strange how the traffic to this page always seems to spike heavily when i write less here.

someone once made a comment about my “three readers” to me, but it’s amazing how many people actually visit this page. some more than others. some daily, some semi-daily. some occasionally. some… purely by accident. looking at the search strings that got some of you here amuses me on the odd occasions that i do it. “boredom” being the most popular for this destination, but i suppose that one is obvious.

so what brings you here? sit down. make yourself comfortable. this will be the third night in a row my tired eyes have seen 3am come and go. living in multiple timezones makes everything a little more fuzzy at this time of night. is it 3am here? do the mental math. second-nature now, like converting Celsius to Fahrenheit. Miles and Kilometers. every glance at the clock is a little exercise in basic algebra. i’d like to say it keeps my mind sharp, but it hardly makes a dent anymore. i’m feeling especially numb tonight. constant doses of antibiotics just sapping away any good feelings. whole body in a generic gray slump. misery. doctors orders. one wishes for sleep. denied by chemicals in the bloodstream. denied by sheer habit. glance. clock. math. rub the tired eyes. glance. clock. math.

sat in the darkest corner i could find of the club last night. leaned against two walls at once. nursed an expensive whiskey and water. ice cubes enough to make me shiver in my leather coat. watched the room for hours. generic house jukebox changed to live DJ. ‘House’ music and rap. beatbox and remix. later changed to ragga ‘jungle’. loud enough that i wonder if the crowd even noticed. changed DJs again. someone got creative or courageous. tried some vocal trance out on the crowd. volume to the point that it truly didn’t matter. intoxication, tidal chemical influence on the mob peaking. they’d have danced to anything. sea of badly dressed young men and overly dressed young women. sweat and pheromone slush in the air. cupped my hands around the cold glass and watched. reminded of other nights in other clubs. other small round tables in other dark corners.

trade denim for leather or vinyl. keep all the lame piercings and tattoos the same. who would know? lift the smoking ban, let in some clove cigarettes or some hash. change the music to something else. keep the volume the same. who would know? Mindless Self Indulgence or Three Drives on Vinyl. who would know? KMFDM or Style Unlimited. who’s listening anyway?

only the man in the corner watching the crowd.

i’m tired.

-T

so many of these begin their short lives as letters. or emails. that has been true for all the years that i’ve been putting words here. the vast majority of the time, these words start privately and end publicly. once in a very great while, they begin here and are moved to something more private. that’s a rare thing.

took a long walk tonight. it’s gotten colder here some nights. a precursor to autumn, showing just how short summer can be here. just a few short months between the beginning of things and the ending of things. wore my leather coat with the collar turned up against a slight night breeze that made it feel even cooler than it was. still water-stains on the leather from the last time it was cool enough to wear it. rainy morning in London in the spring. a few short months.

late nights, my thoughts always return to the same topics. it’s cyclical. over the years, it’s become almost meta, as if the cycle has repeated itself so many times that examining the topics has become it’s own meta-topic. thinking about thinking, which is itself meta. fractal thoughts. fragments of a hologram rose. every tiny piece somehow containing the entirety of the whole. holographic memory. very apt, for me. very apt indeed, because it’s always memory at the root of the problem.

if there is a problem at all. that’s part of the meta-meme, too. amusing, in a way.

a drink with dinner on an empty stomach. a vicodin after that before i fully realized the implications. another one after that because of those same implications. a long walk at night, blood full of hydrocodone and para-acetylaminophenol and caffeine and adrenaline. all my favourite drugs but one. the one i can’t have tonight.

i wrote about honesty a while ago, an entry that has long since been destroyed. thought a lot about honesty again tonight. about truth and what it really means to me. and to those around me. i’ve been honest. very very honest with myself and with others for the past few months. i’ve been taking stock of where that honesty has gotten me, aside from a clean conscience. am i happier now? is my life easier? have i made anyone else happier? has anything of import happened or not because of my honest? does it even matter? the answers are still a resounding ‘i don’t know’. i know i am here, now, because i was willing to be honest with others about things i felt. i know i am here, now, because i was honest with myself about a lot of things. and is ‘here, now’ where i want to be? i don’t know.

looked across the restaurant table today into a pair of clear green eyes and was asked the question, ‘what happened to you?’. found myself without words. without an answer. not even sure where to begin.

blood on the keyboard reminds me that despite doctors orders to keep my fingers active, i shouldn’t be typing this much. appropriate, somehow. this place has now taken even blood from me; something others have never managed. sweat and tears i will give up, but my blood is hard to get. slight smear on a few of my keys. my blood is always a little thicker than i expect.

write letters on the bedsheets in it. just a few. calls other dreams to the surface. 3:30am. the usual time for those thoughts and dreams. the usual choice to try to put them away again or to let them wander. i will let them wander for another night. i am bloodied and alone, but i am not willing to lie to myself about what it is i want. not tonight.

-T

i have a lot to say, but i’ve hurt my hand and typing is very very hard, so its all going on paper.

sorry.

i’ll be back when i’ve healed.

-T