I have been thinking about that notion as well. What the hell am I going to do about it? Step one; Wake the fuck up. Step two; quit thinking and act. Act on those thoughts and quit being a blithering idiot. What the hell has came over me. Oh, wait a minute, maybe it is the 5th of tequila I am in taking on a more than normal occasion.
As I take in this grand Agave concoction and sit back; slowly taking in the handicapping, mind melting, laziness, I start to tilt into the forms that dead braincells elude. It is only after I have a lost a few though, that I start to realize where I am heading. NO WHERE! "Where you going? No where."
And that is, at each, where I begin another course. Another point in my travel that I am going to stop. Something Great is going to come out of it I know. Something very swell really. I know it, I can feel it in my soul. That thing I tend to use when I drown my self in the misery of the that fact. I feel I have to stare addiction in the face and rip it off every time I see it. Watching the sockets of truth bleed out of the muscles that held together its lying face, breathing on me and staring back at me with its ghoulish teeth molding into its gums, coagulation dripping into your inhale, as its microorganisms infects your FUCKING MOTIVATION to be your self. The dark black holes of deception in a sweet, sweet flavor.
Addiction to me a is a shape sifting entity. something that passes by us everyday in the form of our gluttony. sometimes passed down from generation to generation. One day being tramped on and then next obsessed on. A love so good and pungent of hate all in the same, the emotions that you fill into it. Making it stronger. At first feeling, a hug, and then an embrace of hope, then, only then, to grab one last time and crush you till all that is left in you is IT.
What I am trying to say is that I am done drinking. One step at a time here though. The smoking comes next. I don't want to have a nice nervous breakdown. Shit, I am only human after all.I came to the conclusion lately as if it were all a bad dream. Flashes of pasts hit me like a, well, a guilt trip...
1994.late. Stepfather 1 dies of liver disease. Cirrhosis; drank himself to death and then with that at 34is he leaves a 5ish year old daughter to be with out a dad. I am sure he didn't plan on that, but he sure didn't help it. Aloofness, feelings of the unknown, and reflections of guilt into the only other one she can put it into. She is happy with the hate she has in her heart and does whatever she can to destroy, or at least make them feel pain like hers. Her mother, who she blames everyday, just doesn't understand. All from a little beverage, sometimes hoppy, crisp and calming, melting almost. Even after you're gone, what you have done will still affect the people closest to you. Especially when you still do not have the wisdom to decipher between things you can and cannot control, and the wisdom to deal with it correctly either way.
2001. middle of. Stepfather 2 dies of aneurysm. He had had many of these. Started as a fit of coughs and then would usually come to a delirious state. I remember one time, him and all his drug induced glory, his tea was the crack cocaine, he was eating watching TV. I could see him eating like I had a zoom lens in my retina; the chomping and gristle ripping from the chicken bone, the smacking of his gums and lips, he didn't really have any teeth probably put them in a pipe( he is my ripped face addiction man I think). Then came the coughing. Then I can remember his memories; as he wanted to go to his dads(who had been dead of salmonella for quite some time), he thought he was late and was going to be in trouble. As he was trying to leave he spoke of the many bodies lying all around on the floor. Walking out, he seemed to be stepping over all the bodies he said were there. He was a Veteran of the Vietnam war.
Classic. typical flash back status. From child molestation and the fields of the Cong to homeward bound with a crack pipe hanging from his lips. Can I please have a trailer to go with my trash. What had happen was through all his years abusing alcohol and crack the little hairs in his lungs got burnt out and in a cause and effect he slowly drowned to death, with those coughing attacks they would come so hard he would have little aneurysms. The day he died he had followed my mother, whom i didn't talk to at the time because she married this douche BAG, he had an attack and a major aneurysm. They finally got him onto the ambulance where he passed out. When he woke up he didn't know where he was and attacked the EMTs in the ambulance. Crack attack- 3; EMTs 0. One had a broken jaw, another a broken Femur... yes femur... and the last one, well he was just fucking bloody. Now going back in time, about a paragraph ago. What you do while you are alive still affects the people closest to you after you are gone. Little girl +Evil step dads death = Super life doubts. Yes 6 years later the only other man she knew died of drug induced retardation.Lets say 2004is. Grandfather, though not my real one the one I really knew. Dies of cirrhosis induced bone cancer after a bout with lung and throat cancer from smoking; DOUBLE SHAZAM. How do you like those apples people. He got fucked by that one TWICE. I took care of him ladies and gents and was A OK. I wouldn't of had it any other way. He was a very misunderstood man. BUT, even though disease took him from all of his addictions he still lived a happy life. Hey whatever works we all got to die from something. Not that I am saying that it was OK for him but not the others, but at least he didn't get melted into a lazy piece of shit that never accomplished a thing. It was hard, and he is missed. But even though he lays in his grave rotting more so in his Cancer glory. What he did while he was alive affected my grandmother and she is taken care of through all he did. PAYED she is. But, I am sure she would rather have him around more. Shit take what you can get though. WORD.
2001ish. Grandfather (mothers side) dies of Emphysema from years of smoking the stogies. Ya know after being on a O2 machine for his last 10 years. I'd been ready. This mother fucker was hard core; would smoke while hooked to the tank. BALLZ OH STEEL. Get up on his O2, and head to the bar for 30 minutes and come home about to pass out. He was always nice to me. I knew him no other way.
I head stories from the FAM but hey, I call it as I see it, not by what other people tell me how they seen it. Unless i was there when they seen it. How did that affect anyone.. hell I don't know, but I am sure that it did in some way or another. But I wasn't there. And/or Affected.(Enter DAD here...)
So in this understanding I talked to myself. I said you know what. How can I judge a damn soul or complain about any person ever doing anything if I am sitting her spraying senseless chatter through an alcoholic, smoking ex coke head mouth of mine? huh? But, I then realized there is nothing I can say or do for any one but myself, let alone judge, judgement is not mine, not even on myself!. What gives me the right to hurt myself and bitch about it. Nobody fucking cares. Learn through my actions not my senseless chatter. Fucking talk about it buddy, but 9 times outta 10 all it is is talk. I needed to make that difference through my actions; through more than just words. Not vocabularic nonsense.
You know why no one ever listens? Because no one ever does anything they say they are going to do. People listen to actions. When other people are talking about what some one else did. Cause honey, if your doing something and doing it right, you probably have no time to talk about it. Follow me? Watch what I do and I bet you might be able to do better. What is it that you mean Gabby? Just watch and learn.. How's that for a cliche. Actions will always speak louder that words. Hey actions save peoples life. It's that senseless chatter that comes in tune with your attention that distracts you from that train about to hit you while looking around like a dumb ass, but in my religion it was the Substances that have been the trains and goddamn it i am tired of getting run over by my own Accord.
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