i am an addict. i am a low down, no good, have to make sure people aren't looking over my shoudler type of guy. i haven't lived clean since i was five years old. i remember the moments of destruction from my early life. i can recall with the errant poundings of fists on walls early memories of hiding the stolen, lying, cheating, sexual deviance. i started early. there is little i can do now about what i have done, what i have killed, who i have touched, the fingers of fire and forests of flame.
now, with that said, i have known that i was a low down, no good, have to make sure no one is standing behind me type of guy since i was five too. i think my age of innocence ended the first time i saw a fight over a bottle of maple syrup, the first time i saw a death threat via shotgun, the first time i saw boots that didn't belong beside my parent's bed. i don't blame anyone for this. if i do, i blame myself, second on the list would be me again, if we get to number three we might start to consider outsiders but probably not. i think you get the idea.
so at the ripe age of 5 i started my life as a sinner. and i am damn good at it. i won't tell you some of the things i have done because i am ashamed of them. there are things i have done which i have told to one or two people which i will only tell to those people because i am ashamed. there are things that will not get told, at least not now.
as with most things though there must be some redeeming quality to me. you must be thinking to yourself "how does this som'itch have any friends" - not to mention that i have, for a few years now, been in a very committed relationship. well, lemme' tell you.
every night, in the warm embrace of silence, when the troubles of the day begin to creep in on me as i shut my eyes to go to sleep i pray. i pray for everything i've got. i am thankful for the P.o.S. car i have, and i am thankful for my two wonderful mutts, and i say my thank yous for my girlfriend A. and my family, and i say my thank yous for my friends. i even say thanks for the horrid nerve disorder i have because i gets my attention so.
and then i say my sorries, i don't spend a whole lot of time on them, i don't have a lot of time for sorries. i've got more time for trying to be a better man. and i don't mean that in the i'm not gonna swear, not gonna get hurt, not gonna hurt someone else sorta fashion, i mean that in the be a better man - there's a place for me somewhere if i will find it and there's a voice for me me if i will hear it and there's glory for me if i will seek it sort of way. the road to eldorado sort of way. an apology don't hold water if it tastes like tumbleweeds.
after sayin thanks and sayin sorry i mainly just wait. i sometimes hold my breath or just let myself be held, i guess the idea isn't to try real hard, the process isn't about perfection or repittion. in fact it's not really a process at all, if it starts to get stale i throw some new stock in it, if there isn't trouble or new stock already on the horizon - there normally always is.
furthermore, i don't hide myself away. i stand in the middle of the street now. sure there are some secrets about me, some things you will not know. the friends i have get to be so because they too are desperate men. desperation dose funny things to us, it makes us dogs, each and every one. it unites us as sinners and as the saved. we know we are ruined, and in our mutual ruination, through our diseases and addictions, drinks and haymakers, we fight our way through this life.
so what am i worth? a few dusty old books, some rotted out veins, and burnt out nerves... a land locked pirate who is afraid of the people he works for. i am worth a damn when the going gets tough, i can eat ramen noodles 38 days in a row, add another 20 days if ya mix in bologna and mayo sandwiches. i am good in a pinch, better in a grind, best when a bet has been made.
unfortunately, as some clean living folks may say, i have to learn how to live out this life as prim and proper as i can. i say rattlesnakes to that. i am gonna do my best to live. i figure down on my luck a few hundred times ain't that bad, hell i've gotten pretty used to it. so kids grab yer gasoline and an empty bottle of scotch. an old sock will do, a rusty match too and we'll have a riot or two. when in the warm embrace of silence, pray, and in the warm embrace of bodies do what bodies do.
2 comments:
When it comes down to it. This is more church to me than anything that I could go to on a Sunday morning. Knowing that I'm a desperate sinner, and that I have a brother that understands that, and still loves me, and still gets that I'm also trying to be a better man. That is the real deal. I raise my cup to you. Fuck I raise my eyes to you and look right in yours, because there aren't a whole hell of a lot of people ready to meet that gaze head to head.
We are something. Who knows what that is, but I know that God smiles sometimes at it. And that is the best I can hope for.
amen and amen. it's church friday night listening to d. playing pirate folk punk in a run down old cow town that doesn't realize it's on the iron lung. there is a promised land though i don't know where it is i know the one who promised it and that is good enough right now. you know him too, and damn if it hurts cuz i know it does and i know it will and i'm not sure if it stops hurting - ever - but there is hope beyond the light horizon.
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