Dear Journal,
It’s been forever and a day since I last sat down and let this machine transform my random synapses, blackouts, premonitions and paranoia into sterile binary data for the moon men of the future to enjoy when I’m dead.
I took some time off from the LA Times; more like a sabbatical with a one of half months of unpaid time to go hunting for my soul. I got in my car and drove. Drove and drove and drove to what was possibly nowhere. For the most part it was a good purge; stupidly I put my relationship on cryostasis, hoping it would defrost and dissolve for me. She’s still here, right where I left her, waiting for me. What can I say, I’m just a magnet for nonsense, piddly-winks and unfulfilled desires.
On my Gulliver’s travels I stopped in a half past decent pub with the usual mediocre food and marooned, shipwrecked personnel abiding to my every beckoning call. The poison was tasty and generous though, I’ll give them that. None-the-less, there was a song the half-past hip DJ in the corner spun, whose lyrics caught the eye of my ear.
“It was yesterday I flew away, and capsized these bitter thoughts of you”
I love that fucking line.
I caught myself saying “Fuck yeah!” in my head as I took a sip of my drink. Totally and utterly relating those words to my meager interpretation of my life. The sadness in his voice sounded like the genius of my tweaked out hero from history, Cobain, when he sung an acoustic version of Pennyroyal Tea.
Rest in peace you loon.
My dreams are still vivid, painted in blown out high contrast pastel colors, where the ambient sound is playing in fast forward on a shitty boom-box. Like when I’m awake, I’m never in my dreams; I’m just watching, and running like an olympic sprinter to the next destination, all day and all night. When it’s time to catch my breath, I know it’s time to wake up. I think though, the answers are starting to come to me. Everything I do is a random puzzle that I should be re-orienting to finally get my golden ticket home. The notes in my handwriting that I don’t remember, my stalker, Ivy’s poison and encounters with those who are just like me are all becoming clear.
I just need more time. I just need to be patient, and learn to breathe; so I can navigate these Stygian waters once again.