow, room to fill it with what I see or feel fit when time is gracious enough to throw it my way.
I am not going to number these anymore as the ability for my hand to keep up with my mind has just left the building with Elvis!
I need an ink transfusion as I am writing more than ever before. I sit here and bleed on paper…
To call someone out publicly on their ugliness makes me just as ugly if not uglier than the ones I call ugly or what they are doing ugly for that matter. Everything I do is with the mindset of “gaining”. Whether that gain is personal growth, monetary, or just that warm and fuzzy feeling I get when I am able to help out another, it is a gain I seek. If not a gain I at least hope to maintain right? Where is the logic in losing what I have? No really, if you or someone you know has some, Please share it with me…
I have said frequently throughout my life that I have been there and done that. Though, I have lived in a lot of different places that have taken me across the socieoeconomic scale and back, I have not really done much! I used to think it was roots that I wanted to plant but am begining to think I really do have a gypsy’s soul and to wander would really not be a bad thing at all…
All that shines is not gold and there is no such thing as a free lunch. I am rich in ways that money will never touch. Is money the root of all evil? Maybe not all but some yes and especially the lengths that some will go to get it are! It is a necessity in Life I do know that for sure. Does the more you have make you more comfortable? I guess that depends on who you ask.I know that a simple smile and a hello with some moderate eye contact can change a persons day and maybe even their life. I know that the sun will rise again tomorrow and that this too shall pass, even the good stuff and the good times. I know not to be too busy to recognize and enjoy them!
I know happiness is not a sin!
I have come to realize that only I can save myself from myself and that dogmatic tradition has not done a single thing for me except to let me down time and again.
I have seen it proven that you do not have to be Christian to be a good person.
I learned that learning how to smile was harder than I could have ever imagined! I do not just mean to smile physically, thought that was an accomplishment in of itself book worthy. I mean smiling from the inside out. To smile and really mean it!
I turned 40 the other day. My body feels like that of an 80-year-old man. At times, I feel as if I have the mind and heart of a little boy and I am ok with that. I do not want to know someone that does not possess the ability to be a “silly heart” from time to time. My soul feels as timeless as time itself and is older than numbers could ever harangue.
I have not figured out for sure which helps more, crying until I laugh or laughing until I cry.
I know you can tell a lot by a person’s eyes, or, as some would say, the windows to their soul. The same could be said about someone’s hands and the way they shake mine. Are they soft and silky, lacking callouses? Or are they strong and firm with that leathery grip? steady….
I know for me it took giving up the victim role in exchange for that of a creator one. There is a fine line between venting and complaining and some people use it as a jump rope. I know that Love will fuck me up worse than any drug I have ever consumed.
So, what you know about Life Blackwell? Not much I guess. What you know about Love Blackwell? Even less still! I do know this right here though. I am Jay and I am an addict that has found a new way to live. And that new way is sometimes as different as it is the same each day.
So I ask myself again, is my life comparable to a book? Yeah, maybe in some aspects. I’d like to think of myself more as a song though. You see, books, sentences, paragraphs, and chapters will be the same every time you open the cove and allow your eyes to drag across them. Music though! Music has saved my life more times than I can count. Sure, if you write down the notes and lyrics they will remain the same long after the ink that bled them dries. But to play it, to sing it, over and over again for the first time! To not just listen to it but to close your eyes and hear it, feel it, become it! Yeah, I am more like a song or a symphony maybe with Life as it’s Maestro!
To those of you out there in the grip, I hope. We do recover! Look around! Let me in or just let me down already! I am Jay, I am an addict! Stay up. Stay human! I love you and you matter to me!