June 3rd, 2017 – Musical Truths

I’m not afraid
Of anything in this world
There’s nothing you can throw at me
That I haven’t already heard

I’m just trying to find
A decent melody
A song that I can sing
In my own company

I never thought you were a fool
But darling look at you
You gotta stand up straight
Carry your own weight
These tears are going nowhere baby

You’ve got to get yourself together
You’ve got stuck in a moment
And now you can’t get out of it

Don’t say that later will be better
Now you’re stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it

I will not forsake
The colors that you bring
The nights you filled with fireworks
They left you with nothing

I am still enchanted
By the light you brought to me
I listen through your ears
Through your eyes I can see

And you are such a fool
To worry like you do
I know it’s tough
And you can never get enough
Of what you don’t really need now
My, oh my

You’ve got to get yourself together
You’ve got stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it

Oh love, look at you now
You’ve got yourself stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it

I was unconscious, half asleep
The water is warm ’til you discover how deep

I wasn’t jumping, for me it was a fall
It’s a long way down to nothing at all

You’ve got to get yourself together
You’ve got stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it

Don’t say that later will be better
Now you’re stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it

And if the night runs over
And if the day won’t last
And if our way should falter
Along the stony pass

And if the night runs over
And if the day won’t last
And if your way should falter
Along this stony pass

It’s just a moment
This time will pass

Wednesday, August 31st, 1:30 p.m.

I found myself growing more and more used to the routine, and even finding my personality with no part of it probably harder to squelch for long than my natural competitiveness. All of which meant that eventually, I was going to need the daily time of recreational therapy to shift away from coloring and crafts, into the realm of the stock of board games that resided in the room.

This day seemed like as good as any for taking that plunge, and my timing could not have worked out better when our hospital staff member actually suggested that we try a game of Scattergories together. I am a fan of the game, but was a bit perplexed by a certain aspect of it. As I would later learn, these “therapy” hours were being billed out to my patient account at a clip of $125 per day. Call me crazy (which my location at the time might well have suggested I was…am), but it would seem like for that price we would have someone guiding us through the playing of the game who actually was familiar with the rules of the game.

That was when the “true” me sprung forth. I just can’t…or choose not to…or don’t know how to…or however the fuck you want to interpret it…I just don’t let it go when someone thinks they know how to play a game, but when compared to the instructions or formal rules of the game make it clear that they do not. This would prove to be no exception. So I did what any reasonable person who has ditched his job and family, jumped on a train, fled the state, been placed in protective custody and had his shoelaces removed less he off himself would do…I took over. And for better or for worse, she let me. She tried to guide us, but I think she grew weary of my correcting her (not the first one to experience that phenomenon in an encounter with me). Eventually she, or at least the other clients (because crazy people prefer to listen to another crazy person rather than the sane ones…I know, crazy…huh?) looked to me for game guidance. And I? Hell yeah. More than happy to provide it.

This all fit into what I would come to consider the abnormal normal. The abnormal normal was when I was doing something completely normal, such as playing a game of Scattergories with a group of adults, in a completely abnormal environment, such as a psych ward with the group of adults being people I really don’t know from Adam.

Other examples would come to include brushing my teeth (normal) with a prison toothbrush at a sink that required constant pumping to continue the water flow (abnormal). Placing an order for my dinner (normal) an entire day before with fairly decent certainty that it might not arrive as what I ordered (abnormal). Checking my email (normal) while someone paces behind me swearing loudly at another individual who does not visibly exist (abnormal). Or putting on my socks (normal) and them having those little no-slip rubber stripes on them and the face of a small teddy bear (abnormal…at least, for my wardrobe).

I can’t remember who won the two games we played that day, which means it is highly likely that neither of the winners was me. That’s just how I roll. But I do remember who knew the “right” way to play the game, and for that afternoon at least…that felt normal.

May 27th, 2017 – Musical Truths

Dear God, hope you got the letter, and…
I pray you can make it better down here.
I don’t mean a big reduction in the price of beer
but all the people that you made in your image, see
them starving on their feet ’cause they don’t get
enough to eat from God, I can’t believe in you

Dear God, sorry to disturb you, but… I feel that I should be heard
loud and clear. We all need a big reduction in amount of tears
and all the people that you made in your image, see them fighting
in the street ’cause they can’t make opinions meet about God,
I can’t believe in you

Did you make disease, and the diamond blue? Did you make
mankind after we made you? And the devil too!

Dear God, don’t know if you noticed, but… your name is on
a lot of quotes in this book, and us crazy humans wrote it, you
should take a look, and all the people that you made in your
image still believing that junk is true. Well I know it ain’t, and
so do you, dear God, I can’t believe in I don’t believe in

I won’t believe in heaven and hell. No saints, no sinners, no
devil as well. No pearly gates, no thorny crown. You’re always
letting us humans down. The wars you bring, the babes you
drown. Those lost at sea and never found, and it’s the same the
whole world ’round. The hurt I see helps to compound that
Father, Son and Holy Ghost is just somebody’s unholy hoax,
and if you’re up there you’d perceive that my heart’s here upon
my sleeve. If there’s one thing I don’t believe in

it’s you….

May 20th, 2017 – Musical Truths

The secret side of me
I never let you see
I keep it caged
But I can’t control it
So stay away from me
The beast is ugly
I feel the rage
And I just can’t hold it

It’s scratching on the walls
In the closet, in the halls
It comes awake
And I can’t control it
Hiding under the bed
In my body, in my head
Why won’t somebody come and save me from this?
Make it end!

I feel it deep within,
It’s just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I’ve become
The nightmare’s just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster

My secret side I keep
Hid under lock and key
I keep it caged
But I can’t control it
‘Cause if I let him out
He’ll tear me up
And break me down
Why won’t somebody come and save me from this?
Make it end!

I feel it deep within,
It’s just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I’ve become
The nightmare’s just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster

I feel it deep within,
It’s just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster
I, I feel like a monster

It’s hiding in the dark
Its teeth are razor sharp
There’s no escape for me
It wants my soul,
It wants my heart

No one can hear me scream
Maybe it’s just a dream
Or maybe it’s inside of me
Stop this monster!

I feel it deep within,
It’s just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I hate what I’ve become
The nightmare’s just begun
I must confess that I feel like a monster

I feel it deep within,
It’s just beneath the skin
I must confess that I feel like a monster
I’m gonna lose control
Here’s something radical
I must confess that I feel like a monster

Present Day, May 18th, 2017

I have a Moleskine journal. Moleskine because that is the only journal my oldest daughter believes to be a true, authentic journal. Like any other father, I am always striving to impress my children. I know, right?

Inside the back cover is a pocket for storing things. I really do not know what they have in mind. Locks of hair from loved ones or wanna be loved ones? Stamps for collecting? Clips from newspapers or magazines?

I have a few items in mine. Things I wrote when I didn’t have the journal along. Or things written down for me. 

Two items create a unique juxtaposition in the pouch, sitting back-to-back. The first is a letter from my wife. We did a wine box for our wedding. The idea for the  wine box is that you seal a bottle of wine with love letters to each other in a decorative box to be opened on your first anniversary. You place it in a visible place. If, god forbid, your marriage is on the brink in less than a year, you both agree to open the box and read the letters. I am not sure what happens with the wine.

We didn’t. Make it a year that is. Oh, we are still together, but it was close and the box was opened. The letters were read, and I keep the one she wrote to me in my journal. I don’t remember what happened to the wine.

The letter is right next to a much shorter note. Torn off a sheet of paper. By my therapist. It is the number for a suicide textline. In case of an emergancy. 

So I don’t know what Moleskine intended, but it is kind of my survival pouch. A love letter from my wife, a suicide textline’s number, and another item or two. Things to review if I am on the brink. And have my journal handy. And am willing to seek inspiration.

I reviewed the contents tonight. Mainly just to remind myself of what is in there. It was a rough day, but I am not at “that” point. Just curious. So I scanned the contents, reordered them all, and tucked them safely away again. 

I was reminded that I have not been mindmapping enough lately. Have not been “journaling” enough. Have not put enough ‘pen to paper’ so that I can go back and see what I was thinking. See what conclusions I was drawing. See where I was and how it compares to where I am.

I think my daughter is right. I think Moleskine does make a better journal. However, sitting unused on a shelf…they are all the same.