i was too late, i had to make the usual last minute purchases that almost two weeks of travel require. i raced past the bookstore without even thinking, “fuck!” until i’d been home for an hour. but, there’s this wonderful thing that might save my sanity and it’s a small kindle app on my laptop. so i’ve purchased the recommended book. currently i’m browsing other books that might help me before i dive in. i should be packing, but i’ve never been less excited about anything in my life. any diversion, however small, is so very welcome.
it’s probably the best way to own a book about toxic parents, when you will be with them in a toxic place, as a secret file on a machine. i don’t think a good old fashioned paper sack book cover would be safe enough. i can imagine the fallout so clearly, because it would not be anything new. so it was a good screw up on my part today, i’ll have that to read and ponder privately and i’ll have hope, if it offers any, that i can undo and explain why i am so twisted up and soured at my age. i don’t remember being strong anymore, but i was. the last year has taken the few things i had left so quickly, so silently that i don’t know how to even retrace my steps now. maybe that’s the point of all of this. to lose inventory completely now and start again, really small like the child that i still am.
hi other readers. i know that in the attention span of most bloggers that i’ve hypothetically died or found sunnier skies to stare out into and away from my life. both couldn’t be less true, but i had more of the truth come true than anyone could have planned for in the circumstances that i was in and forced to be thankful for. i’m leaving for the mountains again in what feels like a showdown from an old western in atmosphere. i have a good bit of will to live as i write this tonight. i have no idea what i’ll have when i get there and while i am trapped in forced seclusion from the world and into constant contact with a family who i am in the poorest position so far in my life. i’ll be in a place where people kill and die each year, that survives without police or hospitals, and is bordered by the san juan mountains where people disappear, go off the grid and succumb to nature. most popular, save fishing up there, is typically suicide so my heart and mind will remain elsewhere somehow. they may spend visits here, catching up to an echo. they may be too devastated to write and saving their core energy for getting out of bed, i don’t know. if the worst thing that happens is having a gun pointed at my head, if it isn’t fired, maybe i really can begin again thankful instead of rotten with venom and haunted by the ruin of my life.
what i know for certain is that this will be my last trip up there, they’ve promised me that. so i hope to see the familiar sights with that in mind. smell the pine for one last time. go in my grandfathers shed and smell the poisons and chemicals. sit on the porch and cry like a thousand times before. i don’t think there is any place on earth that i hate more, but i’ll soak it up hard this time so that i never forget the spoiling of time, the hurt that never changed and the agelessness of each return where i’m made to feel 16 again. if the plan was to ever make me appreciate that place they should have starved me of it so i might have craved the taste. my drunken grandfather’s grabbing, my grandmother’s blind eyes, my mother’s feral drinking borne from her own hate for her own life and my father’s escapism turned into dependance, dementia and total isolation in his sacred place that’s now near the tv and nowhere near outside. and let’s not forget the places i learned to hide never knowing if or when he’s gonna hit ya, cry or now in his late days, die.. the legacy of lies that could only survive 53 years of the most stubborn marriage. do you want my ticket yet, aren’t i making it sound like paradise?
so i guess it’s time to just say bye for now and we’ll see, won’t we? yes, we will because i’ll be back to write.