the seeds, the trees

"But once in a while there's a great dynamite-burst of flying glass and brick and splinters through the front wall and somebody stalks over the rubble, seizes me by the throat and gently says, 'I will not let you go until you set me, in words, on paper.'" – Richard Bach

Tag: brain

Cigarettes! I quit

I opened my eyes one morning after getting into bed at 6 a.m. and trying to sleep, but I couldn’t so I just lay there thinking about a whole bunch of shit that doesn’t do me any good to think about, and I opened my eyes at about 7:30 because I swear I couldn’t take it anymore, and I thought that if I kept on thinking I would just go out of my fucking mind.

So I opened my eyes because I wanted everything to stop. I wanted to shut my brain down and I thought it might be less wild in the light. So I opened my eyes and decided I was going to quit smoking. I am going to quit smoking, I told myself. And it’s going to be really fucking hard. Look, you’re going to listen to a really good song in the car and you’re not going to be able to smoke a cigarette. You’re going to listen to Slug and you’re not going to smoke a cigarette. And these are the sacrifices you’re going to have to make. You are going to have to sacrifice. And it’s going to be hard. And when all your friends are smoking cigarettes around you, which they’re going to be, you’ll have to tell them that you quit smoking.

This is exactly what you’re going to say: “I quit smoking. And I’m not fucking around.” That’s what you’re going to have to say. And they’re going to offer you cigarettes, and you’re going to have to say, “No thank you. I’m not fucking around. I told you that earlier. I’m not fucking around. I quit.”

I was so excited to start my day. I thought I had a whole new life waiting for me, and I started wondering about all the ways my life would change. I was expecting big change. Change I couldn’t even imagine because it would be so big.

And now I’m high and want to give up because that’s what smoking weed makes you do, and I’m smoking cigarettes inside and the whole room smells like smoke and I’m pretty sure I’m inhaling all the smoke I blow out and I’m afraid I’m going to get mouth cancer because I chew my lips until they bleed and then smoke cigarettes, inside, and I breathe second smoke, I really didn’t want to write ‘hand’ for some reason, and I don’t know how you diagnose mouth cancer but either my lips will turn purple or I will grow a tumor on the side of my lip the size of a tennis ball. That is what I have decided. I am very sure that this will happen. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

Free write

Nectar. Something of the gods. Lands of milk and honey, without roads or dust, only smoothness and gold. Light with clouds; white and blue, the color of nurseries. A paradise for the babies who don’t know any better, who don’t understand night or the people who love them or hands or toes or colors or mouths. They don’t know how sad you can get, driving in a car, anyone’s car, listening to a song and you get it, this world and everything in it. You will never see it all, never hear it all, nothing is good – not all the way through – and if it is, it doesn’t last, because once it’s good, it rots and falls away. Isn’t that terrible? To see it this way? I wish my insides could talk. Not just my silly brain, resting on its stem all the way up here like a king ignorant of his subjects. Stupid, selfish brain. Get it together, you slimy, wrinkled sponge, sopping up everything in your way, squeeze you out, but all the shit remains.