May 30, 2009

My Own World War

I thought it was Saturday...worked all day priming new-built shutters...boss gone to Florida...said he was leaving Saturday I assumed it was Saturday...any day of the week is the same to me...Sunday Monday what's the difference?...each day the same...wake in van bathed in sweat...can't leave windows open for air too many bad guys...open window open invitation...get up piss in a jug...take medicine...pull on pants and shirt after wiping body with wet cloth...go in supermarket for one cherry orchard yogurt...find coffee afterward...maybe check mail at General Delivery...they won't let me have a Post Office box no permanent address...if I had a damned permanent address why would I need a damned Post Office box...this rule apparently only in New Orleans they never heard of it at the Post Office in Slidell...no mail anyway...find a coffee shop...which one?...depends on how much money I have...get coffee plug in access the internet...open Word...check the usual sites the usual suspects...read the news...same old shit...here comes the Pakistan War I been ranting about for a year...have fun!...you're going to lose...I'm going to Thailand after October...just a little revolution there...the military will win...I'll watch it on television or from a balcony...maybe catch up on my reading and have a better sex life...don't care if I ever return to US...so tired of this place...been all over...every place basically the same to me now...I know it's me not the place...I'm basically the same everywhere in America...I can't change America and changing myself is even harder...but I can leave it...love it or leave it...I don't love it so I'm leaving it...Jesus Christ the two at the next table are about to make love...he is stroking her she is in ecstasy...whew New Orleans...everybody getting some except me apparently...drives me nuts sometimes.

I don't know what's the matter with me...I once thought I did...didn't...this that the other thing...first shrink at 12 when incredible nightmares alarmed my parents...I woke the whole neighborhood waking up screaming for a half-hour no one could console me...I think I told this story before.

Psychiartrists psychologists doctors social workers courts jails they all had a shot or two at me...I never told the shrinks anything they didn't think they already knew...they never told me anything...see a shrink and get drugged...my shrink at the VA work for the government for God's sake...you think I'll tell him about this blog?...there goes another report off to whoever gets reports...sooner or later it will bounce back off my head like a tether ball...who says I don't trust anybody because I'm afraid of them?...oh I remember who said that...I won't name names.

This one psychologist in California gave me an all-day battery of tests...I took them all as honest as can be...exhaustive tests...I don't know what he learned...wouldn't tell me...by all means don't share your diagnosis with the patient it might hurt him...son of a bitch it might help him too...take a chance...I asked him how I did he said "You did excellent!"...I still don't know what that means...so what is my IQ?...what did this test mean what did that one mean?...I'll never know...they won't show me...now they say psychiartry is catching onto the idea that some patients can know their diagnosis and help with their own treatment...NO SHIT.

Finally I realized the first one I saw in NJ years before was right...I had an alcohol problem...this month it's three years since I had or wanted a drink...I write in a bar nearly every night...in a bar now...and people are drunk and snorting coke in the bathroom and I have absolutely no interest no craving...but stopping drinking didn't heal me...For awhile I felt close to God but not anymore...I believe God's keeping me alive for a purpose but I can't figure what it is...this rambling writing because it's about all I do...all I care about anymore...I'm trying to find out what it is with my deft fingertips...But I don't feel God...I trust what else can I do but trust but don't feel God...Carl Sagan would say I'm superstitious...he'd have a point...I'm still pretty much of a wreck...look at me...broke most of the time alone all of the time..."I'm locked in tight I'm out of range"...I meet people all the time too...we look at each other and I think this guy is probably okay but I don't want to know him...forget meeting women...they look right through me...pretty much always did so it's nothing new...they always looked past me and thought this guy doesn't have anything and probably never will...their basic interests are security security and security...I know...I probed their minds saw their looks heard their remarks...last chicken in the pecking order...male reject...you too babe...I reject you back...you don't see me I see you all too well...Henry Miller was right.

Anyway I thought it was Saturday that's how important the days of the week are to me...went looking for this party I was actually invited to couldn't find it...up and down the block...text messages...it's here it's there...round and round the block...finally a text saying the party is tomorrow...I send text message saying yr text message said Saturday...she comes back with "It's Friday love"...who knew?...ha, ha!...see I did it again...trying not to look like a doddering old fool who can't find an address I come off as a doddering old fool who doesn't even know what day of the week it is.

The humiliations never ending...man I could write an encylopedia of the ones I've endured...The Encyclopedia of Ordinary & Extraordinary Humiliations...maybe God sent me here to bring me down a peg or two...mission accomplished no doubt...I know where I am in the pecking order...know what I'm worth to most people...but then there is one who seems different...Once again I realize I'm full of it...it's me...it's just me...the rest of these people seem to be okay...it's me...they make friends trust make love share live together go to parties have fun make mistakes forgive each other and apparently live normal productive lives in apartments and houses...keeping jobs that pay the rent...it's only me...I'm the one who apparently cannot do these things...I am not sure why anymore...everything I say sounds false to me...everything I write seems mediocre and banal...the only thing I can trust myself to do is fuck it up...I have a record of failure unmatched in all of America apparently...and all I want is a dark corner to sit in...I'm in a dark corner now in fact...people walk by all the time enroute to the bathrooms and don't even see me seeing them not seeing me...I'm tired of talking tired of trying to explain...why should I how could I and what difference would it make anyway...because I'm doing it I think I'm supposed to be writing but I don't know what for...a documented living autopsy I suppose.

I know it's a "pity fest" right?...the penultimate selfishness...get out more do things meet people take yoga serve the poorest...I know the frigging prescription...I just don't want to try filling it...besides my van is breaking down got to fix it...it's vast and empty in here anyway...I don't think anything can fill it...it's full of emptiness already...what I think now...remembering my grandmother's melancholia...I think I inherited it my melancholy baby...I was born three months before the big war babe...born into war and one war after another all my life right up to now...I don't know why I noticed while so many didn't...just out making a living but I did...noticed...watched...listened...read...my gaze fixed...can't look away...been in a war my whole life...my own wretched world war...my very own world war one two three and four...that's what it feels like...I know you can't see it...probably nonsense to you...you don't know what's wrong with me either...why don't I just lighten up try to have fun...see what I mean...I never had much fun...something held me back...my gaze elsewhere...always elsewhere...some place I never been...I don't know what these people are so happy about...I just don't see it don't feel it...me and Fabrizio...we don't know what it is to love.

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