You want to know the worst part about a break-up? It’s not the knowledge that your former lover is now in bed with someone else. It’s not thoughts of the genitalia that you once coveted enough to call your own are now being serviced by another. After all you will hopefully be doing the same thing if you can stop wallowing in self-pity long enough to go out and attract someone as desperate as you. NO, the worst part is not having your friend there to talk to anymore. Not having the person you just shared X amount of years or time with. Not having someone around who gets your little inside jokes. You miss the only person who understood you or at least stood you.
I know if you’re reading this blog then you are probably tired of hearing me whine about this transition that I’m going through. I’m sure you would rather that I review a movie I saw recently or some book I read. I ‘m sure you would rather I blathered on about something political, an anarchist rant left over from when I was a teenager. Something anti-religious, r something that shines light on a certain subject I just heard about. But, I can’t. Not right now. Right now I am going through some things. And keeping up on the latest political issues aren’t that important to me right now. I can barely pay attention to wrestling which I love more than life itself. I have become slack with my comics and can barely keep my Tumblr, tumbling. I watched Ghostbusters 1 and 2 before coming out to Starbucks to get online today. I found myself more than ever examining the rocky relationship between Bill Murray and Sigourney Weaver. I chuckled here and there and recited my favorite lines aloud, but I couldn’t shake it. I wasn’t happy watching two of my favorite movies anymore.
Have you ever wished you could go to sleep and wake up in the future when everything is perfect? I used to go to sleep when I was in Jr. high-school wishing this every night. I thought that if I wished hard enough that one day I would wake up and everything would be the way I wanted it to be all the time. I was a stupid, stupid kid. I wanted you to know that. I thought the universe bended t my whim even though all the evidence suggested otherwise. I wanted reality to be just an illusion that I could somehow find the magic key to. I thought that if I learned the ancient practices of dead cultures that I could shape things in my dreams. But dreams are just lies we tell ourselves when we sleep. I have allowed them to shape much of my life. I did the spell backwards by mistake. My waking life has at times felt like a dream though (and a nightmare). I have tried to influence the physical through actualizing my nocturnal visions, to little or no success. .
Of course this is because you can’t do that. You have to get out there and make things happen. They don’t fall in your lap. Less of course your will is that strong. This love affair that I mourn came about through my sheer will. I wanted her so badly I manifested her. Years before I ever laid eyes on her I dreamed of her. Years before I was ever in a position of knowing her, I could see her in my. When I first met her I recognized her. It took a year of obsession and slight-of-hand magic to finally attract her attention. Even that is hazy now. The past in the rearview, I’m building a wall around that place in my heart with signs all over it warning: “Do Not Enter”. Sometimes we can’t see the forest for the trees. I feel like the sleeper awakes, but I didn’t understand that part in Dune until I read the books. As much as I love that David Lynch film, it didn’t quite do the books justice. But then again neither did the crappy Sci-Fy channel remakes. They were overseen by the original author’s children who hated the Lynch version. Sometimes I feel like Dune. A groundbreaking masterpiece that only a few really appreciate and no one can turn into a viable movie franchise.
I’m sure that this too shall pass and soon I will be living life as if none f this turmoil ever occurred. I don’t really want that though. I don’t want to sweep this under the bridge of things I have forgotten. I don’t want the last five years to fade and become a distant memory. The alcohol has washed away a lot of things that I wish I could still recall. I am being reminded of much of it these days now that I am back in the old hood. The benefactor of the couch I currently sleep on is fond of throwing in my face the horribleness of yesterday. I can’t blame her; I would cruelly do the same if the situation was reversed. Though, I can’t imagine anyone but me living this life although evidence suggest otherwise. Perhaps I am still in Jr. High dreaming. One day soon I will awaken and all things will be as they should be.