Post by Steve on Oct 26, 2005 9:57:38 GMT -5
We cruised back over the cool blue streets -So i spent a year and a half in Japan, spinning for , a large night club owner.- wow man, japan must a been nuts- - oh, people think sakki, but they don't know about how cheap the beer is- -mmm sakki, yeah sakki nice, sakki be real nice- -but man, ALL the ecstacy as ever over there, so much..- -i dunno `bout that shit man, i like my smoke and my dope and my drinks, toss in a few shrooms or gel tabs, i'd walk to Taribithia in a night- -where the hell is Taribithia?- -uhh, no mind man no mind, i'm jus` zoned- watching grey grandmother trees streak in technological blue and i looked out the passenger window to watch them fade slowly into unlit street darkness. Streetlight flashed yellow at an interesection where a stray dog passed in front of the car, its eyes dripping shame, josh revved the engine-the pistons heaving themselves in montonous repetition, lubricated sliding within the mantle, steel mechanisms grinding like fiend's teeth, gas flowing through steel veins-the beast yelped in pain and scurried off into the darkness beneath shrubs. His sinister laugh, pieces of brautwurst caught between his teeth, i saw the reasons why humanity digusted me, disgusts me. The world no longer striped blue, no longer the world but the hollow house drowning in ocean light. Doors closed, cigarette smoked, josh and i walk inside.
i was sitting in the lawn chair i had stolen the other night while renea and i were gathering flowers, she was on the couch to my left, and he on the couch opposite her. We were splitting up more tablets, pharmacuetical stars strewn a cross the asian sakki table we found in the closet. Oh they're bitter falling around my tongue, swept away in a gulp of saliva, grabbed the piece that was being passed about our triangle. I remember talking about buddhism, correcting josh a few times on terms of Bodhisatta life and saying how i wasn't in bad shape, just practicing my Samanas way of life. The three of us were chatting, shooting shit with spit when i had an anxiety attack. I slid further into the chair and began to tear, i heard josh ask if she knew of any problems i had and i heard her say no. No, after a year of me saying that i needed to go clean because my anxiety attacks were getting worse while i was doing too much scales and uppers the summer before, she said no. I sat there like my great grandfather used to in his recliner-old brit with jug of whiskey and port wine next to his chair up till the day he died-. Renea's phone rang, the room was silent for a while, i calmed my breathing, raised myself in the chair and josh and i took another tab each and toked off the pipe. She came in saying that the person wanted to talk to me, it was adored Ashley from jersey-oh sweet love legs and frightened angel smoking grass day after day giving her heart away, and i would have asked her for it, but i would have done nothing with it, but she was talking in my ear again, speaking about coming out west in time for my birthday, making the perfect present for me- and we talked for a while. I must have been out of line cause i remember hearing her blush laugh with solar light emerging from the spaces between her teeth, had the phone taken away from me with Renea saying that i wasn't gonna sweet talk another one of her friends into wanting to get in my pants. So without arguement i gave up the phone, josh and i skipped her in our smoke hand-offs and killed the pack. I fell asleep in the chair, dreamt of a blackness as soft as my lover's kisses against my hips, as all covering as the sky was while we laid in the street; drunk, she was picking out stars that she wanted, i was promising them to her to be brought on wine tongue and dripped onto hers with sincere steadiness like ink flows from pen, like thoughts from my mind about her...a blackness that would hide me from the light of my mind.
I woke up the next day late in the afternoon as usual. Renea had stopped in a little while after i woke, eyeing me with canine anger. It was then that i knew i had done something. I bloomed into a person too eccentric for her taste, as odd as that may be, her with dreds of blue-green; lip and nose ringed; clothing screaming hippie herbal healer of little children running bare-assed in backyard, but it was the thoughts. The thoughts that had made me once intriguing now made me threatening, obscene, unstable, and i never even told her the real reason why i was always in the tub.Or this is just my imagination. My delusioned thoughts of her smile being animalistic and sly, the corners stretching a little farther to hide s astray desire to leave me somewhere, a paranoid feeling, cause, after all; i am stupid and a delusional paranoid creature crawling over life with mile long fingers devouring substances with hunger of abyss depth. No matter what, it was about mid July that i figured i had to be moving on soon, that she was never going to join me in my attempt to get to Mexico; cause after all, thats what i was aiming for. Oh, i haven't mentioned that, i thought you knew.
This was one of the last times that i saw Renea. I should feel something, but all is empty, drunk long ago. We had went with some guy that she roped in and tailed him along, convincing herself that she hadn't flirted with him the least, but had recently told she was a lesbian. The three of us, a number i oft travel in, headed to his brother's house, going to smoke and just chill. What we were smoking though, that's what made the difference. It could have been anything at that point of my trip. I was mad about nectar drenched irish beaut and her thin ivory arms quivering with gestures like leek in May breeze, mad about exotic beauty in jersey whose lap i had soiled with tears being drunk and heard her love confessions to me, sad at the thought of Faith home, now friend; tossing my image through her head with what words coming to mind i knew and know not, it was the perfect time for something with escapism as its lure to drag me under.
The car stopped at a smoke shop, only Renea and i smoked and i never imposed anything being bought for me, so i went along inside with Mike to check out cigars. He went up to the counter and i to the back of the shop, thinking about anal sex without lubricant and feeling long penis rod batter the back of my throat and elastic old age scrotum adhere to my chin so i didn't steal anything. It worked and we went back to the car. -Ian, you do drugs- -uh, yeah, more in the past than the present, but always catching up- -oh man high school...yeah, you can say he does drugs-, that was my reputation in school; drugs, mystery and poetry. -Have you ever smoked Salvia Divinorum?- -no man, what the fuck is that?- -i don't know, i haven't done it, but i hear it makes you trip like acid or something.- -oh, no, but i like acid. acid is good- and this is all we knew as we headed to his brother's house. Renea was fascinated by the clumps of resin looking material in the brown vial. I was amazed at what this herb promised, being legal and all. I had no idea where we were going, somewhere near Olympia i think, up the foot of one of the mountains that i never remembered the name of...Reiner. I presently recall, but could be dreadfully wrong.
It was a nice suburbia looking house, on a quiet lane of some sort that had an exit off the highway going along the mountain. His house was browninsh, had a feeling of 'settled down watch out for kids chasing a dog and the wife mad drinking martinis in the kitchen' which i wasn't too found about. Mike and his brother, John, looked nothing alike. Mike was tall, thin, blonde hair and had a weak personality that gave the impression that he thought himself better than others; but not confident or proud but more of a decietful heir of a feline. John was a tad bit huskier, red haired but had a face that was too round and misproportioned and struck me as a type of countenance a pedophile or sexual pervert would have.
So there we were, in this guy's living room, waiting to smoke, listening to his stories about when he smoked it -it makes you feel like you have to go for a walk...- i didn't give a shit what it made him or others he toked with feel, i wanted to smoke, and now. Renea and Mike shitted on the idea for awhile until i spoke up -Are we actually gonna smoke this shit or what?- We then moved into the garage. I was sitting in a wooden chair missing its right arm, Mike and Renea next to each other on the couch and John sitting diagonal from me in another chair. I can't remember who smoked first, i can't remember most of what happened, only what i wrote about it immediately afterwards.
july 16 from the journal
I became Prince Myshkin, for those this means little and for now that matters not, while sitting in the varnish scented garage. Before me were dignitaries in a number of three, a general, princess and a german poet; for this was the setting for the scene i had just read, all laughing at me with an air of disgust. I kept looking over my right shoulder straight out the window. The garage seemed to be infinitely long, to stretch the distance to heaven, and bursting through to the otherside in which is....I felt ashamed, i kept trying to defend myself. What words i used are beyond me my recollection, and i believe that they were beyond coherent if at all verbally developed. My tongue felt thick and hot, it kept rolling from the back of my throat towards the front as though striving for freedom from the abuse of my teeth.
I needed air, so i reached to open a window, with failure i began watching the landscape unmeasurable distances away, though were seen with uncanny detail. There was no converging of reality with what it became. From the time i first looked out of the window till now, it somehow transformed into an animation. Lay it down like this. In front and to the left of me i had laughter from people that were evidently more established than i and behind me i had a world in which i have never even dreamt of. Because mind you, I am the poor prince Myshkin; Russia in 1860's, there were no such things as animation. I watched in revelrie and horror. Now, assuming the role of myself, or narrator; you chose, i know that the outside appeared to be pre-70's cartoons. The type where the trees line an unnatural yellow dirt road, a car driving along this road, and the trees, car and the puffs of smoke coming from the exhaust pipes, all are in sync with the music. The trees, wods of green with no real defining marks, bounced up and down; squating as though they had knees. Rust or just bad color choice, the car sputtered and popped a cloud of smoke in time with the percussion assemble; and the dirt road was freckled in an obvious pattern with stones. This is what was outside of the window. This noiseless world that I, the poor prince, have never seen. I became scared and reached for the green object next to me and pulled it up to my chest.
I began to melt into the wooden seat i was on, and the entire time they'restill laughing at me with their throat thick with air. I implored them to help me, that the green blanket was slowly burning my skin. More teeth and the thin streaks of red cheek (no doubt red from the wine they had drank without me) stretching and clenching in front of me.
I fall to laughing as well.
ok now. That was what i saw, this is the real setting and what was explained afterwards.
In the garage was a couch, table and a wooden chair. The garage was a blue-ish grey and stunk like chemicals and varnish, and was very hot. Behind me was the garage door, panelled from side to side bottom to top. A solid structure. Sitting on the couch was Renea, Mike, and to the left Mike's brother, whose name i forget, but he will understand given the circumstance. Beside the wooden chair was a green bag of some sort of lawn care product. May be fertilizer (pshhhhaaw...spelling).
I sat there. I barely moved. The only thing i did was laugh a lot towards the end. And they might have seen me grip the seat of the chair, they weren't sure, as i quickly looked at Renea.
That was it.
Welcome to the world of Salvia Divinorum. You must not mind the spelling of that, and if you do; then go eat a tablespoon of epsom salt and call it a day.
All it took was 2 hits of 21 strength. I have no idea what the numbers mean other than that i now know that there are 13's and 21's. Though this stuff is far too expensive to do regularly, it is most worth going in halfsey with somebody. O man. I really thought that i was doing all of those things. I really assumed the mind set of a fictious 1800th century Russian character. And i saw a cartoon world through HIS eyes! A) i haven't seen any sort of cartoon illusions since sophmore year of H.S. when i would be trippin on the bus and a cross that tiny 6 inches they gave you to walk between seats (god help you if it was raining and you had an umbrella, you were assulted right away), in the '2 seaters'; as we called them, steam boat willy entertained me while the sun was rising behind him. It had been that long. B) if there was a B i have forgotten it in my relishings of the high. I am sorry.
This was one of the last times i saw Renea. After that night i never was in the house with her when both were awake, never smoked with her, and was completely oblivious to the way i would be slandered by her; only finding out through lemon haired lunar lipped emerald eyed Faith when i returned back to jersey. But even Faith refused me when i used my last call on my phone card to dial her house and be told to never contact her again. But this is weeks from now, i am getting ahead of myself in more ways than one.
july 17-21 from the journal
she was an irish beaut, as fragile as threads of glass, eyes of loves never told. skinflesh arms, a collar bone to cup her tears-take her to the top a reiner, after i' cut town down and left her porchlight on; write good ole fashioned love ballads with needle and thread, sewn into the petals of a rose- speaks: can't hear a word, lips moving in lonesome urges, eyes reflecting like the Diamond Sutra said about the moon.
she looked amazing tonight. not a thought other than isolating the two of us in the boughs of an apple tree. i could have spent those few minutes more wisely-she straightened herself, drew a breath and turned speaking to me...how i wanted to sit beside her on a cliff beachand let her drunken hair; blushin` bashful school girl hair wash over my face.
i would have kissed your every cell till my lips went bleu. by the greens of ireland she was beautiful tonight.
those eyes, my god those eyes, i would show every love letter of the hopeful youth flowers, written in pollen and dew all beautiful things through and through, i would show them what true mortal love. the rainy days, the wet hours, seconds beading against the window, spent catching fire off a dead man's eye of a town. there was no cat, she had my tongue all along; not like i ever asked for it back.
Somehow i was in the beamer talking to Josh again, stoned again, looking for more (though i'm broke he wants to buy us some. he was truely a kind kid, a leo like me) greens talking about hiking and what a beautiful day it was. Indeed it was a beautiful day, warm, the sun falling in deeper shades of red cause i had just woken and it was nearly 6 in the evening. We were headed to the 'Couch House', the house on 123rd str where Renea had taken me a few days before independence day-where gorgeuos irish girl stood by shade drawn window with silhoutte hanging lazily in the heat of afternoon sun, where i had taken up a habit of stopping by when i woke up, smoking with them, tell them stories and sit sometimes until the close of night secretly loving Shannon-, hoping that Shannon had some bud that we could scrounge from her. The place was kinda empty when we got there, her and one of the rooomates were arguing and it was starting to get nasty and turn people off from chilling there, but Mobe was there with her. Josh asked about the trees and we smoked a tiny nic between the two of us then- Yo, Ian, i got a few dubbs, though, i gotta be out to catch a flight in like ten minutes. you got the cash on you?- josh, do ya?- -no, we have to head to the bank...- -shit, alright, lets go i know where there's one- -ten minutes gentlemen, then i'm out.- So no problem, we get to the bank and back in like three minutes, because when it comes to words or substances being in danger, i'm the best there is. So like i said, we get back and there was plenty of time to sit back and burn a bowl or two, and while we were out Mobe had broken out the Jag, and he and i were doing shots in between tokes. Say our good byes and have funs in Alaska Mobe, and we were out, ghost, but i still had eyes until the door closed, on Shannon. She had only smiled and gave me permission to drink more alcohol, then said -You should REALLY come over later Ian-, but that was enough to speed up my hearrt.
Now stoned, in the beamer, josh was grinding his teeth with energy and the desire to -Go do something dude, i don't know or care, i just gotta go do something- so we ended up going back to the house on tweaker hill-a nickname i gave Renea's house, being on somewhat of a hill and surrounded by meth labs and at the top of the hill evidence of tweakers (methheads) shooting up and drinking littered the path up to Pacific Ave.-in search of Renea. We found her and decided on the great idea to pop more pills and go for a walk. The three of us, me carrying a guitar case for an open mic later that night, walked to the lutheran campus. The trees were in green vegetable aisle blossom, fresh green asparaus brocholili green, a few cherry trees feathered white a circle by their feet. We walked through laughing quietly at the ocassional passing student or professor, Renea being a downer the entire time -where are we going?- -we don't know man, whereever we feel like we should, whichever direction we decide to travel- - right josh?- -oh yeah man yeah. dude, i'm floating, i'm not even walking, just floating following Ian- -and i'm just following the song o the wind, feeling it wrap its cool slender fingers around my waist and gently pull in a direction- -what the fuck are you guys on? why didn't you give me any? its more than the weed we smoked back at the house. you're fucked up! both of you!- I looked over at josh who had a big bereted jesus grin of angelic innocence on his face,no, plastered, adhered, imbetted into his face. He was walking loose legged, throwing one foot in front of the other with careless junkie swagger, old china man opium gait. i looked back at Renea and let out an insane cackle, my eyes glimmered like i had tuberculosis and my voice rang out louder the Notrre Dame's bells. Envious, jealous our high, of our connection she grimaced at me, bore her teeth like rabid cur, i smiled blindly into the sun - i am the great poet clown, large lush nose gin blossom cheeks, my tears are only tap water and my fears are only popping balloon animals. Laugh at me, laugh at me, laugh at me, let the sun burn my body into atomic mushroom cloud ash. i am through with this place, i pine over lost love sitting next to man she wants not but leaves not. i am great joker novelist, read my words and laugh at me laugh at me laught at me!- Josh snickered at the non-sense, smiled even wider at me.
i was sitting in the lawn chair i had stolen the other night while renea and i were gathering flowers, she was on the couch to my left, and he on the couch opposite her. We were splitting up more tablets, pharmacuetical stars strewn a cross the asian sakki table we found in the closet. Oh they're bitter falling around my tongue, swept away in a gulp of saliva, grabbed the piece that was being passed about our triangle. I remember talking about buddhism, correcting josh a few times on terms of Bodhisatta life and saying how i wasn't in bad shape, just practicing my Samanas way of life. The three of us were chatting, shooting shit with spit when i had an anxiety attack. I slid further into the chair and began to tear, i heard josh ask if she knew of any problems i had and i heard her say no. No, after a year of me saying that i needed to go clean because my anxiety attacks were getting worse while i was doing too much scales and uppers the summer before, she said no. I sat there like my great grandfather used to in his recliner-old brit with jug of whiskey and port wine next to his chair up till the day he died-. Renea's phone rang, the room was silent for a while, i calmed my breathing, raised myself in the chair and josh and i took another tab each and toked off the pipe. She came in saying that the person wanted to talk to me, it was adored Ashley from jersey-oh sweet love legs and frightened angel smoking grass day after day giving her heart away, and i would have asked her for it, but i would have done nothing with it, but she was talking in my ear again, speaking about coming out west in time for my birthday, making the perfect present for me- and we talked for a while. I must have been out of line cause i remember hearing her blush laugh with solar light emerging from the spaces between her teeth, had the phone taken away from me with Renea saying that i wasn't gonna sweet talk another one of her friends into wanting to get in my pants. So without arguement i gave up the phone, josh and i skipped her in our smoke hand-offs and killed the pack. I fell asleep in the chair, dreamt of a blackness as soft as my lover's kisses against my hips, as all covering as the sky was while we laid in the street; drunk, she was picking out stars that she wanted, i was promising them to her to be brought on wine tongue and dripped onto hers with sincere steadiness like ink flows from pen, like thoughts from my mind about her...a blackness that would hide me from the light of my mind.
I woke up the next day late in the afternoon as usual. Renea had stopped in a little while after i woke, eyeing me with canine anger. It was then that i knew i had done something. I bloomed into a person too eccentric for her taste, as odd as that may be, her with dreds of blue-green; lip and nose ringed; clothing screaming hippie herbal healer of little children running bare-assed in backyard, but it was the thoughts. The thoughts that had made me once intriguing now made me threatening, obscene, unstable, and i never even told her the real reason why i was always in the tub.Or this is just my imagination. My delusioned thoughts of her smile being animalistic and sly, the corners stretching a little farther to hide s astray desire to leave me somewhere, a paranoid feeling, cause, after all; i am stupid and a delusional paranoid creature crawling over life with mile long fingers devouring substances with hunger of abyss depth. No matter what, it was about mid July that i figured i had to be moving on soon, that she was never going to join me in my attempt to get to Mexico; cause after all, thats what i was aiming for. Oh, i haven't mentioned that, i thought you knew.
This was one of the last times that i saw Renea. I should feel something, but all is empty, drunk long ago. We had went with some guy that she roped in and tailed him along, convincing herself that she hadn't flirted with him the least, but had recently told she was a lesbian. The three of us, a number i oft travel in, headed to his brother's house, going to smoke and just chill. What we were smoking though, that's what made the difference. It could have been anything at that point of my trip. I was mad about nectar drenched irish beaut and her thin ivory arms quivering with gestures like leek in May breeze, mad about exotic beauty in jersey whose lap i had soiled with tears being drunk and heard her love confessions to me, sad at the thought of Faith home, now friend; tossing my image through her head with what words coming to mind i knew and know not, it was the perfect time for something with escapism as its lure to drag me under.
The car stopped at a smoke shop, only Renea and i smoked and i never imposed anything being bought for me, so i went along inside with Mike to check out cigars. He went up to the counter and i to the back of the shop, thinking about anal sex without lubricant and feeling long penis rod batter the back of my throat and elastic old age scrotum adhere to my chin so i didn't steal anything. It worked and we went back to the car. -Ian, you do drugs- -uh, yeah, more in the past than the present, but always catching up- -oh man high school...yeah, you can say he does drugs-, that was my reputation in school; drugs, mystery and poetry. -Have you ever smoked Salvia Divinorum?- -no man, what the fuck is that?- -i don't know, i haven't done it, but i hear it makes you trip like acid or something.- -oh, no, but i like acid. acid is good- and this is all we knew as we headed to his brother's house. Renea was fascinated by the clumps of resin looking material in the brown vial. I was amazed at what this herb promised, being legal and all. I had no idea where we were going, somewhere near Olympia i think, up the foot of one of the mountains that i never remembered the name of...Reiner. I presently recall, but could be dreadfully wrong.
It was a nice suburbia looking house, on a quiet lane of some sort that had an exit off the highway going along the mountain. His house was browninsh, had a feeling of 'settled down watch out for kids chasing a dog and the wife mad drinking martinis in the kitchen' which i wasn't too found about. Mike and his brother, John, looked nothing alike. Mike was tall, thin, blonde hair and had a weak personality that gave the impression that he thought himself better than others; but not confident or proud but more of a decietful heir of a feline. John was a tad bit huskier, red haired but had a face that was too round and misproportioned and struck me as a type of countenance a pedophile or sexual pervert would have.
So there we were, in this guy's living room, waiting to smoke, listening to his stories about when he smoked it -it makes you feel like you have to go for a walk...- i didn't give a shit what it made him or others he toked with feel, i wanted to smoke, and now. Renea and Mike shitted on the idea for awhile until i spoke up -Are we actually gonna smoke this shit or what?- We then moved into the garage. I was sitting in a wooden chair missing its right arm, Mike and Renea next to each other on the couch and John sitting diagonal from me in another chair. I can't remember who smoked first, i can't remember most of what happened, only what i wrote about it immediately afterwards.
july 16 from the journal
I became Prince Myshkin, for those this means little and for now that matters not, while sitting in the varnish scented garage. Before me were dignitaries in a number of three, a general, princess and a german poet; for this was the setting for the scene i had just read, all laughing at me with an air of disgust. I kept looking over my right shoulder straight out the window. The garage seemed to be infinitely long, to stretch the distance to heaven, and bursting through to the otherside in which is....I felt ashamed, i kept trying to defend myself. What words i used are beyond me my recollection, and i believe that they were beyond coherent if at all verbally developed. My tongue felt thick and hot, it kept rolling from the back of my throat towards the front as though striving for freedom from the abuse of my teeth.
I needed air, so i reached to open a window, with failure i began watching the landscape unmeasurable distances away, though were seen with uncanny detail. There was no converging of reality with what it became. From the time i first looked out of the window till now, it somehow transformed into an animation. Lay it down like this. In front and to the left of me i had laughter from people that were evidently more established than i and behind me i had a world in which i have never even dreamt of. Because mind you, I am the poor prince Myshkin; Russia in 1860's, there were no such things as animation. I watched in revelrie and horror. Now, assuming the role of myself, or narrator; you chose, i know that the outside appeared to be pre-70's cartoons. The type where the trees line an unnatural yellow dirt road, a car driving along this road, and the trees, car and the puffs of smoke coming from the exhaust pipes, all are in sync with the music. The trees, wods of green with no real defining marks, bounced up and down; squating as though they had knees. Rust or just bad color choice, the car sputtered and popped a cloud of smoke in time with the percussion assemble; and the dirt road was freckled in an obvious pattern with stones. This is what was outside of the window. This noiseless world that I, the poor prince, have never seen. I became scared and reached for the green object next to me and pulled it up to my chest.
I began to melt into the wooden seat i was on, and the entire time they'restill laughing at me with their throat thick with air. I implored them to help me, that the green blanket was slowly burning my skin. More teeth and the thin streaks of red cheek (no doubt red from the wine they had drank without me) stretching and clenching in front of me.
I fall to laughing as well.
ok now. That was what i saw, this is the real setting and what was explained afterwards.
In the garage was a couch, table and a wooden chair. The garage was a blue-ish grey and stunk like chemicals and varnish, and was very hot. Behind me was the garage door, panelled from side to side bottom to top. A solid structure. Sitting on the couch was Renea, Mike, and to the left Mike's brother, whose name i forget, but he will understand given the circumstance. Beside the wooden chair was a green bag of some sort of lawn care product. May be fertilizer (pshhhhaaw...spelling).
I sat there. I barely moved. The only thing i did was laugh a lot towards the end. And they might have seen me grip the seat of the chair, they weren't sure, as i quickly looked at Renea.
That was it.
Welcome to the world of Salvia Divinorum. You must not mind the spelling of that, and if you do; then go eat a tablespoon of epsom salt and call it a day.
All it took was 2 hits of 21 strength. I have no idea what the numbers mean other than that i now know that there are 13's and 21's. Though this stuff is far too expensive to do regularly, it is most worth going in halfsey with somebody. O man. I really thought that i was doing all of those things. I really assumed the mind set of a fictious 1800th century Russian character. And i saw a cartoon world through HIS eyes! A) i haven't seen any sort of cartoon illusions since sophmore year of H.S. when i would be trippin on the bus and a cross that tiny 6 inches they gave you to walk between seats (god help you if it was raining and you had an umbrella, you were assulted right away), in the '2 seaters'; as we called them, steam boat willy entertained me while the sun was rising behind him. It had been that long. B) if there was a B i have forgotten it in my relishings of the high. I am sorry.
This was one of the last times i saw Renea. After that night i never was in the house with her when both were awake, never smoked with her, and was completely oblivious to the way i would be slandered by her; only finding out through lemon haired lunar lipped emerald eyed Faith when i returned back to jersey. But even Faith refused me when i used my last call on my phone card to dial her house and be told to never contact her again. But this is weeks from now, i am getting ahead of myself in more ways than one.
july 17-21 from the journal
she was an irish beaut, as fragile as threads of glass, eyes of loves never told. skinflesh arms, a collar bone to cup her tears-take her to the top a reiner, after i' cut town down and left her porchlight on; write good ole fashioned love ballads with needle and thread, sewn into the petals of a rose- speaks: can't hear a word, lips moving in lonesome urges, eyes reflecting like the Diamond Sutra said about the moon.
she looked amazing tonight. not a thought other than isolating the two of us in the boughs of an apple tree. i could have spent those few minutes more wisely-she straightened herself, drew a breath and turned speaking to me...how i wanted to sit beside her on a cliff beachand let her drunken hair; blushin` bashful school girl hair wash over my face.
i would have kissed your every cell till my lips went bleu. by the greens of ireland she was beautiful tonight.
those eyes, my god those eyes, i would show every love letter of the hopeful youth flowers, written in pollen and dew all beautiful things through and through, i would show them what true mortal love. the rainy days, the wet hours, seconds beading against the window, spent catching fire off a dead man's eye of a town. there was no cat, she had my tongue all along; not like i ever asked for it back.
Somehow i was in the beamer talking to Josh again, stoned again, looking for more (though i'm broke he wants to buy us some. he was truely a kind kid, a leo like me) greens talking about hiking and what a beautiful day it was. Indeed it was a beautiful day, warm, the sun falling in deeper shades of red cause i had just woken and it was nearly 6 in the evening. We were headed to the 'Couch House', the house on 123rd str where Renea had taken me a few days before independence day-where gorgeuos irish girl stood by shade drawn window with silhoutte hanging lazily in the heat of afternoon sun, where i had taken up a habit of stopping by when i woke up, smoking with them, tell them stories and sit sometimes until the close of night secretly loving Shannon-, hoping that Shannon had some bud that we could scrounge from her. The place was kinda empty when we got there, her and one of the rooomates were arguing and it was starting to get nasty and turn people off from chilling there, but Mobe was there with her. Josh asked about the trees and we smoked a tiny nic between the two of us then- Yo, Ian, i got a few dubbs, though, i gotta be out to catch a flight in like ten minutes. you got the cash on you?- josh, do ya?- -no, we have to head to the bank...- -shit, alright, lets go i know where there's one- -ten minutes gentlemen, then i'm out.- So no problem, we get to the bank and back in like three minutes, because when it comes to words or substances being in danger, i'm the best there is. So like i said, we get back and there was plenty of time to sit back and burn a bowl or two, and while we were out Mobe had broken out the Jag, and he and i were doing shots in between tokes. Say our good byes and have funs in Alaska Mobe, and we were out, ghost, but i still had eyes until the door closed, on Shannon. She had only smiled and gave me permission to drink more alcohol, then said -You should REALLY come over later Ian-, but that was enough to speed up my hearrt.
Now stoned, in the beamer, josh was grinding his teeth with energy and the desire to -Go do something dude, i don't know or care, i just gotta go do something- so we ended up going back to the house on tweaker hill-a nickname i gave Renea's house, being on somewhat of a hill and surrounded by meth labs and at the top of the hill evidence of tweakers (methheads) shooting up and drinking littered the path up to Pacific Ave.-in search of Renea. We found her and decided on the great idea to pop more pills and go for a walk. The three of us, me carrying a guitar case for an open mic later that night, walked to the lutheran campus. The trees were in green vegetable aisle blossom, fresh green asparaus brocholili green, a few cherry trees feathered white a circle by their feet. We walked through laughing quietly at the ocassional passing student or professor, Renea being a downer the entire time -where are we going?- -we don't know man, whereever we feel like we should, whichever direction we decide to travel- - right josh?- -oh yeah man yeah. dude, i'm floating, i'm not even walking, just floating following Ian- -and i'm just following the song o the wind, feeling it wrap its cool slender fingers around my waist and gently pull in a direction- -what the fuck are you guys on? why didn't you give me any? its more than the weed we smoked back at the house. you're fucked up! both of you!- I looked over at josh who had a big bereted jesus grin of angelic innocence on his face,no, plastered, adhered, imbetted into his face. He was walking loose legged, throwing one foot in front of the other with careless junkie swagger, old china man opium gait. i looked back at Renea and let out an insane cackle, my eyes glimmered like i had tuberculosis and my voice rang out louder the Notrre Dame's bells. Envious, jealous our high, of our connection she grimaced at me, bore her teeth like rabid cur, i smiled blindly into the sun - i am the great poet clown, large lush nose gin blossom cheeks, my tears are only tap water and my fears are only popping balloon animals. Laugh at me, laugh at me, laugh at me, let the sun burn my body into atomic mushroom cloud ash. i am through with this place, i pine over lost love sitting next to man she wants not but leaves not. i am great joker novelist, read my words and laugh at me laugh at me laught at me!- Josh snickered at the non-sense, smiled even wider at me.