she doesn't return my text.

she doesn't return my text. i'm not surprised. or upset. maybe i'm relieved, i think i'm relieved. (and she's not the only either, no one has this week).

___[
___Therapist: do you think there's a problem?
___Q: ___no. there's no sign of a problem.
___Th: __really?
___Q: ___yah really.
___Th: __you know what the thing is? the thing is you never see it.
___Q: ___...
___Th: __what tends to happen is, you wake up, and you're 50, and your family has left you, and your friends hate you, and there's no one around and you're all alone. and you're great at your job and it suddenly occurs to you that you don't care. and that's all you've got. and now there's no time to do anything about it. it's too late. that's the problem.
___Q: ___is that what you're seeing?
___Th: __yes. ______do you sense it?
___Q: __  can i tell you a secret?
___Th: __sure.
___Q: ___it's worse than that. ___... i already know it's happened. it's just time before i screw it up beyond repair
___Th: __...
]

no one all week. (but wait, i'll get back to that in a second:

**___ in the evenings, when i walk home, i've been staring at people. i can't stop staring at them. the beautiful girls and the pudgy boys. and the teenagers with the ridiculous hair. and i think, it's a river, it's a thought that just moves from person to person as i walk: who loves you? and you - who loves you? is it him? it is? do you feel like she does? can i sense it? - if i stare at you. i hope somebody does, you deserve that. (maybe even... _)
___[ Q: ___no.
____H: ___ what do you mean?
___  Q: ___ it's this horrible feeling i get after sex.
___  H: ___ ...
___  Q: ___ like, i look at her. and all i can think is: someone should love you. leave this. leave here. find someone who does.
___  H: ___ ...
___  Q: ___ and, f&ck, i can't believe i'm about to say this___,
___  H: ___ ...
___  Q: ___ and. i'm thinking it to myself too. y'know? i'm telling myself the same damn thing. who is this? where'd she come from? why are you here q? just... anyway, ___.
___  H: ___ oh q. [as she puts her head on my shoulder and my arm around her] whatarewegonnado?
]

and all these beautiful ___in the evenings ___coming out of the gym , is it for somebody? is it for you? will she notice? is it still the same?

___*___*___*
- why didn't they text you back?
- i wouldn't text me back.
- ?
- dude, how can anyone put up with me? i'm here one minute, then i disappear for weeks without a word. then all of a sudden i'm back. who can keep up.
- well. you're doing your stuff, you're handling your busi-
- no. nono. no. i'm just a prick. admit it. i can. i can admit it. i'm just a self-centred prick. i'm not there for anybody. i can't be. i just descend into myself, into all the things that terrify me. and i fight with them, and when i come back... there's not usually anyone around. and that's okay.
- ...
- it is.

___*___*___*

it is okay. it is okay. it is okay.

i amuse myself. two weeks ago, on a wednesday night. i stumbled to my couch, hand trembling. taking big, voluminous breaths. who does this? i thought to myself. who gets drunk on a wednesday drinking straight whiskey and then sits down and reads Harold Bloom's introductory essay to the Complete Poems of Hart Crane.  (which i have read four times. and never the poems themselves. Hart Crane is hard. but the essay makes me happy. i love reading people write about things they love, things they believe in. Harold Bloom loves, believes in Hart Crane. it makes me happy, the sincerity of it. so i read it. from time to time).
___(my roomate comes in a week later. i have my football tucked under my arm - it comforts me somehow - and i'm holding the whiskey, and struggling to hold Bleak House open above my head, but it's too heavy and keeps falling on me. jesus dude. )

** the Seattle Seahawks, their pre-game psyche-up mantra is
we all we got / we all we need.
i don't believe that.
______at least,
____________not the second part. ***

___*___*___*

when i was 16, i remember my mom asking me if i was alright. and i said i was. and i felt like i was. very alright. completely alright. i felt perfectly alright. and she said oh baby. we won't know yet. we won't know for a long while yet. one day, we'll know what i've done to you.

___*___*___*

please help me words. please help me. you used to. you used to be all i had. i believed in you. everything i couldn't say in any other way you were there for. what's happened to us? why is it so hard to say what i mean now? why do i not mean anything? maybe that's the problem. maybe it's that i've stopped meaning anything.

___*___*___*

she asks me if questions can run on. oh girl. you don't even know. there are no answers, the questions just run. on. across. around. on and on. not an answer in sight. it's just a field of questions. like rabbits and landmines.

___*___*___*

it bothers me when i dream of you
i hate that you're there ,
we don't even speak, it's very civil
you just... you do your thing.

___*___*___*

one day i'll find a way to

______one


____________d a___y

things that haven't worked, a list:

+ hiphop.

+ having sex.

+ having more sex.

+ not taking pills.

+ taking pills.

+ taking more pills.

+ not taking pills.

+ reading Dickens.

+ taking a walk to get some air.

+ buying things i don't need with money i don't have.

+ buying more things i don't need with money i don't have.

+ running till my legs shake.

+ lying on my couch and staring at the ceiling.

+ lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling.

+ listening to on the line on repeat.

+ texting you, knowing that you don't want to hear from me anymore, because last week you gave me one last chance and i didn't know what to say because i don't know what to say because i don't know what to do think be - but i don't think i have any friends and even if i did i miss compiling end of year lists with you and now i don't know who to do that with and i'm not sure what this the all is was f&ckf&ckf&ck ___f  &   c  k_________.

+ masturbating.

+ working out. (heavier. heavier. make it hurt. it doesn't hurt enough. make it hurt more. ok, you can't physically lift that. fine. fine. you know what, half the weight. lift it 40 times. that'll show you. again. no? no? ok. run till your legs shake. oh. you know what, that's not an excuse. rowing machine. another 5 minutes. another 5. another 3. your arms are cramping? fine. walk home. but you're not allowed to eat for 5 hours. that's what you deserve. lick that.  ___who are you? ___)

+ writing variations on neruda's first lines (it so happens i'm tired of being a man).

+ not texting you. texting other people. making them laugh. undressing them. being confused about why it didn't work. doesn't work. can't work.

+ not having memories.

+ staring at my bookshelf.

+ waiting for it to rain.

+ opening my piano lid, sitting silently with my hands in my lap for 7 minutes. getting up. closing the lid. walking away. (___what a sad song that was___)

+ taking a shower.

+ washing all my sneakers.

+ icecream.

+ cinema.

+ movies at home.

+ aimless internetting.

+ iphone games.

+ texting you.

+ not texting you.

+ calling my mom. (and not saying anything)

+ scrolling through my contacts list thinking who i can call, knowing full well i won't call anyone because i wouldn't know what to say because because because. (___because is an open parenthesis that has no close. it's the ledge. just... is. and we all sit and stare, waiting to see what happens. but nothing. just silence. because is a word that has stood us up our whole lives. you know why? ___(

+ not drinking whiskey.

+ opening my windows for air.

+ showering again.

+ working on apps.

+ Southpark.

+ Community.

+ starting a conversation with the old lady sitting besides me at the cinema. ( wishing i knew her better. she was sweet. she made me feel happy. i wanted to be near her. i wished she were somebody in my life that i could visit. and change her lightbulbs for her. maybe once a week, i could time it for garbage day, so she wouldn't have to take the trash out.  i hope she doesn't have to take her own trash out // i hope i'm not sitting here writing this. )

+ going to mom's house.

+ having an amphetamine-comedown panic-attack and demanding to be dropped off at the train station at 11pm Christmas eve. ( // being disappointed when they didn't know you can't listen to anything i say when i'm like that )

+ not writing because i refuse to be a mopey sad internet blogger.

+ writing mopey sad internet bloggerisms.

+ listening to the rest of Cupid Deluxe. 5 times. each time in reverse order, last song to first.

___*___*___*

i give up. 

done:doing / things / stoppage time

___nocturne.

all day i've worried.
measured myself in bathroom mirrors:
__waistline and grade point average,
reputation and shades of dark under my eyes.
__it bothers me that i respect my exhaustion so much.

i'm under every bed,
whimpering and scribbling ideas for personal statements:
__ways to hide the shadows of self-unactualised me,
unsure what it would mean to fail at this one.
__or succeed. i can't find any meaning in it, beyond: do.


___*___*___*

___Oct-Nov-Dec.

i've given up trying to understand years. time used to mean something. maybe somewhere it still does, not here. ___i've stopped understanding myself. for one thing, i can't tell the difference between what i'm doing and what's being done to me. i see sun, i lay in it. someone suggests a book and the title stays with me, i read it. no idea why. i wake up, i walk. i walk. 50 minutes each way. every day. i hate waiting for the bus one morning it must have been pleasant and i took off walking. never stopped. ___sitting, waiting for my coffee she hands me her number. this has never happened to me before. i call it, no idea why. i can't think why i would. but then, i can't think why i wouldn't. seven days later she's half-naked on my couch. i'm kissing her chest and smelling her neck, but the whole time i'm thinking who did this? did you do this? do i? do we? how did this thing happen, i wasn't driving. (what is done, and what is doing - gone).

- q-dear, are you alright?
- ... [i can never say 'no'. silence or a grunt of some form is code for 'no', but then i surprise myself:] no.
- ... [now she's speechless, i never say no] what's happening, what's going on?
___what can i tell her? i fall asleep drunk more often than not, i'm maxing out on every pill in my cabinet, my gums bleed all day i can taste myself rotting, all day i chew gum to hide the taste and smell, and to distract people from noticing my decay, it's noisy in my head i can't tell sunday from thursday my internet stopped working weeks ago i can't remember if i have friends or not  i just move - i have a pattern of movement i just repeat it.
- i don't know. nothing. i'm worried. i missed the cambridge deadline.

that was before. it's better now. 

all night there are footsteps outside. it used to scare me. now i know: possums. bush-turkeys. lizards. snakes. bats. they're so loud - when i first moved here i was keeping a wooden post besides my bed to attack the marauders running laps in my backyard all night. sometimes now they comfort me...

it's 3am. i've been working on this since 8am. i took the day off work to finish it. i've been hopped up on speed and green-tea for weeks i can't feel my tongue and i've been chewing the same piece of gum since after lunch. the windows are all still open and a paper-thin moth knocks itself against a lighbulb. i ignore it. then five. then twenty. my entire ceiling, my desk, my lamp is quivering with them. i only notice because i tap my laptop screen to move one aside. i look up, and smile, and keep working. i pick up a paper, put it back down. pick up another bundle, shuffle through, find what i'm looking for, throw them all back. all the while the moths flutter about. now their wings occasionally become detached when they pick the wrong stack of paper to land on. i'm usually saddened when i kill something. but this seems... different. i feel like they are being absorbed into a dreamscape. they are part of a magic sequence and are entombed in it. in a year, it's the first time i've ever seen them, so i figure they are a distinct feature, part of the quality, of this particular, unique moment.  i keep working. when i look up again - at 3:47am - there are no moths left. not on the ceiling, not on the table. no where. i don't understand where they came from, or where they went. or how. (what is done, what is doing). i just move, i keep moving. to the couch. where i read the newest draft.

december is always the heaviest month. i hide from everything. avoid people. avoid my liquor cabinet. avoid thinking, no thinking. move. just the pattern, just the steps. wake. walk. work. walk. gym. walk. sleep.

___in a way, this is it. i didn't know it was, or would be, but it is. when i started, i thought, well, if it doesn't work out this year, we'll try again next year. but actually, we won't. either i'm good enough, or i'm not. either it happens, or it doesn't. i've done all i can to prepare. my 5-year plan has run its course. now i write my statements, and i hide my blemishes, and i sing my songs, and


___*___*___*

i don't know what to write about anymore. i know that i miss writing. i used to need to do this. it used to remind me who i was, and who i wasn't. it was a way of looking at things, and seeing adventure and erotica and tragedy and romance in little tuesdays and dented afternoons. now it's just haze. a unified mass of what else could it be? a self-fulfilled proposition that takes me for granted in its design. my days just are. they are a fact, a truth. but they don't really mean anything to me anymore. they just go. like a river. i float. i paddle. i don't know why - instinct? habit? i don't know. but i just proceed through it. edging on. 
___and it's noisy. and sometimes it goes from thursday morning to sunday night and i don't know what happened. how. whether it was something i said or did, or whether it just happened to me. whether it requires any input from me at all. whether i'm a passenger or not. who are you? why are we undressing? are you doing this? i thought you were numbers on a piece of paper, how did you come to be here?

she leaves.

i walk to my bed.

and start shaking my sheets to find her detached wings.

monday night lights

i'm playing the piano. Satie's first gymnopedie. i've played this three times in the last fortnight. i'm not sure how it's happened, but each time it reminds me more of Seattle. of Mar's couch. of all that. i don't remember listening to it much during those weeks. it must just be the sound of how i've chosen to romanticize that time.

it ends. i close the lid. get up. i have a bottle of whiskey stashed away for nights like this. but in a hospital on the other side of town my friend is giving birth to a baby girl. it would kill me if every time i hold that baby i have to remember i spent the night of her birth on my couch, drunkenly staring at my ceiling. for whatever reason, i decide that it would ruin her life. demean it. i'll have to stick this one out sober.

i walk back to the piano. open the lid.

Sunday morning she was here. she told me she liked the moonlight sonata. i didn't play it for her then, so i start to play it now. my loneliness is a physical object. i sense its contours. my next door neighbours, the hippies from down the hill a-ways - the girl hippie comes into the kitchen. i can see her making tea. i make an effort to play well. i want to comfort her. i want her to like me. i want us to have a moment that will make me feel less lonely. so i try to play very well. i hear her tea-spoon strike the side of her cup gently, and see her put it down softly. she's listening to me, attempting to be quiet. i'm pleased. she lingers a moment in her kitchen. i can't see her face, but she is wearing a large green tshirt. i'm lost i secretly make the notes of Beethoven's moonlight sonata say that for me; and wait to see if she responds. when i next look over she's gone away. back into her own world. i'm alone. with a strange sound emanating from a large wooden music box. i stop playing.


___*___*___*

- i think i miss j-bird.
- you think?
- i think.
- you do.
- how do you know?
- i've lived with you long enough.
- [i bite my lip, i'm annoyed at this] maybe i'll call her.
- call her already.
- maybe i will.
- what're you going to say?
- that i was wrong? that i miss her. that i'm an ass. something. i don't know.
- so call her.
- i will. ___later. 
- later?
- yah. later.


___*___*___*

i ask to the borrow the car. he gives me a look: are you sure you know what you're doing? what a silly question: never. but i need this. he thinks about it: i thought you're missing j-bird. clearly he doesn't, that's why i need this. he shakes his head and goes to get me the keys, saying that makes no sense. he's right. it doesn't.

i come home four hours later. my skin feels weird from sweat and semen and lube. my abdominals hurt. i'm dizzy and i fall asleep before i have time to think.


___*___*___*

my dad is happy to hear my voice. i haven't called him in three weeks, he was worried. what's going on with you? i don't know. so i tell him i don't know. what i want to say is i'm ashamed. i don't know of which part exactly, i just don't think there's much point in speaking to people. i don't tell him that. we talk about my exercise regimen instead.


___*___*___*

she likes the moonlight sonata. i'll play it for you later i say. i'm sitting on the oppositest part of the couch. hoping to just wait it out until she leaves. or my roomate comes home. either one. she's a nice girl. she shouldn't be here. i see where this is going. it makes me sad. the conversation continues, i'm not sure what i'm saying. she's reading something from out of a book. she's moved closer to me. i lean over and kiss her cheek. very softly. she keeps reading. i kiss lower down, near her neck. softer. i run my lips up towards her eye, kiss the corner. ...
... ___she lunges at me with her mouth.

goddamit


___*___*___*

- i had the stupidest monday.
- me too.
- it was horrible.
- me too.
- it was so bland, not even bad, just dull.
- me too.
- ehm.
- ...
- ...
- so you called j-bird yet?
- a- _____,_______no


___*___*___*

after the gym talk, he asks what's really going on. my priorities are screwed up. my life is aimless. i know i have to fix it. and fix it now. i just don't know how. i keep thinking about it. but all i come up with are circus sideshow distractions. he listens quietly.

several hours later i'll order clothes i don't need off the internet with money i don't have and feel better about the world for 40 seconds. at least i will have gotten through a few more hours.

all these goddamn hours.

just the shells of pistachios - nothing on the inside. just keep cracking them open, one after another.

monday slowly sinks.

my island grows smaller.


___*___*___*

when i next look over she's gone away. back into her own world. the light from her kitchen is off. i'm alone. i stopped playing weeks ago.

40 hours.

it's about midnight when i get home and see the email waiting for me. i take a deep breath and scan , looking for the un in unfortunately or con. it's quite long, it takes a few scans. then: right. yes. un.

something in me knew,- stop.

just stop. it's important not to think. i turn on an episode of friday night lights. watch five. when that doesn't hold my attention anymore it's about 6am. i put on some shorts. whatever tshirt is on the ground. start running anywhere. after 10 minutes i'm breathless but i can't go back. i can't be there. i'm too ashamed to be in my own home. my castle deserves a better master. 50 mins later i come stumbling up my steps. ashamed at not having been able to stay away further. i can't be here. i can't. i must disappear or i must leave. there's no other way.


___*___*___*

when he wakes around 8 i've drank half a bottle and i'm lying on the couch doing not particularly much. i've managed, despite the rum, to stumbled through a shower and half dress myself.

- get dressed.
- mmmmno. mmmmmaybe. wait. __wwwwhy?
- you're coming with me to have breakfast. and look at a few houses.
- doooo you know i haven't slept in ininin.... 27 hours?
- yes. and i know you can probably barely walk, but i don't want you home alone all day. no telling what you'll do.


___*___*___*

i'm a little clearer when he drops me back home in the afternoon. i lay on the couch doing more nothing much. something in me kne- stop. nono.

i put an end to that with whatever's left in the bottle. 


___*___*___*

when she arrives i'm back on the couch.

- oh dear.
- you are in deed.
- didn't go well then?
- no idea. what. you're, talking. about.
- how much have you drank?
- no more left. need more. let's go for walk. but later. when i can walk again.


___*___*___*

i dressed myself. the shower felt nice. i'm calmer. where's my towel? (i get her a towel). walk her to her dinner party. hey, go home and try to sleep will you? how long have you been up? not sure. (i count in my head) 38. 38 hours i say. you must be exhausted. except i'm not. go home, leave the key in the mailbox, i'll check up on you later. not one bit. i leave her at her restaurant and walk the block a while.

i have a new bottle. just in case. 


___*___*___*

i get home. undress. text my mom back because she's starting to worry. which is starting to annoy me.

and collapse.

 

sunday chit-chat

when he gets home i'm lying on the couch doing nothing much.

- what are you doing?
- feeling miserable.
- how many?
- none.
- no-pill sunday?
- yup.
- how many yesterday?
- 2-pill saturday.
- that's alright.
- yah. it's alright. i'm feeling it now though. tomorrow's gonna be murder.
- it's gotta be done.
- yup. yes it does.
- you want some food?
- na. thanks though. i just wanna lay here and whimper a while longer.


___*___*___*

- hey, i don't wanna have sex tonight.
- what are you telling me for?
- i feel bad about it.
- what? why?
- supposed to meet a girl tonight - it's taken weeks to get on the same schedule, we set this up earlier in the week.
- so...
- i can't do it. i don't know why, i just can't.
- you don't know?
- no, i know. i know. still getting used to J not being around. been so busy. i just thought it might unwind me a little bit. but... i just don't want to.
- so... don't. call it off.
- yah. i'll call it off.
- ...
- man i can't.
- can't what?, call it off?
- no, no. sex. relationships - all that. i can't. i don't have much more of this in me.
- ...
- i'm going to oxford. i'm gonna get it done. i'm gonna get married. the end.
- i've never heard you say that.
- yeah. but i been thinking it for a little while. i think it's time.
- is it that easy?
- yah. you know what you want. it's easy, you just keep an eye out. you know how many good people are in the world?, keep an eye out you'll meet an incredible woman. we guys, we got it too good.
- dude, those pills are messing you up.


___*___*___*

it's sunday-quiet.
i have french doors leading outside from my bedroom. i leave one door open to let the sunday-quiet in.

it's a lonely a night - and there i said it - the L word. faced up to it. look how big i've gotten. all mature and self-aware and knows to say the L word when it needs to be said.

i had lunch with my parents' marriage therapists (don't even ask how that happened). just saw her and sat besides her and ate my sandwich and chewed the fat.

-... you know you just speak in terms of benefits and opportunities. that's just you. and you're articulate and charming ...
- ...
- ... your personality type - most CEOs are your personality type. high-achiever types. even the self-doubt, insatiability - all of it. you're a stereotype with a capital S you know that ...
- ...
- ... emotions'll kill you though. Achilles heel. crush you ...
- ...
- ... so you're scared. big deal. look under the bed. tell yourself you're scared, and you'll feel better ...
- ...
- ... you gotta learn that, that it's okay to have emotions. that it's actually alright to feel things. and that you're gonna feel them anyway, you might as well own up to it ...
- ...
- ... you listening?
- kinda. in parts.
- is this hard for you?
- it's been a long few weeks. I thought we were gonna sit here and eat our sandwiches in the shade.
- i spent a decade listening to your parents talk about divorce - listen to me otherwise i'll spend the next decade listening to you and your wife - 
- ...
-  - or maybe just your wife, you'll be hiding under a bed somewhere pretending you're not feeling anything.
- ...
- you want your cookie?
- no ma'am.
- gimme that. price for good advice.

that place / gamechanger

here is the quiet place ,
i can hear flower petals in the night
and when my knees shake i think i believe in god
and, maybe, even myself.

here i do not move.
some few hours a night i lay still.
and try not to be scared of everything i'm so close to.
maybe, even myself.


___*___*___*

it's the scariest thing in the world to want something. not 'oh yah, that'd be nice', i'm talking want. it's a pain. a vulnerability. because if you want it, you put yourself out. you're vulnerable. a flick hurts to the core. a win is an earthquake. i'm on the precipice of a gamechanger. straight-up. the big leagues. i mean it. son of immigrants. confused. never once in ten years knew where i was going. cried on the couch of so many friends... how'd i become this. so close to it. effing big leagues.

i got my suit pressed. bought a new shirt - so that i can do up the top button and still breathe. got a haircut. shaved my beard. i'll get my shoes shined next week. will pick a tie. i think my grandfather's. i've got seven days to climb a mountain. and the whole time, fight against a job that's driving me nuts from 8am till 1am everyday. against that and everything that that means. everything i can leave behind if i can just hope my way out of this and into this.

(i had not known dreams could be this true).
(i had not known dreams could hurt).

i am almost invincible these days. i'm more tree than man. and somehow,
all i want to do is crawl up in someone's lap and cry. i haven't felt that need in years.


___*___*___*

- i read an article about emotional unavailability
- right.
- it was like... some stupid chick magazine, '5 signs that say he's emotionally unavailable' - something like that
- hmm
- and i was like omg, this is q! you were every single sign.
- and?
- every. single. sign.
- how have we been hanging out all year and you've only just come to this conclusion?


___*___*___*

she cried.
i clutched a pillow to my chest till it was all over.
but i'm right here. even if you're you, i'm still here. how does that not matter?
all i could hear were the possums creeping around the trees outside.
whatever. i don't wanna talk about this. forget i brought it up. #toosoon.


___*___*___*

i'm getting younger with age.


___*___*___*

more people believe in me than i realised. i'm humbled by this. i don't understand it, but i'm humbled by it.


___*___*___*

it might be loneliness. maybe that's it.
this is the problem with my obsessiveness. my single-mindedness doesn't permit derivation or distraction. i'm consumed by it. the wants - when i'm brave enough to engage with them demand everything.
everything must be given she said - i recently read the Satanic Verses - it's one of the refrains, everything must be given.

(& so it is with life.
everything.

till i am dust, panting.
and the cracks in my bones finally feel free enough to exhale.

how strange the sound of all this.


___*___*___*

in seven days i'll sit around a table with nine people. i have to come off the pills. i need to be more me. the robot has to be put back in the closet.

what then?

who knows.

BIG leagues.
wants.

a future i had not thought possible.
possibly earned, more like: willed to life.


___*___*___*

or i could forget the whole thing and watch another 2 episodes of friday night lights.