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Things Fall Apart
this journal entry posted on September.23.2005 by AMPro
So, once upon a time I was cruising along pretty well with the journal entries. I was going to be putting up my Opus photojounal at any moment.
Yeah. And then what happened?
Things fell apart.
This journal entry will say late September, but it's actually being written in late December. That's right, I'm going back and cheating on my journal entries. Entering them months after they actually happened.
Because. Well, at the time that they happened, things fell apart.
First of all, Birdie's departure affected me a lot more than I would admit to myself. I told myself that I expected her to go to Boston. And that's true. I was very diligent about telling myself that she would probably decide to leave at any moment on a daily basis. I guess when the clock struck September and she was still here I started to allow myself the faintest twinge of maybe she would stay here and be an Art Co-op with me. And I guess I didn't expect it to happen the way it did. One morning I was taking a break from writing my book and having a talk with her and Dave in the kitchen at 5 am. Then I went to get 6 hours of sleep and they were both gone. An empty space where they used to be. I just kept on keeping on because that's what I do. I don't ever admit to myself that I've been whalloped and staggered. I allowed myself only the aspects of myself that I'm familiar with. That she is a wonderful person and that she deserves every shot at happiness in Boston (my Arch nemisis Boston), and that I wish her well and that I'll miss her. You know, like miss her a little bit. Locked away deep on the inside was a primal scream that missed her tons.
Then, my job fell apart. I had gambled everything. You know, put the mortgage on black and let it ride. I had quit my security job and told myself I was never going back. I had roamed the land for a month and the mountain of bills was rumbling behind the closet door. I really needed that Tire Throwing job to come through. And it did. I got the damned job. I started learning how to do it. I put up with the agony of every muscle in my body aching and with coming home so sweaty and dirty that I didn't recognize myself. Dirty fingers, black snot from the rubber dust, drinking gallons of water and still feeling dehydrated. I mean, I did my part. I lived up to my part of the bargain. And then Hurricaine Rita ripped through Texas and leveled some rubber plant and the factory could get any rubber and all of a sudden I'm laid off. Just as I was starting to be able to throw two trucks in one day and make a decent income.
In late September, the only way I knew how to cope and survive was to throw myself into writing Relations book 2. Not worry about the bills that threatened to get me evicted, the bleak mood of the house, whether or not my job would call me back into work or not, my inability to get any women to be a part of my daily life. Writing. Just writing and nothing else. I lived, ate, slept and breathed Relations 2 at the end of September and beginning of October. That's why that book is so good. I concentrated more on that book than anything I've concentrated on ever. It was me and I was it. Me and that book have a bond that is rare between a creative work and the artist that creates it. We saved each other.
Anyway, so that's what happened to the jounal entries.
Sorry the Opus photo gallery is so late, better late than never. Check it out if you like:
Writing: Relations 2: SMASH YOUR TV!
Cool: words (type type type type)
Fastest truckload so far: 6 hours
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