Made these CDs in Phoenix, when my comp ran out of space. CD 14 includes some of the A's, such as: Against Me, All American Rejects, Annie Lennox, Arcade Fire, Arctic Monkeys, and Audioslave... well rounded if you ask me! Which you didn't, but I'm a New Englander and I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks!
Today wasn't much better than yesterday, heard from Sean which was cool, not 20 minutes ago, he said he's been replying to some emails, I was first in line, I guess Ian is second, and his mother is 3rd... hahaha the boy's got his priorities in order, though I'm amazed I came before Ian - assuming it's the Ian I'm thinking of, he's probably writing that out now. Silly bastard bought a house I'd have bought - which from the scattered battered motorcycle parts down here doesn't say much to his common sense. He wrote out a detailed description and I'll try to sketch something up for him when I find a pen. He's one of those peeps who can't draw for anything - but I love him anyway.
So today, what did I do today? Well I was in bed until I don't know what time - not out of lazyness, but I just couldn't get up. ARGGGG!!!! I want to scream but I can't, can't scream without waking people up, as is I only want to scream at night - bad combination.
I'm slowly coming to terms with the idea that I could be on disability for the rest of my life, it's a rude fucking awakening, as my more often than not uses of "colorful metaphors" shows. My typewriter sits with a new ribbon somewhat untouched but always on - I use one of those newfangled ones that you plug in, terrible I know, but it has a correction key which lets me knock out mistakes - very useful as my hands have grown more accustomed to a laptop pad than the keys on the typewriter - which is likewise a horrible thing.
It gives credit though that I am using old school printer paper that is linked together so there is the 1" stack on the floor, and then it rises up into the typewriter and then out the top making a neat pile of typed pages. Not working on the HBH movie at the moment, just writing for the sake of writing - which means no one will ever read it. There is also the book, the life and times of Jamie Forts, which is a downer all by itself, and finishing it is tricky as Jamie is still alive, 25 in fact, and doesn't know what the fuck he's doing with his future. I used to be Jamie, or Jamie used to be me, that was my "stage name" back when I was in the overly seedy business that accounts for much of why I am so fucked up. Younger, so much younger, but so far from being an innocent that it's astonishing. I haven't been an innocent in nearly 15 years, which is scary, because I know peeps who are 15 now.
But its a story I have to write, I have to bring some meaning to all that has happened, even if I write it in such a way where no one knows who I am. Who would know? The perverts who recognize the name? The freaks who fucked up my life? Most of my friends from that time are in the ground - we're dropping like flies.
ENOUGH! That's depressing and not worth these pages on which I write - not that these are really pages. I hate these blogs as much as I hate digital photography, and cell phones. And yet I rely on them all the same! It's scary. I have film cameras made by hand 50+/- years ago that take such crisp and incredible photographs. I have telephones that are really telephones, rotaries down here, and I have my moleskins that you can put the pen and the ink to the page, maybe I'll recount my love affair with the fountain pen? There are three of them in dad's desktop drawer....
... that's another thing... when will it cease to be dad's desk? When will it stop being Dad's Triumph? When will these things become mine? How many years? HOW MANY YEARS? And so I write now, I write so fast that I cannot but think what I am writing, I write as though I am screaming at you from across the counter top, because this my friend, this is pure - this is the purest form of the word, this is the uncensored venting rambling of someone who has so much to vent - so much to ramble, and yet who is there to listen? Who will listen? Who cares enough to read it all? You? Who are you? Sean probably, the only one who will always give me an ear. Why? Is it loyalty? Is it friendship? Is it because I saved your life? Me modest? What? I don't know, I DONT KNOW!
I'm sorry... I'm angry, I'm so angry. To get up and run circles, that would be a feat upon the feet. That would be the greatest thing. But can I get up? No. I cannot.
I saw Brent tonight, I went with Ducci down to Boylston to see Brent. He leaves tomorrow for Texas. Leaves. He'll be gone, Brent will be gone. Off to Texas to run a helicopter school. Ducci will be gone too, gone in two weeks, off to Korea to build two nuclear powerplants. What stuff is this? They are all going away! I left, I know, I left. But that was different - selfish of me to say so... The trio is to be split. Brent and Ducci gone, and me stuck here in Worcester, but I love Worcester. I'll still have Deedy. I'll have Paul and Chris for the summer, depending on where they end up, where will they end up after this? After WPI? Kyle will be gone, gone off to UCLA for a graduates degree, or a doctrate, not sure which. A rocket scientist that boy. And who am I left with? Well Deedy is a best friend.
Liam will be gone, I could cry, not that I see him all that often. Less now that I am uninvolved with the spring show. He's only going to UNH and I think I might visit him if he'll stomach me. Visit him in Peachy Keene as dad called it, he also called it Never Never Land. *laughs*
Brother Plunket has gone. Died two days ago. I am quite sad. The wake/mass/funeral are all in the same place on Wed. That I will go to if it kills me. I have to go. I have no choice. I loved and respected that man as much as just about anyone who ever lived. He was 81, so I guess, well where's the surprise? Finally someone to die when they were supposed to. Not like Dad, not like Sam, not like any of the others I have known.
How many funerals have I been to of guys younger than 20? But those are Jamie's horrors. So if those are his horrors why do they plague me still?
Now we have Audioslave, "Be Yourself" such a perfect song, maybe one of the most perfect songs.
I'm so far gone. I'm typing slower now. Not the mad rampage I was going after before. I'm tired, and I'm in pain. My knees, oh my god, my knees. See I can scream here. In person I try to complain only about the things that don't effect me.
...Separate or united, Empty or insane... ...even when your paid enough, been put upon, or been held up, every single memory of, the good or bad, faces of love, don't loose any sleep tonight - i'm sure everything will end up alright, you may really loose, but to be yourself is all that you can do, to be yourself is all that you can do....
Not sure if I have the words right, but most of them I think... the man doesn't always articulate, he's kind of like natalie merchent who mumbles her way through her live songs - but in an oh so beautiful voice.
Oh Sean. When will you abandon me? Is this self pity? But you know the logic behind it, you know the reasons. You know the pain, as well as perhaps anyone still alive. You had just a small taste of it. I'm sorry to bring that back to you... I'm just trying to get past it.
The Violin! I'm going to learn at last. Yes yes I know what you say, but jack, the guitar, the harmonica, the banjo! And yes that's all true, but the Violin was a true passion at one time. You never knew me when I was 10. I was such a different human being when I was an innocent, so much hope, so little worry. I can't change the past. But maybe I can bring back some of those passions? Acting is beyond me now, I can't be on stage, never again, we know that. Writing though a passion, besides maybe Bike Mags is unlikely to pan out, hahahahaha I remember when I was like 9 I sat down to right a sequal to Winnie the Pooh. HAHAHAHAHA what grand memories, I think I wrote 10 pages in this giant print that you can expect of a 9 year old. But the Violin, my love for music has if anything GROWN, and I have an appreciation for more and more, on top of the classical, we can now throw in Irish Folk music, as well as others... No no, I can make something of this, and god knows I might have the time now.
Ok, this has gone on long enough. I could write all night, but what is writing without structure, it is just rambling... all that I have left are subtle and not so subtle musings for example knowing Sean, and I sort of know this boy Ian he's been writing. I've met them both, but they've not.. Sean is at least 18 now, though I have known him since he was 13. Ian, I have no idea how old he is, but I talked to his older brother for a couple of years at least, he's a kid - maybe a gifted kid, but he's a young man, and we must emphasize the young, but not bad looking, not at all bad looking, quite cute. But Sean and I have always had the same tastes I guess, the difference of course is I'm an old man, and Sean is not.
Humbug. Before I go, I made this today, I can't get the Linhof to work, I don't know how to load it, this was my explanation of my issues for the gay teen forum... which I have been a member of for like 5+ years now:
