catch-up

i haven’t had internet at home for awhile. being unemployed has led rent to being a close one most of the time. so, cable/internet is low priority.

i wrote this 8.4.11 in microsoft word.

I’ve been telling you this over and over, but I can’t tell you how many blog posts I’ve stopped and started; started and stopped. Left for dead; abandoned where they stand, waiting for someone to come round and listen to them give their testimony. Give my testimony, I guess, which is why they are left hanging, I suppose.

I’m listening to “Flashes and Cables” while I write this – in my friend’s house while she’s on a trip. I had hoped she had internet, but I can’t figure out her network password, so there’s a good chance this will never get posted, either. Like my McCartney review that’s half done, waiting for a blog post and a finish. I really need to do that, though. If nothing else to witness to the goodness of the universe and the power of music and the greatness of my favorite Beatle. How magical.

Anyway, I’m sitting here, listening to memories and wondering how my life got here. There’s so much that’s on repeat that I can’t even believe it. Friends not understanding, or understanding and just deciding they’re fed up with me anyway. Feeling simultaneously out of control and paralyzed. Feeling like I’ll never get anywhere and lying right down in that belief. Looking around at everyone moving and doing and acting and wondering how they pull it off every day; how they have always managed it. Knowing that action is the key, has always been the key and just thinking, wondering if it’s just better to give up now. Wondering what that even means. Watching my world as I know it end and not really caring. Yes., literally. Figuratively. And all I do is read some tweets here and there and catch the Daily Show in spurts. If I actually read the news or paid too much attention to how miserable I really feel, I think I’d break right down and never get up.

The thing is, I keep thinking about all these things I want to do and get done and be and help and act and inspire and feel and dance and change. The disparity between this mental life and my real, waking life is beyond laughable. It’s tragic. It’s funny – one of the things I’ve been asked to do; challenged to do; begged to do; reproached and deserted to do is this “searching and fearless moral inventory” called the 4th step in coffee club. I’ve been resistant to it for a long time. I’m not even sure why. I’ve done one before; I wouldn’t consider it my finest work. But often one finds that the things they most hate/despise/resent in other people are the very things hiding out/most glaringly obvious about themselves.

I’ve been having a struggle over the last half-decade with a friend – briefly, a former lover, who sounds a lot like that previous paragraph. And I’ve realized a lot this summer that the things that frustrate me most about him – the wasted talent, the lost potential, the inability to hear, accept or receive love or praise, the absolute refusal to do anything about anything – it’s just me over and over again. What to do? What to do?

In that case, tell him I love him and not speak to him since. It’s been a long, hard painful summer.

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