Four Little Words

I have been having a rough shit of a time these past several weeks. When depression is at an eleven, I go silent. Y’all have heard all my crying before, so why repeat the tune?

Some days hours minutes it feels like I don’t even have the power nor the ability to breathe. All I can do is sit dumbly and stare without sight at the thing in front of me. Photons dance and neurons fire, but I can’t grok a damn thing.

Creeping up from the floor under me, the voices of the Dead and the shades of the dead speak. In those moments when I am more dead than alive, they animate me until I recover and can breathe again. I have always heard them say four words, but I have only understood the first two.

“Stay clean.” Continue reading Four Little Words

Dream Journal: 2016-07-30.01

I walked into a private back room of a someplace bar expecting to catch up with some esoteric friends for beer and/or shenanigans. (Beer optional. Shenanigans required.) They had a tagalong in the form of a Me Too guy who wanted to catapult himself into the upper echelon of our not-a-coven gatherings. He identified me as the person to unseat and often got on my nerves. Continue reading Dream Journal: 2016-07-30.01

Dream Journal: 2016-07-17.01

Lunch time was over, and I was waiting at the red light for the usual traffic shuffle on my way back to work. In the lane to my left, a gentleman in a faded black 1940’s truck was doing the same. Heavy traffic in our direction meant we were both stuck in place as the light cycled from red to green.

Traffic coming from work was not as heavily impacted, and a few vehicles made it across the intersection before being locked into place with the stoplights at the intersection behind me. Both the gentleman and I idly looked over at the flatbed truck now open to our inspection. I remained calm looking over the old wood boards being carried away. The gentleman became alarmed.

“Excuse me!” He waved at the driver of the flatbed. “Where did you get those boards from?” Continue reading Dream Journal: 2016-07-17.01

Spirit Journal: 2016-07-13.01

The past is reaching. And touching. An album I first heard when deeply Christian came up on shuffle. I’ve bought it three times and threw it away twice from the exhortations of my church going peers. I ripped it, deleted the rip, and found I had the rip backed up in several spaces. While I eventually went on to enjoy the band’s later works, this first album always remained on the knife edge of discomforting curiosity.

I listened to the entire album for the first time since 2003.

What I heard did not match what I remembered. Continue reading Spirit Journal: 2016-07-13.01