DREAMING, RECOVERING , WAKING, REDREAMING, REAWAKENING ... what is when when this is now?
After a seemingly incredibly long night during which my loud thinking repeatedly awakened me I sit here at close to 6pm wondering what to make of it all. Famous faces, vacuous spaces all spinning through my mind. What can I give voice to in the darkness? It is sunset now. The sun is vanishing and all of us here must survive throughout the long night.
Thank God for electric lighting!!
Laundretta did a little more tantrum-giving. One time when I opened the front door to her when she had lost Matran's key for the zillionth time she (& why on earth did she do this?!?) "offered me out" for a fight!! Something to do with her drunken gurglings ... she thought I somehow took issue with her ... or cared about her sozzled brain's shortcircuited connexions. I stepped over her and told her not to mistake me for someone who gave a sh--.
Mother Hubbard was going ape this morning because she couldn't score. Pascal saved the day, offering to purchase a weighed amount with her money. So I came with him to a vulgar house. Crackhouse might be the word the newspapers would use for it. Three black early twentysomethings sitting round a breakfast table having their breakfast. Only food did not come into it. Breakfast for them came in white smokey form: crack cocaine. And one of them, perhaps the biggest one in there, with particularly rampant afro hair outgrowings and the pastiest pallid face turned out upon our leaving actually to be a woman!!
I'm glad I brought a newspaper with me to that place. Not only did it kill the boredom of sitting in someone else's "crack"house nonrentpaid virtual squat (and I'm sure that's what it was, somewhere the landlord was being strung out for as long as he possibly could be for no rent at all...) but avoided my making eyecontact with any of these people who thought they were so ... well, not cool but so whatever they thought they were ... and basically gave me a mental teleport outta that situation. I'm getting old now. Too old for situations like that.
At long last, nearly an hour later, Pascal's friend's friend eventually showed up with this heroin and we made good our escape. I couldn't help but wonder, as we walked out, who those young people were, how they made their money, what they thought they were doing and where they were all going in life. Sometimes it's so much easier to focus those questions on somebody else.
Am I making any sense in an otherwise nonsensical day? O what am I saying? The day has gone past. Evening is come. Tomorrow shall arise as predicted.
I have nothing to latch on to. Nothing IS as predicted. Does that make any sense to you. Does that make any sense?
I want to lie down. And then unconsciousness takes away the time. And dreams knit together what remains of reality into fables. Simple as. Simple.
If only life was that straightforward!
Hey GW, After reading your blog for a while I have a few questions. I hope you don't mind me asking and in no way am I expecting you to answer any of them. Some people think I'm very blunt, which I probably am...
ReplyDelete1) I'm guessing your place isn't like that crackhouse you described. What kind of housing do you live in?
2) How do you earn/get the money to live from and are you able to save some *at all* ?
3) In your blog you sound intelligent, funny, honest, clear and to the point. Basically as a nice person. Yet it seems you only go out to score. Is there anything else you do? See other people socially, ie not drug-related?
PS. how do you get comments with your name in them erased, especially if they are really inflamatory and in somebody's blog and anybody who might want to hire you can type your name into google and find the AWFUL comments? How do you get them erased when the owner wont erase them and you no longer can sign into the blogger site you owned and erase them yourself? How do you get the "blogger administtater" to erase them? I'll email you the links I'm talking about if you need to see them. Anyway I'm putting you on overload now I'll go. XOXOXOX Ivs
ReplyDeleteGleds, just seen your coment "this is a bad post"
ReplyDelete(that's my test blog, by the way, where I first try out any changes I want to make to the rants and raves so that I know any particular change will not spoil the main blog template.)
It should be as simple to post pictures as writing text. When one types into the text field on blogger, you should also see a row of icons just above that text field. The second from last icon, a small blue square picture is the "insert image" facility. Click on that and you should be able to browse around your hard drive for any image you want to include. Select your image, click "upload image" and you will find that image placed into position on your post. Just follow the directions. I usually start by uploading the picture and then typing the text(if any!) around that. There are fine settings to alter such as picture position, size, etc. but that is the basic procedure. If you need any more help, just ask!
Gleds your posts are getting more and more poetical. Stop faffing about and get that poetry blog sorted out.
ReplyDeleteRx
You asked where they were going in life, but where ever it is, it probably isn't very far.
ReplyDeleteYou can't help people who aren't willing to help themselves. Sometimes it's all you can do to hold your own head out of the water.
-P
Ivy the blogger administrator is you: surely?
ReplyDeleteYou know how to erase your own comments when you're logged in as self and comment on someone ele's blog you just use that trashcan but that isn't what you're asking is it ...
I don't know that there is a way but let me ask someone I know who really does know his IT then I can get back to you with a better answer.
Duh. The blogger administrator is the person who "owns" or runs the blog. So on YOUR blog it is you. On John's blog it is john ...
ReplyDeleteLet me TRY and find out more...
Well, this is just a comment from a middle-aged white American woman, but didn't you feel even slightly unsafe in that house? Because I'm nervous for you.
ReplyDelete