The Knife, the Drop, and the Ocean Part Six Mature content No. 45 Published December 9th, 2017 7:35am pst read ( words) Past entries "Never before in my life had I stared into space so much and ponder all things negative. I could not help but feel as if the world no longer had a place for me, and the tears flowed freely -- as did the alcohol. The depressive nature of my being had been pushed further into the black and all possibility of listening or learning burned away quickly. Everything which had taken place throughout the previous several months began to become pointed. All of the pathways narrowed, and all of the options reduced to none. I had become a fraction of myself -- a frail wisp awaiting a strong breeze from any direction. The words in my head were being released and only a few remained... Pheno. Pento. Lead. Water. The fucking ocean. The water just sat there, within reach, and awaiting a decision. But the decision was not forthcoming. I could not figure a way to be calm, happy, or in control. Michelle and the feelings were still dictating any move. The only path I could see at the time was to run into the arms of the Brunette and ask her for some attention -- perhaps just to hold her. During the time period we enjoyed together, there was never a shortage of physical affection, and when things went awry (quite often) each of us knew of the importance a simple hug held. The Brunette was a clear thinker and a very genuine person. She seemed to understand everything, so I had to try. To her door, but to no avail. She was in the city, and that felt like the last place I should be. The decision was made to grab the steering wheel and head toward any place where no one knew me. But not Nevada. Heh. I needed to either drop the hammer and drop myself, or get the entire affair the fuck out of my head and carry myself into the future. Either was acceptable, but neither was easy. I just needed something to push everything away. I drove an entire tank of gas to its end and filled up again. The massive right turn south came quickly and I looked ahead and left the whole of the Bay Area in my exhaust. Good riddance for a while, and fuck off. Her beauty emanated from every fiber and outward toward the world No matter the scenery outside, images of Michelle and her vast beauty still floated around within me. I could not help but go over the events repeatedly, and the need to get out of the car and be near others grew from that difficulty. I stopped at the big windmill for a little while and sat at the bar. The place was nearly empty, and thankfully the staff remained scarce. Yes, the need to be around other people means they should be there, but that did not mean I wanted them everywhere. I just had to be within the fold for a little while before isolating in the car again. And two hours later I did exactly that. Down the road to Lost Hills. Full tank, and back to the interstate south at high speed. My destination was beginning to form, and I knew if the need to be near people grew once again I had plenty of options. And that place would also be comfortable. Eventually I wound my way past Tejon and up the hill. Another stop seemed a good idea, so I rolled into Valencia and its endless array of restaurants, bars, and tourists. Sliding into a family establishment near a massive theme park placed me within an atmosphere of positivity and hope. I looked around after ordering whiskey and began to see images which were the exact opposite of the goblet -- children of all ages, lots of bright colors, and groups filled with laughter and smiles. The feeling of belonging there was alien, but to be near all of the fun others were enjoying did help to a small degree. And in there -- inside my head and heart -- the ping pong ball bounced between fitting in with the rest or driving into the nearest bridge abutment. I still could not decide, but the wetness in my eyes told me it might be time to move on and away from prying eyes or words. Through the door and into the car I trotted yet again. The destination was still further south through the cities, but being so far from home felt good. I needed the separation nearly as much as I needed to be back inside Michelle's gorgeous company. Along the fucked up slow drive through Los Angeles, I realized that my phone had been buried within luggage for the entire drive. Naturally, the one person who I would have hoped to hear from was unavailable, so the feeling of being out of touch did not matter much. I was not even curious as to what may have taken place at home once I hit the road. Nothing could help, and I would not allow anyone inside my head any longer. So I drove along south toward the only comfort I could imagine. The South Coast. I knew I could melt into that bloated shopping district without issue, and there would be no one to bother me in any way. The populous in that area are so stuck upon themselves that if they do not know you already (from the club or whatever) you do not exist. Perfect, because I had no wish to exist for much longer. They would ignore me, and I them. The South Coast welcomed me nicely, and my first order of business was to secure some comfort for a few nights. I valet parked the car next to Scott's and inquired of the hostess as to availability. She smiled and told me that I arrived between the huge conventions and the place was sitting empty for the most part. As she spoke to me, her eyes sparkled, and I could not help but notice her beautifully sloping nose and sharp shoulders. I immediately began to spin downward due to the past few weeks' activities and where they left me emotionally. Before I could get the simplicity of the check-in process complete, she asked if I was alright. I responded quietly that I needed to be alone, snagged the room key and apologized for being elsewhere. She smiled and offered whatever I may have needed. I do not know how, but she managed to look upon me with understanding and compassion. How could that be possible? The woman had the face of an angel and a soft way of speaking which did not help me in the least. What the fuck happened to me? The dreamy proportions of extreme rarity I managed to get into the hotel room just in time to grab at the tissue and hit the bed for a few calming moments. The sight of the hostess was overwhelming due to her demeanor toward a wayward traveler with whom she was not familiar. I was floored by the beauty in that gesture and considering all of the rollercoaster rides in recent days, the effort required in causing me to fall into a pit was minimal. She did not know of the person in front of her, nor could she have had any idea that I was dangerously close to giving up on everything and everyone. The smallest difficulty set before me had the ability to kill me instantly. There was no good, no up, and no joy to be found. Being around others seemed like the only option, and then the woman looked at me and I immediately needed to fall right into her arms and cry. Jesus. By the time I arrived at that beautiful hotel I felt like nothing more than a small, injured bird facing a giant machine bent upon my destruction. After composing myself somewhat and freshening up, I decided to meander down to the hotel bar and become more physically comfortable. The plan after that was to crash again and see if the next morning would allow me to maintain myself around others. Not likely, but it was worth a shot. My only other option was to head out to Dana and drown into la mer. Fuck it anyway. At least I would not feel the need to fall all over every woman I saw. To the fucking bar I went. And I was the only patron there on a barstool. Nice. A few drinks in, and the bartender occasionally asked how I was doing. I politely told him that I was on a private getaway and his discretion would be appreciated. He shook my hand firmly and assured me that during my stay I would be virtually invisible. That type of service is fairly common in the business world -- mostly due to the gallivanting business traveler and his/her wandering nature. For me, that bar and staff fit the bill perfectly and I ran into few others throughout the next couple of hours. Plus... Thank Christ the bartender was not a female. Those were in good supply in the goblet, but seldom does the attraction pan out toward anything good. Ugh... And yikes. Male staff? Ideal. There were no issues nor worries about sitting there for a little while and enjoying the silence. As cozy and warm as that bar had become, the entirety of the outside world had become one huge swirling cloud of memories and longing. Not even the Brunette and the related uplifting thoughts which she had always drilled into me could pull me from the pit. Michelle turned out to be one of the most wondrous souls I could have imagined, and the end of our time together was destroying my insides and causing me to feel as if I needed to die at any second just to clear everything from my head and heart. Every few moments my feelings and mood would drop through the fucking floor, the bartender would glance in my direction with concern, and then the fall would pass for a little while. I could not understand how the depth began to take me over and disallow any normal functioning, nor could I reach for any handle to pull my sorry ass out of such a chasm. There just seemed to be no end to the up and down, and over time the exercise was beginning to leave me totally exhausted. Even when a few attractive females entered the bar and gestured hello, I felt the extreme need to hide my face and avoid inflicting my terrible situation upon another soul. God. Another drink, another concerned glance from the bartender, and I decided to sleep. Out the door and away before I fell further. And she never hesitated to enthrall And there in my bag -- next to the shaving kit -- the knife. Seconds of staring at the blood groove and I began to realize that everything could go away. All of the pain, fear, longing, and stabbing feelings in my chest could be wiped away, never to return. And then the impulse left me and I felt as if I could still find some comfort here and there. Alcohol, some decent atmosphere, a bit of conversation, scenery... Anything. The thought was maybe I could still enjoy enough to keep me out of the ground. And then the return of the tears and the need to die. Damn it all. Something had to be changed, and soon. But what? Just like in the street so many days before, and similar to the feeling outside Michelle's apartment on that terrible day... Back and forth and back and forth. Die. Live. Nothing can ever change. Good may come. Weak. Strong. There was no answer, and the lack of clarity was sending me into a tailspin. My mind would not calm and I found myself pacing around the room in the middle of the night, half in the fucking bag as always. The knife was there on the bed in its sheath, and in passing the blade over and over I began to twitch toward grabbing it. I stopped, began to shake, and pulled the Buck out of its leather home and set it on the desk. Back to pacing. Michelle... The Brunette, my family... Everything began to spin and I dashed to the balcony to stop it and feel the cool air. All at once I wanted to flop over the railing and down to the concrete of the garden below. Back into the room and away from the fall. Back to glancing at the knife awaiting my decision. And then back to the balcony. And then over to the bed. I simply had no exit other than to end myself and all of the thoughts which would not let up. My greatest need at that point was to feel her next to me, holding me, and providing that comfort which was so distant. Knowing she was gone from me had begun to leave me in a giant hole and without the strength to make any decision about living or dying. I ran back out to the railing and that sweet air to try and get out of such a wrenching situation. Flip and then flop and then flip again. The concrete called me a second time and I went back inside to see the blade awaiting my weakness. I could feel the cold sharpness despite my keeping a space between me and the end it could provide. And then more fear drove me outside. And that would be the last time I flopped. I steeled and forced myself to realize that there would always be the possibility of up, and I needed to know that. As difficult as it was to find anything positive while the weight of the planet was sitting upon my bruised heart, I had to maintain that position for as long as I could stand it. As I began to cry for the millionth time, I slowly slid myself to the deck and rolled over. At that point I felt more defeated and destroyed than any other time during my life. The options began to widen but I still knew any happiness would remain nonexistent for a time. I stayed there in the cool air, surrounded by stucco, and over and over the thoughts of Michelle swirled. She could not be next to me, however I felt her nonetheless. She would not allow me to harm myself, and once I conjured the strength to really know that again, I slowly drifted into sleep. God help me. Nope. I needed Michelle's coziness I awakened in the cold some hours later with a sharp need to get out of that downtrodden room and be near others. Unfortunately, the sun was not yet available so the bed seemed a good alternative. More sleep, with a somewhat calmer heart. My head had not been swimming quite like the previous night. Comfort was developing. Mid morning came around and I ventured back into the car in search of something to eat. And the South Coast had just the destination. With an enormous lounge, plush furnishings, and an endless menu, the Claim Jumper seemed appropriate for sliding in for a while. Long or short, the visit did not matter because I was still trying to think on my feet and could not decide upon many aspects of daily life. The idea of hauling down highway 55 at high speed and ramming the k-rails at the south end still was appealing, just as a quick walk off anything tall enough to get the job done. I figured that the longer I was able to remain around others, the better chance I had to seek out a way of living with the things in my head. And Michelle was at the top of the list. So, the South Coast was perfect for hours of thought and relaxation. And again the bartender was male, though a good portion of the staff was female. I did my best to sit tight and think things through, and the only way to accomplish any of it was to shut out the voices around me and keep my eyes off the girls. After sitting a while with a cocktail and salad, the television drew my interest and need for distraction. The bar slowly became more and more full, including a couple of very well-dressed women who took seats directly to my left. The occasional glance told me that they were there to enjoy the company and refreshments. I kept to myself for the most part, offering a comment here or there when asked about the menu. I was looked upon as if the whole of me was a product to be tested, so my comments soon came to an end. After several glasses of wine, the woman next to me turned from patron to predator. As lovely as she was sitting there in a cocktail dress and showing off flowing hair and precision nails upon long fingers, I began to feel the need to get the fuck out before anything took place. I knew that my exit would only prompt her to search for someone else. Out of the chair and toward the door I went, and then popped back next to her for a second. She turned, somewhat surprised, and I proceeded to tell her in a whisper that she was gorgeous, and I was very sorry to be called away. Her hand briefly on my cheek, a genuine smile, and I dashed. That was easy, but to sit there and stare a while longer would have been quite nice. Unfortunately, there was no possibility of spending time with another person due to my butchered feelings and unstable nature. That would have been completely unfair to anyone. After leaving the restaurant I decided to stroll around that huge mall and look at some things. I still had another two nights at the hotel and plenty of time to explore. During the walk I tried to reconcile all that had taken place throughout the past few weeks. The world looked so different after all of the trials with the Brunette and subsequent heavenly days with Michelle, and despite all of the effort in attempting to keep my mind in order and pointed toward moving forward, I could not easily put any of it aside and find clarity. Just so different. Others walking about pressed me to dreaming of how much I wished to be free of every thought and every negative impulse. Michelle's loving words and demeanor toward me had left all of the damaging considerations by the wayside for a while -- I could not harm myself while with her -- but the resulting situation with her out of the picture had left me with far too much time for regret and remorse. I had caused much emotional harm to others and left them behind without a word. With my head full of selfish and self-defeating ideas, those others were minus one intelligent soul and plus one massive issue. All of that added up to my near complete inability to see myself in any positive light. Years had passed without problems caused by me due to shoving everything deep down and into a dark hole. And then I flew the coop more than once and all of it was set ablaze within me. Everything came to the surface and my need to be within a huge fantasy became more appealing and more comfortable than I could have imagined. I dumped my entire life on the ground and ran like the wind. Those who cared for me were left to wonder. Nice. I walked, swirled, and continued to try and make sense of everything. All of the words, and still they fail Along the way my eyes darted about and took in the scenery of that huge mall. And then in front of me... A shape similar to Michelle. She was a gazelle, and the compound radii of her thighs began to tattoo themselves onto my brain. God, not at that time. I could not deal with another goddess-like image nor could I process it. I had reached my limit, but could not look away. She was human art of the highest level so I followed along for a bit. Back and forth, plus and minus. When she turned and paused, I needed to move away or say something, but nothing was there. My intellect had been reduced to the very core of that unending obsession. Everything began to point me out the door, so I took a long look, tapped her wrist, said hello, and turned around. I heard her say 'hi' as I trotted away at maximum speed. 'Hello?' Nope, I had to go. I wanted to swallow her whole and turn off my thoughts, however too many times had that endeavor left me crushed and working to feel like I simply would not survive. I left the mall, dropped into the Slipper, and hauled ass back to the hotel. Once there, I checked out and ran away from my enormous desires. Bristol, 55, then 5. Gone. Soon I was back near Tejon, refueled, and kept going. Cigarettes and coffee were my only companions, along with a sharp mental image of myself appreciating her thighs and then walking into the ocean. Again... God help me. I had become a basket case for the umpteenth time and had to keep myself in one piece to find solace. Fuck me. Highway... Just highway and oil derricks. And grass. And a waning fraction of a person with both hands on the wheel and thoughts mixed up like hell in a blender. Lost Hills again. I stopped to find a snack and wound up realizing that the night was approaching. That place is bereft of anything decent, so I turned east and ended up in a cozy inn near Wasco. Checking in was rather humorous, because I appeared somewhat flamboyant in a silk shirt and covered in jewelry. The girl at the desk could not have been over twenty years of age and looked at me as if she was standing in front of the devil himself. Heh. I said nothing unnecessary and walked out of the office toward my little room. Even the Slipper looked out of place among so many pickups. Once I regrouped, I went back to the office to ask her if there was anything in town or nearby which provided both food and alcohol. She told me about a cantina not far off the highway so I rolled there and proceeded to drown myself in margaritas. Naturally, whenever I combined booze and thoughts, things had a good chance of going awry. The cantina was little different from that mix, but the bartender helped. She looked at me and asked what I was running from or toward. That caught me a little off guard, but I could hardly blame her. I informed her that I was in the midst of a futile attempt to run from my own head, to which she replied, 'Yep. I can see it.' I began to realize that nothing was going to help me get away from anything at all. I told her that she had beautiful, dark eyes and a fascinating personality, and that was nearly the end of the evening. Her smile was real, and once again I had lifted someone slightly before running. I thanked her and we gently shook hands. Next to me was an older gentleman who looked at both of us as if he was seeing magic. Honestly, anyone may have reacted similarly. The bartender showed me her lovely smile once again and I made my way to the motel and some haphazard sleep. Morning arrived and I drove like the wind yet again. Along the nearly straight interstate, I began to formulate a plan for relocating myself near the ocean. The life I had left behind was still sitting on my shoulders and I needed to put some of that holy hell in order. The ideas floated around a while and eventually I calculated that my most important path would be to avoid anything which could flare the obsession and get myself physically organized, and in a place filled with calm. I had hoped some good could come of my efforts. Yes, hope. Unbelievable. Yes, all of that beauty... gone The drive was peaceful because I felt as if I was moving away from difficulties I failed to fall into, and toward something which could keep me alive. Rolling along with music blaring helped to maintain my stability and kept my mind focused upon the goal. Michelle popped in there from time to time and I could not help but fall a bit at each thought. She had become far too much for me to simply let slide into the past. That woman was a universe all her own. Jesus. I arrived at my previous home to gather a few things and contact the management where I was hoping to settle for a while. She invited me to secure everything via the Internet so I did that prior to heading toward the coast. During all of my logistical steps, the thought of the goblet being there and awaiting another escape started to wind its way into my formidable stockpile of needs. Over and over I had to push it away because the cost of dashing back there could have been enormous -- financially, and, more importantly, emotionally. The whole fucking scene would be one stratospheric dream of Michelle, and falling into that would likely have left me in the ground. And there is no doubt of that... She brought a sense of everything which cannot be compared to any other aspect of life, and it was something I could not deny. To move forward seemed a journey of which I could never be capable. Too much had taken place for any type of rise, and all of it placed in a line appeared as a pathway to hell. To the ocean I ventured, with just enough belongings to get a simple start. All the while during that drive from the valley, every single thought process was a haphazard melange of the Brunette, Michelle, death, that massive obsession, and the wondrous, fulfilling life I threw to the wind." 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The Knife, the Drop, and the Ocean Part Six Mature content No. 45 Published December 9th, 2017 7:35am pst read ( words) Past entries "Never before in my life had I stared into space so much and ponder all things negative. I could not help but feel as if the world no longer had a place for me, and the tears flowed freely -- as did the alcohol. The depressive nature of my being had been pushed further into the black and all possibility of listening or learning burned away quickly. Everything which had taken place throughout the previous several months began to become pointed. All of the pathways narrowed, and all of the options reduced to none. I had become a fraction of myself -- a frail wisp awaiting a strong breeze from any direction. The words in my head were being released and only a few remained... Pheno. Pento. Lead. Water. The fucking ocean. The water just sat there, within reach, and awaiting a decision. But the decision was not forthcoming. I could not figure a way to be calm, happy, or in control. Michelle and the feelings were still dictating any move. The only path I could see at the time was to run into the arms of the Brunette and ask her for some attention -- perhaps just to hold her. During the time period we enjoyed together, there was never a shortage of physical affection, and when things went awry (quite often) each of us knew of the importance a simple hug held. The Brunette was a clear thinker and a very genuine person. She seemed to understand everything, so I had to try. To her door, but to no avail. She was in the city, and that felt like the last place I should be. The decision was made to grab the steering wheel and head toward any place where no one knew me. But not Nevada. Heh. I needed to either drop the hammer and drop myself, or get the entire affair the fuck out of my head and carry myself into the future. Either was acceptable, but neither was easy. I just needed something to push everything away. I drove an entire tank of gas to its end and filled up again. The massive right turn south came quickly and I looked ahead and left the whole of the Bay Area in my exhaust. Good riddance for a while, and fuck off. Her beauty emanated from every fiber and outward toward the world No matter the scenery outside, images of Michelle and her vast beauty still floated around within me. I could not help but go over the events repeatedly, and the need to get out of the car and be near others grew from that difficulty. I stopped at the big windmill for a little while and sat at the bar. The place was nearly empty, and thankfully the staff remained scarce. Yes, the need to be around other people means they should be there, but that did not mean I wanted them everywhere. I just had to be within the fold for a little while before isolating in the car again. And two hours later I did exactly that. Down the road to Lost Hills. Full tank, and back to the interstate south at high speed. My destination was beginning to form, and I knew if the need to be near people grew once again I had plenty of options. And that place would also be comfortable. Eventually I wound my way past Tejon and up the hill. Another stop seemed a good idea, so I rolled into Valencia and its endless array of restaurants, bars, and tourists. Sliding into a family establishment near a massive theme park placed me within an atmosphere of positivity and hope. I looked around after ordering whiskey and began to see images which were the exact opposite of the goblet -- children of all ages, lots of bright colors, and groups filled with laughter and smiles. The feeling of belonging there was alien, but to be near all of the fun others were enjoying did help to a small degree. And in there -- inside my head and heart -- the ping pong ball bounced between fitting in with the rest or driving into the nearest bridge abutment. I still could not decide, but the wetness in my eyes told me it might be time to move on and away from prying eyes or words. Through the door and into the car I trotted yet again. The destination was still further south through the cities, but being so far from home felt good. I needed the separation nearly as much as I needed to be back inside Michelle's gorgeous company. Along the fucked up slow drive through Los Angeles, I realized that my phone had been buried within luggage for the entire drive. Naturally, the one person who I would have hoped to hear from was unavailable, so the feeling of being out of touch did not matter much. I was not even curious as to what may have taken place at home once I hit the road. Nothing could help, and I would not allow anyone inside my head any longer. So I drove along south toward the only comfort I could imagine. The South Coast. I knew I could melt into that bloated shopping district without issue, and there would be no one to bother me in any way. The populous in that area are so stuck upon themselves that if they do not know you already (from the club or whatever) you do not exist. Perfect, because I had no wish to exist for much longer. They would ignore me, and I them. The South Coast welcomed me nicely, and my first order of business was to secure some comfort for a few nights. I valet parked the car next to Scott's and inquired of the hostess as to availability. She smiled and told me that I arrived between the huge conventions and the place was sitting empty for the most part. As she spoke to me, her eyes sparkled, and I could not help but notice her beautifully sloping nose and sharp shoulders. I immediately began to spin downward due to the past few weeks' activities and where they left me emotionally. Before I could get the simplicity of the check-in process complete, she asked if I was alright. I responded quietly that I needed to be alone, snagged the room key and apologized for being elsewhere. She smiled and offered whatever I may have needed. I do not know how, but she managed to look upon me with understanding and compassion. How could that be possible? The woman had the face of an angel and a soft way of speaking which did not help me in the least. What the fuck happened to me? The dreamy proportions of extreme rarity I managed to get into the hotel room just in time to grab at the tissue and hit the bed for a few calming moments. The sight of the hostess was overwhelming due to her demeanor toward a wayward traveler with whom she was not familiar. I was floored by the beauty in that gesture and considering all of the rollercoaster rides in recent days, the effort required in causing me to fall into a pit was minimal. She did not know of the person in front of her, nor could she have had any idea that I was dangerously close to giving up on everything and everyone. The smallest difficulty set before me had the ability to kill me instantly. There was no good, no up, and no joy to be found. Being around others seemed like the only option, and then the woman looked at me and I immediately needed to fall right into her arms and cry. Jesus. By the time I arrived at that beautiful hotel I felt like nothing more than a small, injured bird facing a giant machine bent upon my destruction. After composing myself somewhat and freshening up, I decided to meander down to the hotel bar and become more physically comfortable. The plan after that was to crash again and see if the next morning would allow me to maintain myself around others. Not likely, but it was worth a shot. My only other option was to head out to Dana and drown into la mer. Fuck it anyway. At least I would not feel the need to fall all over every woman I saw. To the fucking bar I went. And I was the only patron there on a barstool. Nice. A few drinks in, and the bartender occasionally asked how I was doing. I politely told him that I was on a private getaway and his discretion would be appreciated. He shook my hand firmly and assured me that during my stay I would be virtually invisible. That type of service is fairly common in the business world -- mostly due to the gallivanting business traveler and his/her wandering nature. For me, that bar and staff fit the bill perfectly and I ran into few others throughout the next couple of hours. Plus... Thank Christ the bartender was not a female. Those were in good supply in the goblet, but seldom does the attraction pan out toward anything good. Ugh... And yikes. Male staff? Ideal. There were no issues nor worries about sitting there for a little while and enjoying the silence. As cozy and warm as that bar had become, the entirety of the outside world had become one huge swirling cloud of memories and longing. Not even the Brunette and the related uplifting thoughts which she had always drilled into me could pull me from the pit. Michelle turned out to be one of the most wondrous souls I could have imagined, and the end of our time together was destroying my insides and causing me to feel as if I needed to die at any second just to clear everything from my head and heart. Every few moments my feelings and mood would drop through the fucking floor, the bartender would glance in my direction with concern, and then the fall would pass for a little while. I could not understand how the depth began to take me over and disallow any normal functioning, nor could I reach for any handle to pull my sorry ass out of such a chasm. There just seemed to be no end to the up and down, and over time the exercise was beginning to leave me totally exhausted. Even when a few attractive females entered the bar and gestured hello, I felt the extreme need to hide my face and avoid inflicting my terrible situation upon another soul. God. Another drink, another concerned glance from the bartender, and I decided to sleep. Out the door and away before I fell further. And she never hesitated to enthrall And there in my bag -- next to the shaving kit -- the knife. Seconds of staring at the blood groove and I began to realize that everything could go away. All of the pain, fear, longing, and stabbing feelings in my chest could be wiped away, never to return. And then the impulse left me and I felt as if I could still find some comfort here and there. Alcohol, some decent atmosphere, a bit of conversation, scenery... Anything. The thought was maybe I could still enjoy enough to keep me out of the ground. And then the return of the tears and the need to die. Damn it all. Something had to be changed, and soon. But what? Just like in the street so many days before, and similar to the feeling outside Michelle's apartment on that terrible day... Back and forth and back and forth. Die. Live. Nothing can ever change. Good may come. Weak. Strong. There was no answer, and the lack of clarity was sending me into a tailspin. My mind would not calm and I found myself pacing around the room in the middle of the night, half in the fucking bag as always. The knife was there on the bed in its sheath, and in passing the blade over and over I began to twitch toward grabbing it. I stopped, began to shake, and pulled the Buck out of its leather home and set it on the desk. Back to pacing. Michelle... The Brunette, my family... Everything began to spin and I dashed to the balcony to stop it and feel the cool air. All at once I wanted to flop over the railing and down to the concrete of the garden below. Back into the room and away from the fall. Back to glancing at the knife awaiting my decision. And then back to the balcony. And then over to the bed. I simply had no exit other than to end myself and all of the thoughts which would not let up. My greatest need at that point was to feel her next to me, holding me, and providing that comfort which was so distant. Knowing she was gone from me had begun to leave me in a giant hole and without the strength to make any decision about living or dying. I ran back out to the railing and that sweet air to try and get out of such a wrenching situation. Flip and then flop and then flip again. The concrete called me a second time and I went back inside to see the blade awaiting my weakness. I could feel the cold sharpness despite my keeping a space between me and the end it could provide. And then more fear drove me outside. And that would be the last time I flopped. I steeled and forced myself to realize that there would always be the possibility of up, and I needed to know that. As difficult as it was to find anything positive while the weight of the planet was sitting upon my bruised heart, I had to maintain that position for as long as I could stand it. As I began to cry for the millionth time, I slowly slid myself to the deck and rolled over. At that point I felt more defeated and destroyed than any other time during my life. The options began to widen but I still knew any happiness would remain nonexistent for a time. I stayed there in the cool air, surrounded by stucco, and over and over the thoughts of Michelle swirled. She could not be next to me, however I felt her nonetheless. She would not allow me to harm myself, and once I conjured the strength to really know that again, I slowly drifted into sleep. God help me. Nope. I needed Michelle's coziness I awakened in the cold some hours later with a sharp need to get out of that downtrodden room and be near others. Unfortunately, the sun was not yet available so the bed seemed a good alternative. More sleep, with a somewhat calmer heart. My head had not been swimming quite like the previous night. Comfort was developing. Mid morning came around and I ventured back into the car in search of something to eat. And the South Coast had just the destination. With an enormous lounge, plush furnishings, and an endless menu, the Claim Jumper seemed appropriate for sliding in for a while. Long or short, the visit did not matter because I was still trying to think on my feet and could not decide upon many aspects of daily life. The idea of hauling down highway 55 at high speed and ramming the k-rails at the south end still was appealing, just as a quick walk off anything tall enough to get the job done. I figured that the longer I was able to remain around others, the better chance I had to seek out a way of living with the things in my head. And Michelle was at the top of the list. So, the South Coast was perfect for hours of thought and relaxation. And again the bartender was male, though a good portion of the staff was female. I did my best to sit tight and think things through, and the only way to accomplish any of it was to shut out the voices around me and keep my eyes off the girls. After sitting a while with a cocktail and salad, the television drew my interest and need for distraction. The bar slowly became more and more full, including a couple of very well-dressed women who took seats directly to my left. The occasional glance told me that they were there to enjoy the company and refreshments. I kept to myself for the most part, offering a comment here or there when asked about the menu. I was looked upon as if the whole of me was a product to be tested, so my comments soon came to an end. After several glasses of wine, the woman next to me turned from patron to predator. As lovely as she was sitting there in a cocktail dress and showing off flowing hair and precision nails upon long fingers, I began to feel the need to get the fuck out before anything took place. I knew that my exit would only prompt her to search for someone else. Out of the chair and toward the door I went, and then popped back next to her for a second. She turned, somewhat surprised, and I proceeded to tell her in a whisper that she was gorgeous, and I was very sorry to be called away. Her hand briefly on my cheek, a genuine smile, and I dashed. That was easy, but to sit there and stare a while longer would have been quite nice. Unfortunately, there was no possibility of spending time with another person due to my butchered feelings and unstable nature. That would have been completely unfair to anyone. After leaving the restaurant I decided to stroll around that huge mall and look at some things. I still had another two nights at the hotel and plenty of time to explore. During the walk I tried to reconcile all that had taken place throughout the past few weeks. The world looked so different after all of the trials with the Brunette and subsequent heavenly days with Michelle, and despite all of the effort in attempting to keep my mind in order and pointed toward moving forward, I could not easily put any of it aside and find clarity. Just so different. Others walking about pressed me to dreaming of how much I wished to be free of every thought and every negative impulse. Michelle's loving words and demeanor toward me had left all of the damaging considerations by the wayside for a while -- I could not harm myself while with her -- but the resulting situation with her out of the picture had left me with far too much time for regret and remorse. I had caused much emotional harm to others and left them behind without a word. With my head full of selfish and self-defeating ideas, those others were minus one intelligent soul and plus one massive issue. All of that added up to my near complete inability to see myself in any positive light. Years had passed without problems caused by me due to shoving everything deep down and into a dark hole. And then I flew the coop more than once and all of it was set ablaze within me. Everything came to the surface and my need to be within a huge fantasy became more appealing and more comfortable than I could have imagined. I dumped my entire life on the ground and ran like the wind. Those who cared for me were left to wonder. Nice. I walked, swirled, and continued to try and make sense of everything. All of the words, and still they fail Along the way my eyes darted about and took in the scenery of that huge mall. And then in front of me... A shape similar to Michelle. She was a gazelle, and the compound radii of her thighs began to tattoo themselves onto my brain. God, not at that time. I could not deal with another goddess-like image nor could I process it. I had reached my limit, but could not look away. She was human art of the highest level so I followed along for a bit. Back and forth, plus and minus. When she turned and paused, I needed to move away or say something, but nothing was there. My intellect had been reduced to the very core of that unending obsession. Everything began to point me out the door, so I took a long look, tapped her wrist, said hello, and turned around. I heard her say 'hi' as I trotted away at maximum speed. 'Hello?' Nope, I had to go. I wanted to swallow her whole and turn off my thoughts, however too many times had that endeavor left me crushed and working to feel like I simply would not survive. I left the mall, dropped into the Slipper, and hauled ass back to the hotel. Once there, I checked out and ran away from my enormous desires. Bristol, 55, then 5. Gone. Soon I was back near Tejon, refueled, and kept going. Cigarettes and coffee were my only companions, along with a sharp mental image of myself appreciating her thighs and then walking into the ocean. Again... God help me. I had become a basket case for the umpteenth time and had to keep myself in one piece to find solace. Fuck me. Highway... Just highway and oil derricks. And grass. And a waning fraction of a person with both hands on the wheel and thoughts mixed up like hell in a blender. Lost Hills again. I stopped to find a snack and wound up realizing that the night was approaching. That place is bereft of anything decent, so I turned east and ended up in a cozy inn near Wasco. Checking in was rather humorous, because I appeared somewhat flamboyant in a silk shirt and covered in jewelry. The girl at the desk could not have been over twenty years of age and looked at me as if she was standing in front of the devil himself. Heh. I said nothing unnecessary and walked out of the office toward my little room. Even the Slipper looked out of place among so many pickups. Once I regrouped, I went back to the office to ask her if there was anything in town or nearby which provided both food and alcohol. She told me about a cantina not far off the highway so I rolled there and proceeded to drown myself in margaritas. Naturally, whenever I combined booze and thoughts, things had a good chance of going awry. The cantina was little different from that mix, but the bartender helped. She looked at me and asked what I was running from or toward. That caught me a little off guard, but I could hardly blame her. I informed her that I was in the midst of a futile attempt to run from my own head, to which she replied, 'Yep. I can see it.' I began to realize that nothing was going to help me get away from anything at all. I told her that she had beautiful, dark eyes and a fascinating personality, and that was nearly the end of the evening. Her smile was real, and once again I had lifted someone slightly before running. I thanked her and we gently shook hands. Next to me was an older gentleman who looked at both of us as if he was seeing magic. Honestly, anyone may have reacted similarly. The bartender showed me her lovely smile once again and I made my way to the motel and some haphazard sleep. Morning arrived and I drove like the wind yet again. Along the nearly straight interstate, I began to formulate a plan for relocating myself near the ocean. The life I had left behind was still sitting on my shoulders and I needed to put some of that holy hell in order. The ideas floated around a while and eventually I calculated that my most important path would be to avoid anything which could flare the obsession and get myself physically organized, and in a place filled with calm. I had hoped some good could come of my efforts. Yes, hope. Unbelievable. Yes, all of that beauty... gone The drive was peaceful because I felt as if I was moving away from difficulties I failed to fall into, and toward something which could keep me alive. Rolling along with music blaring helped to maintain my stability and kept my mind focused upon the goal. Michelle popped in there from time to time and I could not help but fall a bit at each thought. She had become far too much for me to simply let slide into the past. That woman was a universe all her own. Jesus. I arrived at my previous home to gather a few things and contact the management where I was hoping to settle for a while. She invited me to secure everything via the Internet so I did that prior to heading toward the coast. During all of my logistical steps, the thought of the goblet being there and awaiting another escape started to wind its way into my formidable stockpile of needs. Over and over I had to push it away because the cost of dashing back there could have been enormous -- financially, and, more importantly, emotionally. The whole fucking scene would be one stratospheric dream of Michelle, and falling into that would likely have left me in the ground. And there is no doubt of that... She brought a sense of everything which cannot be compared to any other aspect of life, and it was something I could not deny. To move forward seemed a journey of which I could never be capable. Too much had taken place for any type of rise, and all of it placed in a line appeared as a pathway to hell. To the ocean I ventured, with just enough belongings to get a simple start. All the while during that drive from the valley, every single thought process was a haphazard melange of the Brunette, Michelle, death, that massive obsession, and the wondrous, fulfilling life I threw to the wind."
The Knife, the Drop, and the Ocean
Part Six
Mature content No. 45 Published December 9th, 2017 7:35am pst read ( words) Past entries
"Never before in my life had I stared into space so much and ponder all things negative. I could not help but feel as if the world no longer had a place for me, and the tears flowed freely -- as did the alcohol. The depressive nature of my being had been pushed further into the black and all possibility of listening or learning burned away quickly. Everything which had taken place throughout the previous several months began to become pointed. All of the pathways narrowed, and all of the options reduced to none. I had become a fraction of myself -- a frail wisp awaiting a strong breeze from any direction. The words in my head were being released and only a few remained... Pheno. Pento. Lead. Water. The fucking ocean. The water just sat there, within reach, and awaiting a decision. But the decision was not forthcoming. I could not figure a way to be calm, happy, or in control. Michelle and the feelings were still dictating any move. The only path I could see at the time was to run into the arms of the Brunette and ask her for some attention -- perhaps just to hold her. During the time period we enjoyed together, there was never a shortage of physical affection, and when things went awry (quite often) each of us knew of the importance a simple hug held. The Brunette was a clear thinker and a very genuine person. She seemed to understand everything, so I had to try. To her door, but to no avail. She was in the city, and that felt like the last place I should be. The decision was made to grab the steering wheel and head toward any place where no one knew me. But not Nevada. Heh. I needed to either drop the hammer and drop myself, or get the entire affair the fuck out of my head and carry myself into the future. Either was acceptable, but neither was easy. I just needed something to push everything away. I drove an entire tank of gas to its end and filled up again. The massive right turn south came quickly and I looked ahead and left the whole of the Bay Area in my exhaust. Good riddance for a while, and fuck off.
Her beauty emanated from every fiber and outward toward the world
No matter the scenery outside, images of Michelle and her vast beauty still floated around within me. I could not help but go over the events repeatedly, and the need to get out of the car and be near others grew from that difficulty. I stopped at the big windmill for a little while and sat at the bar. The place was nearly empty, and thankfully the staff remained scarce. Yes, the need to be around other people means they should be there, but that did not mean I wanted them everywhere. I just had to be within the fold for a little while before isolating in the car again. And two hours later I did exactly that. Down the road to Lost Hills. Full tank, and back to the interstate south at high speed. My destination was beginning to form, and I knew if the need to be near people grew once again I had plenty of options. And that place would also be comfortable. Eventually I wound my way past Tejon and up the hill. Another stop seemed a good idea, so I rolled into Valencia and its endless array of restaurants, bars, and tourists. Sliding into a family establishment near a massive theme park placed me within an atmosphere of positivity and hope. I looked around after ordering whiskey and began to see images which were the exact opposite of the goblet -- children of all ages, lots of bright colors, and groups filled with laughter and smiles. The feeling of belonging there was alien, but to be near all of the fun others were enjoying did help to a small degree. And in there -- inside my head and heart -- the ping pong ball bounced between fitting in with the rest or driving into the nearest bridge abutment. I still could not decide, but the wetness in my eyes told me it might be time to move on and away from prying eyes or words. Through the door and into the car I trotted yet again. The destination was still further south through the cities, but being so far from home felt good. I needed the separation nearly as much as I needed to be back inside Michelle's gorgeous company. Along the fucked up slow drive through Los Angeles, I realized that my phone had been buried within luggage for the entire drive. Naturally, the one person who I would have hoped to hear from was unavailable, so the feeling of being out of touch did not matter much. I was not even curious as to what may have taken place at home once I hit the road. Nothing could help, and I would not allow anyone inside my head any longer. So I drove along south toward the only comfort I could imagine. The South Coast. I knew I could melt into that bloated shopping district without issue, and there would be no one to bother me in any way. The populous in that area are so stuck upon themselves that if they do not know you already (from the club or whatever) you do not exist. Perfect, because I had no wish to exist for much longer. They would ignore me, and I them. The South Coast welcomed me nicely, and my first order of business was to secure some comfort for a few nights. I valet parked the car next to Scott's and inquired of the hostess as to availability. She smiled and told me that I arrived between the huge conventions and the place was sitting empty for the most part. As she spoke to me, her eyes sparkled, and I could not help but notice her beautifully sloping nose and sharp shoulders. I immediately began to spin downward due to the past few weeks' activities and where they left me emotionally. Before I could get the simplicity of the check-in process complete, she asked if I was alright. I responded quietly that I needed to be alone, snagged the room key and apologized for being elsewhere. She smiled and offered whatever I may have needed. I do not know how, but she managed to look upon me with understanding and compassion. How could that be possible? The woman had the face of an angel and a soft way of speaking which did not help me in the least. What the fuck happened to me?
The dreamy proportions of extreme rarity
I managed to get into the hotel room just in time to grab at the tissue and hit the bed for a few calming moments. The sight of the hostess was overwhelming due to her demeanor toward a wayward traveler with whom she was not familiar. I was floored by the beauty in that gesture and considering all of the rollercoaster rides in recent days, the effort required in causing me to fall into a pit was minimal. She did not know of the person in front of her, nor could she have had any idea that I was dangerously close to giving up on everything and everyone. The smallest difficulty set before me had the ability to kill me instantly. There was no good, no up, and no joy to be found. Being around others seemed like the only option, and then the woman looked at me and I immediately needed to fall right into her arms and cry. Jesus. By the time I arrived at that beautiful hotel I felt like nothing more than a small, injured bird facing a giant machine bent upon my destruction. After composing myself somewhat and freshening up, I decided to meander down to the hotel bar and become more physically comfortable. The plan after that was to crash again and see if the next morning would allow me to maintain myself around others. Not likely, but it was worth a shot. My only other option was to head out to Dana and drown into la mer. Fuck it anyway. At least I would not feel the need to fall all over every woman I saw. To the fucking bar I went. And I was the only patron there on a barstool. Nice. A few drinks in, and the bartender occasionally asked how I was doing. I politely told him that I was on a private getaway and his discretion would be appreciated. He shook my hand firmly and assured me that during my stay I would be virtually invisible. That type of service is fairly common in the business world -- mostly due to the gallivanting business traveler and his/her wandering nature. For me, that bar and staff fit the bill perfectly and I ran into few others throughout the next couple of hours. Plus... Thank Christ the bartender was not a female. Those were in good supply in the goblet, but seldom does the attraction pan out toward anything good. Ugh... And yikes. Male staff? Ideal. There were no issues nor worries about sitting there for a little while and enjoying the silence. As cozy and warm as that bar had become, the entirety of the outside world had become one huge swirling cloud of memories and longing. Not even the Brunette and the related uplifting thoughts which she had always drilled into me could pull me from the pit. Michelle turned out to be one of the most wondrous souls I could have imagined, and the end of our time together was destroying my insides and causing me to feel as if I needed to die at any second just to clear everything from my head and heart. Every few moments my feelings and mood would drop through the fucking floor, the bartender would glance in my direction with concern, and then the fall would pass for a little while. I could not understand how the depth began to take me over and disallow any normal functioning, nor could I reach for any handle to pull my sorry ass out of such a chasm. There just seemed to be no end to the up and down, and over time the exercise was beginning to leave me totally exhausted. Even when a few attractive females entered the bar and gestured hello, I felt the extreme need to hide my face and avoid inflicting my terrible situation upon another soul. God. Another drink, another concerned glance from the bartender, and I decided to sleep. Out the door and away before I fell further.
And she never hesitated to enthrall
And there in my bag -- next to the shaving kit -- the knife. Seconds of staring at the blood groove and I began to realize that everything could go away. All of the pain, fear, longing, and stabbing feelings in my chest could be wiped away, never to return. And then the impulse left me and I felt as if I could still find some comfort here and there. Alcohol, some decent atmosphere, a bit of conversation, scenery... Anything. The thought was maybe I could still enjoy enough to keep me out of the ground. And then the return of the tears and the need to die. Damn it all. Something had to be changed, and soon. But what? Just like in the street so many days before, and similar to the feeling outside Michelle's apartment on that terrible day... Back and forth and back and forth. Die. Live. Nothing can ever change. Good may come. Weak. Strong. There was no answer, and the lack of clarity was sending me into a tailspin. My mind would not calm and I found myself pacing around the room in the middle of the night, half in the fucking bag as always. The knife was there on the bed in its sheath, and in passing the blade over and over I began to twitch toward grabbing it. I stopped, began to shake, and pulled the Buck out of its leather home and set it on the desk. Back to pacing. Michelle... The Brunette, my family... Everything began to spin and I dashed to the balcony to stop it and feel the cool air. All at once I wanted to flop over the railing and down to the concrete of the garden below. Back into the room and away from the fall. Back to glancing at the knife awaiting my decision. And then back to the balcony. And then over to the bed. I simply had no exit other than to end myself and all of the thoughts which would not let up. My greatest need at that point was to feel her next to me, holding me, and providing that comfort which was so distant. Knowing she was gone from me had begun to leave me in a giant hole and without the strength to make any decision about living or dying. I ran back out to the railing and that sweet air to try and get out of such a wrenching situation. Flip and then flop and then flip again. The concrete called me a second time and I went back inside to see the blade awaiting my weakness. I could feel the cold sharpness despite my keeping a space between me and the end it could provide. And then more fear drove me outside. And that would be the last time I flopped. I steeled and forced myself to realize that there would always be the possibility of up, and I needed to know that. As difficult as it was to find anything positive while the weight of the planet was sitting upon my bruised heart, I had to maintain that position for as long as I could stand it. As I began to cry for the millionth time, I slowly slid myself to the deck and rolled over. At that point I felt more defeated and destroyed than any other time during my life. The options began to widen but I still knew any happiness would remain nonexistent for a time. I stayed there in the cool air, surrounded by stucco, and over and over the thoughts of Michelle swirled. She could not be next to me, however I felt her nonetheless. She would not allow me to harm myself, and once I conjured the strength to really know that again, I slowly drifted into sleep. God help me. Nope.
I needed Michelle's coziness
I awakened in the cold some hours later with a sharp need to get out of that downtrodden room and be near others. Unfortunately, the sun was not yet available so the bed seemed a good alternative. More sleep, with a somewhat calmer heart. My head had not been swimming quite like the previous night. Comfort was developing. Mid morning came around and I ventured back into the car in search of something to eat. And the South Coast had just the destination. With an enormous lounge, plush furnishings, and an endless menu, the Claim Jumper seemed appropriate for sliding in for a while. Long or short, the visit did not matter because I was still trying to think on my feet and could not decide upon many aspects of daily life. The idea of hauling down highway 55 at high speed and ramming the k-rails at the south end still was appealing, just as a quick walk off anything tall enough to get the job done. I figured that the longer I was able to remain around others, the better chance I had to seek out a way of living with the things in my head. And Michelle was at the top of the list. So, the South Coast was perfect for hours of thought and relaxation. And again the bartender was male, though a good portion of the staff was female. I did my best to sit tight and think things through, and the only way to accomplish any of it was to shut out the voices around me and keep my eyes off the girls. After sitting a while with a cocktail and salad, the television drew my interest and need for distraction. The bar slowly became more and more full, including a couple of very well-dressed women who took seats directly to my left. The occasional glance told me that they were there to enjoy the company and refreshments. I kept to myself for the most part, offering a comment here or there when asked about the menu. I was looked upon as if the whole of me was a product to be tested, so my comments soon came to an end. After several glasses of wine, the woman next to me turned from patron to predator. As lovely as she was sitting there in a cocktail dress and showing off flowing hair and precision nails upon long fingers, I began to feel the need to get the fuck out before anything took place. I knew that my exit would only prompt her to search for someone else. Out of the chair and toward the door I went, and then popped back next to her for a second. She turned, somewhat surprised, and I proceeded to tell her in a whisper that she was gorgeous, and I was very sorry to be called away. Her hand briefly on my cheek, a genuine smile, and I dashed. That was easy, but to sit there and stare a while longer would have been quite nice. Unfortunately, there was no possibility of spending time with another person due to my butchered feelings and unstable nature. That would have been completely unfair to anyone. After leaving the restaurant I decided to stroll around that huge mall and look at some things. I still had another two nights at the hotel and plenty of time to explore. During the walk I tried to reconcile all that had taken place throughout the past few weeks. The world looked so different after all of the trials with the Brunette and subsequent heavenly days with Michelle, and despite all of the effort in attempting to keep my mind in order and pointed toward moving forward, I could not easily put any of it aside and find clarity. Just so different. Others walking about pressed me to dreaming of how much I wished to be free of every thought and every negative impulse. Michelle's loving words and demeanor toward me had left all of the damaging considerations by the wayside for a while -- I could not harm myself while with her -- but the resulting situation with her out of the picture had left me with far too much time for regret and remorse. I had caused much emotional harm to others and left them behind without a word. With my head full of selfish and self-defeating ideas, those others were minus one intelligent soul and plus one massive issue. All of that added up to my near complete inability to see myself in any positive light. Years had passed without problems caused by me due to shoving everything deep down and into a dark hole. And then I flew the coop more than once and all of it was set ablaze within me. Everything came to the surface and my need to be within a huge fantasy became more appealing and more comfortable than I could have imagined. I dumped my entire life on the ground and ran like the wind. Those who cared for me were left to wonder. Nice. I walked, swirled, and continued to try and make sense of everything.
All of the words, and still they fail
Along the way my eyes darted about and took in the scenery of that huge mall. And then in front of me... A shape similar to Michelle. She was a gazelle, and the compound radii of her thighs began to tattoo themselves onto my brain. God, not at that time. I could not deal with another goddess-like image nor could I process it. I had reached my limit, but could not look away. She was human art of the highest level so I followed along for a bit. Back and forth, plus and minus. When she turned and paused, I needed to move away or say something, but nothing was there. My intellect had been reduced to the very core of that unending obsession. Everything began to point me out the door, so I took a long look, tapped her wrist, said hello, and turned around. I heard her say 'hi' as I trotted away at maximum speed. 'Hello?' Nope, I had to go. I wanted to swallow her whole and turn off my thoughts, however too many times had that endeavor left me crushed and working to feel like I simply would not survive. I left the mall, dropped into the Slipper, and hauled ass back to the hotel. Once there, I checked out and ran away from my enormous desires. Bristol, 55, then 5. Gone. Soon I was back near Tejon, refueled, and kept going. Cigarettes and coffee were my only companions, along with a sharp mental image of myself appreciating her thighs and then walking into the ocean. Again... God help me. I had become a basket case for the umpteenth time and had to keep myself in one piece to find solace. Fuck me. Highway... Just highway and oil derricks. And grass. And a waning fraction of a person with both hands on the wheel and thoughts mixed up like hell in a blender. Lost Hills again. I stopped to find a snack and wound up realizing that the night was approaching. That place is bereft of anything decent, so I turned east and ended up in a cozy inn near Wasco. Checking in was rather humorous, because I appeared somewhat flamboyant in a silk shirt and covered in jewelry. The girl at the desk could not have been over twenty years of age and looked at me as if she was standing in front of the devil himself. Heh. I said nothing unnecessary and walked out of the office toward my little room. Even the Slipper looked out of place among so many pickups. Once I regrouped, I went back to the office to ask her if there was anything in town or nearby which provided both food and alcohol. She told me about a cantina not far off the highway so I rolled there and proceeded to drown myself in margaritas. Naturally, whenever I combined booze and thoughts, things had a good chance of going awry. The cantina was little different from that mix, but the bartender helped. She looked at me and asked what I was running from or toward. That caught me a little off guard, but I could hardly blame her. I informed her that I was in the midst of a futile attempt to run from my own head, to which she replied, 'Yep. I can see it.' I began to realize that nothing was going to help me get away from anything at all. I told her that she had beautiful, dark eyes and a fascinating personality, and that was nearly the end of the evening. Her smile was real, and once again I had lifted someone slightly before running. I thanked her and we gently shook hands. Next to me was an older gentleman who looked at both of us as if he was seeing magic. Honestly, anyone may have reacted similarly. The bartender showed me her lovely smile once again and I made my way to the motel and some haphazard sleep. Morning arrived and I drove like the wind yet again. Along the nearly straight interstate, I began to formulate a plan for relocating myself near the ocean. The life I had left behind was still sitting on my shoulders and I needed to put some of that holy hell in order. The ideas floated around a while and eventually I calculated that my most important path would be to avoid anything which could flare the obsession and get myself physically organized, and in a place filled with calm. I had hoped some good could come of my efforts. Yes, hope. Unbelievable.
Yes, all of that beauty... gone
The drive was peaceful because I felt as if I was moving away from difficulties I failed to fall into, and toward something which could keep me alive. Rolling along with music blaring helped to maintain my stability and kept my mind focused upon the goal. Michelle popped in there from time to time and I could not help but fall a bit at each thought. She had become far too much for me to simply let slide into the past. That woman was a universe all her own. Jesus. I arrived at my previous home to gather a few things and contact the management where I was hoping to settle for a while. She invited me to secure everything via the Internet so I did that prior to heading toward the coast. During all of my logistical steps, the thought of the goblet being there and awaiting another escape started to wind its way into my formidable stockpile of needs. Over and over I had to push it away because the cost of dashing back there could have been enormous -- financially, and, more importantly, emotionally. The whole fucking scene would be one stratospheric dream of Michelle, and falling into that would likely have left me in the ground. And there is no doubt of that... She brought a sense of everything which cannot be compared to any other aspect of life, and it was something I could not deny. To move forward seemed a journey of which I could never be capable. Too much had taken place for any type of rise, and all of it placed in a line appeared as a pathway to hell. To the ocean I ventured, with just enough belongings to get a simple start. All the while during that drive from the valley, every single thought process was a haphazard melange of the Brunette, Michelle, death, that massive obsession, and the wondrous, fulfilling life I threw to the wind."
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