Let’s see where this mix takes us this evening.
The plan is to revisit the music in it’s entirety whilst writing for at least one hour non-stop accepting whatever comes up. I’ve never done this before but its difficult to type when all thoughts are consumed with that which I do NOT wish to talk about. Absorbed in positive intrusive thinking helps to re-ground myself without stepping out of the situation. I’d like to remain present (from a distance). It’s a bit tricky to even think. My brain wants to explore things that have been of interest to me lately, my spirit is sulking, somewhat pissed off with singing and dancing. It feels stupid for everything. For its previous way of ‘living’ on a high.
I almost crumbled tonight and gave in to ordering 5 grams of cocaine to share between two of us. As if that makes it alright. Its a lot. To be it sounds like nothing much. I almost crumbled into getting myself back into deep debt again. I just couldn’t justify the cost. So I stopped all thoughts of ‘if you can’t beat them join them’. I wouldn’t have been enjoying the moment or it might have been terrifyingly different. A heightened sense of knowing my reality, inebriated investigations into personal possibilities, adding up to not-a-lot, existential explorations exploited and tarnished by limited life expectancy. I wouldn’t feel like fucking. The music would whisk me of into a wistful world of worries and woe-is-me. Was any of this worth it now?
Walking through town (Manchester City Centre) the other day felt automated like I was already a ghost and the rest of the people went by in a blurred indifference. I didn’t feel like caring about anything because I was more than just invisible, I was irrelevant. I felt like a stranger amongst locals on my home stomping ground. I heard nothing but the gravel in my throat and the thumping of my own heart beat inside my ears, rubbing my temple I was afraid to blink. I didn’t want my eyes to close.
I started to revel in the freedom to float through the world and know that none of this mattered to me anymore. It never actually DID matter, but it was like a load had been lifted. Like picking up an old house brick from the lawn in your childhood back garden. Uncovering home of creatures who lived in the dirt and you disregard the brick over the wall, looking at the shallow hole of flattened mud. You lose touch with what is, and focus on what is lost. I am those wood lice, scattering across the patch of homeland, running for shelter in the long wet grass. I am nothing more nothing less than fucked over. I have lived for nothing.
If suffering is all there is, I wish to suffer longer. There is no surprise ending. The shock is real. You were always right. There is no more to life that this. You are who you are now and will die as the person you were 5 minutes before your final breath. You wont look back at the past. Your life does not flash before your eyes. You know inside your soul that this moment is all you are and all you have lived for, everything leading up to this is gone.
I felt alone again. A lone wolf. I like this solitude. It’s okay.
I only wrote for 10 minutes. I recovered a letter from messenger media files. I remember writing this after a cocaine session, through paranoia, and thinking we were ending. Back then I might have been over-reacting, I was wrong about us ‘splitting up’ It’s still the only letter of love that I could muster up at this moment in time. 28.10.24 - My life is in waiting until 05.11.24 when I should get my results. Until then, I am in LIMBO. x
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