Following you, you walk ahead of me Don’t need no one to tell me the things that my eyes can see. You look at your cars & you play all your games & I follow you round that’s the way that God made me.
And I want you to protect me but I know you won’t So I change my mind to make it all okay. Cause I know what you love most is just to be alone Because you love space so I fade away.
You don’t like my dog, you want me to be tan But when I reach for you, you feel like a man. And I watch you so careful, you stare at your beer And you talk about where you think you’ll go fishing next year.
And I want you to protect me but you think that’s gay Because you love space so I fade away.
Touch your face your nose your hair I love you. Wrap my arms around. Turn your head you pull your herb out. Then the light go down.
Gotta be silent, I gotta not to scream Cause said that loud noises can trigger your PTSD. So I ride in your car as the Tom Petty plays And you sing at the top of your lungs how you’re free falling.
And I wish you would protect me but I know you wont So I write a song to make it all okay. And my friends all tell me that I would be better alone Cause they hear me crying every other day. Fade Away.
Why do people say hell is red and fiery? When really it is gray and icy with each person held alone under a cold metal bell. Pumped full of pain medication, they breath, feel no pain and think thoughts of their own well being. They are glad the bell protects them. They have 100,000 dollars plus a gold brick and they are glad no one will steal it. They know no one can lift the heavy bell to find them. They have won the game of life. Every day tasty meals are dropped into the bell. Anything they choose. They eat with relish. Winning! When they relieve themselves, the byproducts magically disappear. Hell is sanitary. People never cry there. They think they are smiling and maybe they are. Who knows? No one can see them.
Pain is when you go to Heaven. Looking down, you see everything you missed. St Fanci compared entering heaven to having both your legs sawed off with a rusty blade. Pain is the price of admission.
Stabbed in the chest by remorse. You never saw the beauty of everything until it was too late. And now in heaven you’re face to face with everything you wanted to avoid.
The people you least want to see are your greeting committee, standing there waiting in white robes. Those you wanted to impress stand behind you, noticing how you’ve shit your white pants.
Everyone you ghosted, neglected, abandoned, wait for you there with arms outstretched. They hug you and the memories of how you hurt them return. The clarity is excruciating because in heaven there are no clouds, fog or shadows.
And why did you do it? Why were you such an asshole?
Because there was some wound you didn’t want to feel and now it is probed with a million forceps and scalpels. Your mind explodes in an infinite sun of pain. In heaven there are no pain killers.
I finally got this poster I really wanted. It means so much to me I just don’t know what or why.
What is the relevance of this? I don’t know. In life, I am hanging in there. I got a job as a phone psychic and felt I was really in my element. Then I got fired. I was keeping people on the line for an average of 22 minutes rather than 35 minutes like they wanted. There is a bell that rings at 20 minutes and you’re sposed to keep people on for a while after that, because the rates get jacked up. But the callers want to hang up once they hear the bell so they don’t end up with a huge bill.
My psychic hotline name was Isabel Harlon. I’m gonna start my own psychic reading business now.
So money is hard.
And love is hard too because I don’t understand it. I feel like a retard in math class. A bunch of squiggles on the board and I have no idea what anything means. I was good at math but could never understand it which drove me nuts. I couldn’t figure out what numbers WERE. What the fuck is a one? A zero? Are they things themselves or ways of seeing things? The more I thought about it, the less sense it made.
Slippers in her new cage. I am cage training her so she will be calm when I leave the house. To my surprise, she loves it!
Sometimes I read books about love and it makes things worse because there are always more and more things you aren’t supposed to do because they will emasculate men. Words you aren’t supposed to say- like can would but. Tenses you aren’t supposed to use. If you follow the rules he will love you forever! But if you can’t…. well, no one to blame but yourself for what happens next.
And I don’t want to emasculate anyone. Rip off their dick and leave them with a bloody stump. But following all these rules feels impossible, especially when one of the rules is to be yourself. And you are supposed to be vulnerable and show your emotions, the problem is there’s only one emotion you are supposed to feel- pleased. But the more bound up I feel the harder this mild & flavorless state is to achieve.
Somewhere I must find the strength to take a solemn vow that I won’t abandon myself for love anymore. Because I love romance so much. But romance comes from being yourself and feeling the chemical reaction of self touching the world. Romance comes from the beauty of your own emotions welling up to surprise you. If men need you to be completely colorless and drained of life just to be in their presence then what is the point? Money? Or just avoiding a wound- the infinite pain of being abandoned? Love is one of the bells of hell. Blocking the pain while keeping you dead inside.
I need to find the strength to choose myself but I don’t know how. I don’t feel that strength anywhere.
Slippers at an open mic. Until I train her to be okay at home, I have to take her everywhere.The face Slippers makes when she wants a snack.
Did you know your Heart has a friend who follows him through life with only one goal- to protect? This friend is called The Heart Protector.
When you get heart broken or betrayed The Heart Protector can sink into depression. Where did he go wrong? How did he let his friend down?
Maybe he learns something, makes sense of his mistakes & goes back to work.
Or maybe he’s not sure what he did wrong. He moves into a state of hyper vigilance to ensure this never happens again. He builds new walls thick and crusty. The Heart lives inside these walls & starts to be deprived of light.
The Heart Protector builds walls in many ways. He may become paranoid & carry a magnifying glass looking for tiny red flags. He may become cynical & tell himself Love doesn’t exist. He may even reach the point of believing that Knights & Unicorns never walked the earth.
He can make you critical. Pointing out flaws in anyone who gets close. He can make you queasy at the thought of one day walking hand and hand with someone wearing matching pajamas.
He gives you reasons to reject people before they reject you. He fills your legs with adrenaline and tells you to run. Run to the river and drown yourself. He has a million ways of protecting his friend.
Recently my Heart Protector has been too tight & its hard to sing. I can’t catch my breath. I don’t want to go out and see people. I do it anyway but a part of me stays inside. I don’t want to write songs because there’s nothing to say. And no one to hear me.
I don’t know what I am supposed to have learned from my experiences or what I did wrong. I don’t know how to not let the same thing happen again. The Heart Protector is in a state of confusion. What to do? What to do?
So like the genius I am I’ve been trying to learn songs to make other people like me. My friend Arthur plays Sweet Home Alabama with me and Country Roads take me home. We play a gig which requires carrying 500 pounds of equipment for miles with the help of a grocery cart, setting up, playing for two hours, taking it down & carrying it back home. We make about 3 dollars each. I’m a bit worried about survival.
I can only hope popularity will help me survive. I want to reflect the culture back to itself so people will like me. Confederate flags are popular here. So are guns, knives, dicks, motorcycles, alcohol, drugs and nature.
Downtown Charleston West VirginiaA West Virginia Birthday cake. Do you see those two round cakes above it? It turns out they were boob cakes and I ate a slice when offered having no idea what I was eating. I am still trying to come to terms with this.The view from a West Virginia bar. If you combined this pic with one of a man driving 100 mph off a cliff in a motorized easy chair while high on mushrooms it would pretty much sum up the area.Giving a redneck hello to a guy(?) in a bar. My Yankee friends always assume the people down here are close minded. They don’t understand they are weirder than fuck.Burning a red candle in a desperate attempt to stave off the cold. The mug is resting on a tin of chewing tobacco.I finally had to decorate my bedroom because it was feeling too much like a prison cell. The theme is Friends. I am now expecting Dinosaurs and Elephants to come into my life.
Look around you now you see so many new horizons Fallen far into a circle sky of blue. With his body on you like a mountain falls and rises And his mouth become the river rolling through.
But look again- there’s a star that always rises Flying high over an ocean filled with blue. And will you swear cause I heard them say A day will come when he returns for you.
With the shadows falling how his hair curls like an injun And the sweat is burning paths upon his face. But you dread when this will end to leave you in suspension Walking circles in a dark and foreign place.
But look again- there’s a star that always rises Flying high over an ocean filled with blue. And will you swear cause I heard them say A day will come when he returns for you.
Please don’t hurt me. Say you won’t hurt me. Please don’t no matter what I do.
Will you say you won’t hurt me? Never desert me? Although I break you black and blue?
Could you climb up the hill? Could you climb it at night? To the air where it’s higher than stars? That’s where you’ll find a world that’s ours.
But look again- there’s a star that always rises Flying high over an ocean filled with blue. And will you swear that you love me cause A day will come when he returns for you.
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This song was partially inspired by this shirt which made me feel so calm and controlled….. an evening librarian who quietly hums while filing books alone.
But as you can see from the background, the feeling of control was only a dream. And one washing shrank the sleeves to halfway up my arms, transferring me from library to insane asylum.
