I love you. But I don’t think I can survive here much longer.
Ice cream shops and psychics have a lot in common. They’re both there to help us pass time on earth.
Time passes and I’m beginning to question my time here on earth. Somewhere between a rocky road and a butter brickle, I’m stuck. Somewhere between two Geminis, that makes me one in five.
The irony of it all, if you knew me well, you’d say I’m a clever writer.
And those that venture in my world have no clue, a mystery flavor.
I’m living the dream. Life has begun on the road…
Key West is the second most haunted city in the United States. Last night I heard an infamous tale about a highly intelligent man from Germany who escaped a job offer from the nazis. He settled in the keys and set up shop as an X-ray doctor.
He fell in love with a Cuban patient who was diagnosed with tuberculosis, a death sentence at the time. This patient was 36 years younger than him. When she passed he put a phone in her coffin and would call her every night until she agreed to live with him.
He stuffed her body and kept her spirit alive in his home…until he was caught. He fought hard to keep her body with him. When he passed his body was found right on top of her corpse.
They say that you can see the old man and his Cuban beauty walking along by the bay in the wee hours of the night. A true love story.
I questioned what could’ve been worse, ghosts of the pasts or ghosts of my past? I still fall victim to my own flashbacks… except this time, this new year, I’ve pledged to accept them as thoughts.
They say… or so I’ve heard… the same energy you keep on earth stays with you in the after life. That sort of talk makes one want to prepare…
That sort of talk reminds one that we are only humans with a couple of grand resources and only a few clues….
I’ve done this once too many times. Go through clothes that hold the most memories and give them away. This misfit shirt I used to wear to all of the bars on Capitol Hill. Black ripped jeans that I’d pair with everything. Misses doesn’t-take-life-too-serious, is finally getting serious. I wish I didn’t hurt the people that were there — and I wish I didn’t run into the people that hurt me — but I guess that’s how I learned.
That’s how I earned a living. Those were the days and odd hours of the nights.
I’ll always miss him. In fact, I may return.. or maybe…I’ll keep riding the train until I hit every spot.
Goodbye old bedroom door, you used to open in the middle of the night by the force of nature.
Good bye old rug, you constantly reminded someone about how young I am. How young I was…
Goodbye old painting. You will always hold a place in my heart — a love that was like gold — one that I couldn’t buy.
Goodbye old bath tub, you let me soak in you, smoke in you and write in you.
They say letting go of old things before a new year will give you a good push of luck for the next.
My memories have found new homes in cardboard boxes…
that the ones that hold no mass are the hardest to pack up and leave behind.
I love you MK
I’m beginning to wonder if any of the people around me take the dreams they have seriously?
Some of mine are so detailed and well constructed that I remember them for years.
When I was younger I always had dreams of escaping into unknown lands. Beautifully enchanted and empty.
When I was 8 years old, I had this dream that was located in the woods. I rolled down a hill by stumbling. Upon my accidental arrival to the bottom, I found a beautiful land of water with white sand. I’d fantasize about this place until I saw it in real life.
Shelter Island, New York August 2017
I was hiking with my partner and suddenly I began to have symptoms of deja vu. How did I know this place so well? It was my first time physically being there. I announced my thoughts to him. He didn’t react much, in fact, knowing him the way I do now, he probably put it in his “she’s nuts” category.
I do believe dreams play an important role in our daily lives. There are psychotherapists that encourage their clients to write down their dreams first thing in the morning. When it’s time for their therapy session, both the therapist and the patient begin to transcribe its meaning.
Eventually, after many therapy sessions the client becomes connected with a level of awareness that heals them. Our dreams play a significant role in interpreting our emotions and current states.
More recently, my dreams have become poetic puzzles. I had one two weeks ago where the crowd asked my partner and I to get molds of our bodies together. I wanted to break out of mine. A few days after that dream, I began to attempt to destroy that relationship. Interestingly enough, the molds represented everyone else’s idea of perfect. However, the true nature of our relationship (at the time) was far from it.
I’m sure I haven’t discovered anything new. I may have more time than the average person to dive deep into these subjects.
My mother used to tell me: “don’t tell people about your dreams, especially the bad ones.”
She feared that if I spoke of them, they’d happen. Maybe there is truth to that. Instead, I’d like to think that when we discuss our dreams to our lovers, friends and family we can gain insight into what happens in their subconscious.
If my mother was reading this, she’d definitely tell me to stop writing publicly about my dreams. It’s none of their business. That’s what she’d say. Haha.
I haven’t been updating much — and when I do it’s something melancholic. Truth be told, I’m okay. I’ve had two readers reach out to me and say they’ve missed my presence on this blog.
The thing is, I’ve dedicated most of my time to writing in my journals. One journal is dedicated to morning pages and the other one is for this screenplay. The third one is for notes and poems. I’m learning that practice is where it starts.
I always looked at the people around me and thought they were so amazing for picking up a craft or starting a business. I never thought I could do it. And I’m sort of doing it. It feels so new to me. For a long time I lived as if I was in the shadows of everyone else’s dreams.
Slowly but surely the walls around me are breaking down. The very ones that blocked my views. Things seem clearer. All the while, I’m having difficulty with maintaining my mood. A simple fix is a 4-6 hour psychiatric assessment and a golden pill that makes me “normal” like everyone else.
I’m afraid to try it but I’ve done more terrible things in life than try something that might help.
When I think things through, I realize that I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships. All my life I found humans with internal complexities so beautiful until I became one. My mind has been a living hell — justified by the moments of bliss.
It’s another phase in a life that’s not guaranteed. I’m jumping out of an airplane tomorrow. Hopefully the wind can knock some sense into me before I get involved with modern medicine.