Remembering My Journal

I was rummaging through some of my old stuff and came across a journal that I used to write in. Upon reading it I realized that The Randomness of My Crackhead started around 10 years ago on paper and I am just continuing it on in web format in front of you who travel to this corner of the blogosphere. Excerpts from my prior ramblings follow:

As Bill Cosby once said, "I started out as a child." My addition to that is that it's pretty much all gone down hill since then. I just wonder sometimes if that hill is just a little bit steeper for other people. Like a cliff. They start out as a child and then fall off a cliff. Right onto their head. It seems to me that because of that fall some people grow up stupid.

Things go through my head sometimes that scare me. Now these things aren't necessarily bad all the time, just weird to the point of being scary. I daydream too often for too long sometimes. My mind works in weird ways. It's like my brain chooses to jump out of my head and do LSD when I'm not looking and sit back and laugh at me while my body deals with the effects.

I wonder what it would be like to live in my mind. To me it's pretty boring, I guess, because it's my mind. But I think it would probably kill someone else. I've heard it theorized that if two people ever actually did switch bodies, the slight changes in perception, height and other things that may just seem minor to us, would drive a person insane. Maybe that's what happened to me. Someone put me in another person's body and that's why I'm insane. I don't know. Maybe I was just born that way.

Once upon a time on another world far away lived a boy with nothing to live for. In the darkest of times he fought wars with no purpose other than to die. He didn't want freedom, he didn't want his homeland, those had been taken from him long before. He just wanted a release from pain that he could never give himself.

I don't know what is worse, being bored, or being bored and alone. When you're bored and not alone, the person or people you are with keep you from doing anything stupid. When you're bored and alone you start thinking about lining up the drinking glasses on the couch and seeing how good my aim is with my BB gun.

I wonder how well I'd write on drugs. I wonder what would come off of my pen if I was sitting on the couch all cracked out with a strobe light flashing in my face and over the paper. Would it be brilliant? Psychotic? Or would I just be curled up fetal screaming about bugs? Probably the bugs.

Hippies really kick ass. They smell kind of funny though. That's all.

I wish I could fly. I think it would be cool just to be above everything and look down. I wonder what the birds would think. When you come to think about it, that's the only advantage they have over us. I mean, sure, we have planes and gliders and stuff, but we can't just take to the air of our own accord. We need jets and wings and propellers and stuff. We don't have any of that crap built on to our bodies. But seriously, if we could fly, do you think the birds would be pissed? Would they all, just like, band together and give everything a gooey shit bath from above? That's what I think would happen. Deep thoughts.

No, I'm not on drugs right now.

I've heard that a person could swallow his or her own tongue. I don't know about that. I've tried this a couple of times and it just made me feel like I had to throw up.

I just got a tattoo about two weeks ago. It's a dragon on my right arm. I suppose that makes me hardcore now, maybe like those guys on Harley's that go from town to town visiting strip clubs and breaking beer bottles over their heads. My head is now bleeding and I've still never been to a strip club.

Gymnast girls. God damn. That's all.

I have a confession to make. I'm really a man. And a total lesbian. Total lesbian.

I remember my Nona sitting in her wheelchair behind the kitchen table watching soaps on TV. She always had a warm smile for whomever walked into her home and would never let you leave without eating a plate of food. She always thought I was too skinny. I miss my Nona.

I am a ghost. Maybe not in the conventional sense of the word, but then again, maybe I am. I live, if that's what you could call it, among normal people, if that's what you could call them...I breathe, walk, bleed and cry just the same as everybody else around me. But I am dead. I breathe stale air, walk in a perpetual daze and bleed lifeless, contaminated blood. I infect and am infected by all around me. Supposedly when your body dies, your soul lives on. But what happens when your soul dies? Is that when you become a zombie? I am hungry, but not for flesh or brains.

Let go of the pain. It's okay to hurt, but let it run it's course. Don't hold on to it. Let go of the anger. Do you even know why you are mad anymore? Find peace within yourself. You know where you need to be. Go there. Don't settle for good enough. Demand the best and be the best. Have patience, but don't let a good thing pass you by.

I erase everything in my brain so I don't think and I don't feel and most importantly, so that I don't ACT. It's better that way. It's safer that way. It's so I don't hurt myself or the people around me. I just go into my brain and shut it off.


Between all of this mishmash is crammed a comic book that I was working on at the time (never published or to see the light of day), the ups and downs of past relationships, a bunch of songs that got me through the day written out on paper, and finally the log of my messed up financial situation of many years back. It's funny how I look back on all of these entries now and it seems so long ago, almost like another life that happened to another person, or a plot line that I would dream up for a character in a book. I am a firm believer in not looking backwards and regretting the things that have happened or the mistakes that were made, but sometimes it is nice to steal a quick glance over your shoulder and realize just how far you've come.

Good night dear readers.