Writings...................book

part four

sitting in a youth thing in new orleans. i met up with these slackers. first in atlanta. then at the greyhound terminal in new orleans. finally ran into them on the wharf. following them around. learning the ropes. the real road is much different than visiting friends. most of them are from boston. joey connecticut. chestnuts been on the road since fifteen. seventeen now. hes sort of the leader to us rookies. irk. joker. they do their own thing. been in new orleans twelve hours now.

[the last paragraph was wrong.]

they call it the drop-out centre. those who go here. they provide a place to wash. shower. people do laundry. drink tea. coffee. sit around on old couches chatting. sewing. a doctor is provided twice a week. today. this week. something of a special week. everyone returns. mardi gras. gossip about him in ohio. she in dallas. people are returning for the mardi gras. and the police crackdown begins. more people arrive at the centre. shower. hang out. away from the police. away from the world.

# # #

fourth night in new orleans. if you count the greyhound station the first night. i dont. lets see. not much time to reflect. always busy doing stuff. enjoying life. i think. not much time to think about it. think now.

i bought a new pad today. fourteen by seventeen. its cool. i drew one picture in it. around noon. then someone else borrowed the pad to draw on. never got a second one done.

two a day and by monday ill have four and can go to jackson square and start selling. right now. fifty dollars. each. tomorrow. i ask around. proper pricing. then i can draw more as i sit and try to sell. hopefully it works. well see.

# # #

everyone leaves town now. mardi gras is over. returning to normal. prices. people. life. sometime. maybe tomorrow. maybe later. arkansas. mining for crystals with magic. then. austin. anarchists convention. find a ride to san francisco. well see.

# # #

i met a man who plays the bongos. he was in a band in the seventies. maybe eighties. they told him he was too old for them. he is going to form his own band now. he plays on the streets to get the money to buy all the equipment. so he has his own drums. and not someone elses. hes doing it right this time.

# # #

dan. an interesting. he speaks several languages. a few close friends. studies eastern religions. film producer. one of these days. works in a restaurant. now.

agatha and dan are perfect roommates. (no longer...)

# # #

jacking in. looking for ways onto the network once i leave university. steve suggested telenet. talking to ben. setting up new accounts. i talked to this guy in brazil the other day.

# # #

the movie slacker is pretty accurate. they missed all the poor stuff though. sleeping in stinking smelling abandoned condemned buildings. not even fit to call a squat. begging. spanging. panhandling of the tourists. others. going to the bakery and getting free bread. free food places. dumpster diving. pizza hut. they missed the whole slack part of slackers. but otherwise. waking up. walking around. hanging. exactly what ive been doing.

# # #

talking to people. new orleans. after five. they recreate bourbon street in cyberspace. you have a description. and money. and people walk up and down the street. stopping and waving and talking to each other. like reality. you can walk away from someone. hit someone. touch someone. you can even have sex with someone. but you wont feel anything. youll just see the words.

# # #

last night shannon needed space. tom was smothering her. shannons no longer sure toms the one for her. the engagement is off.

tom was crying. and shannon was crying. and they were asking shannon what was wrong. but all i could do was hold tom and tell him to cry some more. i gave him my hand and told him to squeeze it hard. i knew what he was feeling and no amount of words could have healed him.

a young boy. so naive. so innocent. still living in his fantasy world. now shattered. the pain this must cause. the pain it did. it does with everyone. i wish he could still live there in that land beyond reality. everyones a prince. and everyone is happy. with tom shannon has lost the true love she dreamt of as a child. and yesterday tom lost the true love he dreamt of in shannon. how i would wish that we could all stay so innocent. so ignorant of the world and all its disappointments. ignorance is truly bliss.

# # #

new years eve. we went to a party. people. people none of us knew. met a guy. ed. so much like roger. his face. his hair. (and i couldnt bare to look in his eyes). a longing. a remembrance. and how i could never touch. i swore i was going to kiss him by the end of the evening. i swore id fall in love with him. like i did with roger.

i didnt. my soul was saved from the torment of a love i could never fulfill. yet i longed to touch him. to hold him. but the longing was only superficially for ed. because he looked like roger. and so i tried to stay away from him while desperately wanting to be next to him. and in the end i wasnt entranced. because he wasnt roger. no matter how closely he looked like him.

later on we left the party. ben was drunk. we left him there. we were going. and so we celebrated new years eve in a dunkin donuts.

# # #

i am scared of my past. scared of what i might find if i return there. afraid of dealing with people i have not dealt with for some time. some who i intended to cut off forever. now it looks like i will be returning sooner than i intended. and ill have to deal with my parents. my employers. my friends. so many people who are so distant from me here. its scarcely been two months and yet in that time ive changed so much. become so much i never was. discovered so much about life. about myself. will my friends be able to deal with what ive become. will i be able to deal with them. or even the society ill be reintegrated into. i sit now so distanced from middle class suburbia. sickened even. how can i put out of my mind what ive seen. what ive felt. i cant. its changed me. i am no longer middle class. my brothers are on the street and i can never deny that. i must find a new way to live within a class i despise. with people of that class who were my friends. who are my friends. i am scared we will no longer know each other. we will no longer have common ground. i am scared.

# # #

she asks. how did you do it. how did you find the courage to just pick up and leave. sell everything you own and live off nothing. how did you do it. why. why did you do that. why did you just go. and i realise these are some of the most important questions asked. when all is said and done theyll know what i did. but not how. or why. now theyll know. now theyll know.

a city. my past. college. i went to a science school. technical. discovering. how i didnt want to be there. my father had such dreams of me there. but it wasnt his to dream. and then it came. how i didnt care. when i finally was paying it all for myself. i stood. i stared. i looked. and i saw i wasnt happy. i saw it was useless. i saw i would never use what those four years would accomplish. art was my passion. in the way. in. not. science too. but not. there not in the way. it was.

so i committed myself to art. determined. and when they wouldnt let me major. i decided i had to leave. the two or three weeks after this. how agonizing. not knowing where i was going. not knowing. anything. no direction. no future. i was scared. then in a search a friend suggested san francisco. to do my art. to live. and i accepted. and if i was going i might as well see things along the way. and it was.

i needed to. i needed to grow. college had taught me all it could this time around. all the rest were lessons to be read. anytime. anywhere. i had wanted to become friendlier. i had wanted to become strong. so i forced myself into a situation where meeting people. being strong. was essential to life. new orleans. id know no one. not a place to sleep. not a soul to help. i needed to make my own friends there. and in ways i did. it worked. but in ways it failed. i burned out. and it will take me some time to acquire a taste of talking to strangers. too much. too fast. too soon.

but ive changed. i needed to sell everything. give it all away. i was entering a new time in my life and i needed to shed my old shell. when i had come to college a new era began. i lived. alone. without parents. and i grew. and i changed. and i left things behind. when i left college it was more purposeful. i could see the era changing. i knew i needed to shed my old self. to become new again. so i gave it all away and left.

i am a new person now. with a new name. and a new life. the only art i own is that which ive created in the past two months. my memories lie on the road. my brothers those who travel. who i travelled with. i am poor. working class. i used to dress up in a myriad of outfits. now i wear one. all black. all the time. my life has changed. and i with it. and i can never regret that. and i can never take it back. had i not. i would not be me. and i would have mourned the opportunity spent.

i am still attached to the person i once was. i still have his feelings. his memories. but they are not as much a part of me as they once were. some. when i was sorting through my life. last october. waiting to leave. some i chose to carry over into my new life. some i chose to forget. memories fade though. i try to hold on to those of my home. my many homes. but all is lost sometimes. this city is now mine. and i belong to it. and it is all i remember. (except in those moments).

# # #

It becomes an effort to force oneself to write. To force oneself to create, to paint, to do. One must have a lot of balls to grab the bull by the horn and challenge the world. I've challenged the world, yes, but I've crept back into my shell. I must learn to challenge everything. Like the woman who sits at the table writing. You want to get to know her, but you sit here quietly alone. You devise plans to introduce yourself. You picture it in your mind. You may even get up and start walking towards her. But inevitably you keep walking past. She never meets you. You never meet her. The opportunity is gone and only regret lingers. More people regret what they haven't done in life than what they have. To try is at least something. Failure is a lesson. But if you never try, you are left with nothing. Simple nothing.

# # #

this one thing. you will remember it. wont you. very important. one of the most important. remember the yin and yang. and what they mean. and in that you will always find good. and in that you will always find evil. one is where the other is. they exist only by the contrast of the other. so no how evil it looks. deep inside. scattered throughout. the good. the only way. the contrast. all good. all evil. balanced. you never escape. oppression here. freedom there. and some good will come from the oppression. and some bad from the freedom. this is a universal truth. thousands of years old by man. billions of years old by earth. before the first thing became conscious of the circle. the yin and yang were there. and until everything stops. always. seek truth in every falsity and lies in every truth. for it is the only absolute truth. the exception to the rule that is never broken. do not seek to understand at once. understanding will come in time. but accept. and question. for there are no questions without answers. and no answers without questions.

what philosophical bullshit. unfortunately its true.

[The note in the margin here says: no answers without questions - simple acceptance will not breed understanding. only intense questioning will prove this true to the one who seeks to understand. and in looking hell see the answer given is correct. and hell understand.]

"Study nothing except in the knowledge that you already knew it. Worship nothing except in adoration of your true self. And fear nothing except in the certainty that you are your enemy's begetter and its only hope of healing."
Clive Barker, Imagica
# # #

a wall. long ago that was a good analogy. wasnt it adam. now i think that has past. more of a great window that separates me from my past. i look back. and view it through the panes. as if it was someone elses. as if it was a painting. as if it was on tv. distanced. my past recedes from me. i live now. here now. now.

# # #

the quiet parrot told me of a man. a great indian chief named thundercloud. he had come upon him by a lake in the delaware valley. and he went to the mans hut. and drank tea with him. and thundercloud asked him. have you ever talked to the animals. he paused and in his knowing way answered before giving the man a chance to answer. i think you have. i remember the first time i talked to the animals. my father had brought me to a zoo. and it was feeding time. and all the buffalo were fighting to get their place in the trough. but this big bully of a bull had pushed his way through and was having it all to himself. so i looked at him and said hey you. and he raised his head from the trough. hey you. come over here. and the bull trotted over to the fence where i was. and i looked at him and told him. youd better get back over there before they eat it all up. and he turned away and trotted back to the trough. later on he asked me. have you ever travelled among the spirits. and once again in his knowing way. he always answered his own question in this way you see. in his knowing way he answered himself. i think you have. one night in my dreams i came about a place. inside was my father and his friends sitting about smoking the peace pipe. and i entered and sat down next to him. he looked over. it is not time for you to be here. i stood up and left. several times after that i returned to this dreamplace. now i go there often. and i sit next to my father. and i smoke the peace pipe with him and his friends.

the quiet parrot told these stories as if they were his own. his english accent inspiring a magic in the words. at the end he told me where to find thundercloud. and i wrote it down. and i remember it. and someday i will meet him. and listen. to the stories. to the magic.

# # #

if you ever have only five dollars, advertise. and i once told someone that given five hundred dollars and a month to make myself famous, i could. so here i am with that five hundred dollars almost spent and my month almost over. and if no one comes tonight. tomorrow. ill be fading into obscurity.

but i didnt really start with five hundred dollars and my month was too occupied with trying to find a way to live than making myself famous. but theyre all excuses. i failed. but i learned a lot. i cant sell for one. i thought i could. if it was my own stuff. because i could advertise. but selling is different from advertising. and i cant sell.

but with any luck ill be given a second chance. tomorrow i apply for general assistance. and my father offered me a studio and a gallery in his store. i could live at my parents house and not worry about trying to live. this time i could do it right. but though im tempted. i want to do this on my own. and i dont want to live with my parents. so i wait here tonight. tomorrow. until im starving on the streets. or making a living off my art. so no one can say i gave up too soon. because living on the streets is far better than giving up something i believe in. ive lived on the streets before.

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