I will kindly ask you to forgive the sappiness of this entry. But yes, what I am about to offer is true and fit for this journal. While my aim is to be truthful, I understand that the purity of beauty and the honesty of wholesomeness (for some reason) can sting, like an old antiseptic to a cut or a scrape on the knee – sort of like what happened when we were sent to the nurse back when we were kids.
So far, there has been a common theme with my thoughts, such as “Do not go gentle,” as in, do not give in, or do not quit, don’t submit or give away your ground.
I find this theme to be simple, yet I understand the complications of the ideas which surround the times when I give up most or had the least amount of hope.
Do not go gentle. . .
That’s me, right now.
II can’t quit.
Do you understand me?
I can’t give in.
I just can’t.
I can see a thousand reasons why things could go wrong. I could list a countless supply of stress or wrongs or insults or the impositions against me. I say this is life.
I can list my problems the same as anyone else can.
I can account for the ideas of impending doom, which I suspect or predict and expect because I see it around me on a daily basis.
I can do this
Or –
I can live and refuse to give up or go gently
It’s my turn to fight back
It’s my turn to save my own life – and not just for you or for anyone else
But for me –
It’s my turn now
I can take a stand. I can draw a line and say “That’s it!”
This is my spot.
You can do the same thing too. If you want.
I can claim my life back (or reclaim it) if the terms fit.
I can change my mind. I can change my direction.
I can stop and retrace my steps to see wherever it was that I lost myself.
And then I can say, “Hey, I got it now,” and change my direction from here on in.
The theme for this journal and my list of items are all simple, calculative and accumulative.
Instead of surrendering to the sad or dank submission, I am yearning and working to improve my life. But I also want to advance on my dreams. I want to gain more ground.
(Don’t you?)
I want to grow beyond my plateau and reach my next level of awareness.
I want to better myself to reach my best daily levels so that I can be at my best possible potential on a daily basis.
I want to change my life so that my bad days are never so tragic again. And ah, I want more.
I want to remove my old terms and be free from my old terminologies which limited me.
My list of items will be long yet bold and better than ever before.
I am not looking to create a bucket list for myself which is only compiled of things to do or places to see.
No, this list has a bigger and deeper meaning to me.
“I want to do the things.”
I want to dance.
I want to go to an empty field with the most special person in the world and tell her, “See this place? This is where I was when I prayed to meet you.”
I have wanted to show you this place for all of my life.
This is my spirit ground.
This is where I was born.
I want to show her where I was when The Old Man died.
This is where I was when I let go of the heavy things and the dangerous things.
This is where I addressed the unwanted touches and the hurts that no one else ever knew about.
I want her to look around and see me weep.
I want to be as uncovered and vulnerable as possible because if I am to be free this way, then it would only be right that she is the only person to see me this way.
I want to do this openly and without any decoration because this field is the place where so much happened.
This place is the symbol to me. The hill on this field marks the place of my rebirth.
I was here when I was young, sick and still working out the cobwebs and the weavings of the opiate and the cocaine gods, which almost killed me; yet, they always told me they’d leave the light on for me – so I could find their darkness – and make life worse.
This was the first place that I ever dared to open up about me in an honest sense.
Also, as a person with a regrettable youth, I can say that this place was part of my best memories.
I lived here and I died here but more than anything; I was reborn here too.
And should this happen, then I can say my full cycle has been complete and that yes, the universe allowed me to avenge my past
(So I can be free).
When the time comes for me to cross this item off my list, I want to revisit this place, almost like revisiting the spiritual nature of an old burial ground – which it is to me.
I want to go here – so that I can let go and look up at the heavens of my youth and say, “Thank you.”
“She is even more beautiful than I possibly dreamed.”
Her hair is everywhere and her reminders are signs to me that say, “Don’t give up, son.”
“Trust me . . . She’s waiting for you!”
I want to answer the old questions of mine, which are as follows:
Will I ever find peace?
Will I ever find happiness?
Will I ever look in the mirror and be at peace with what I see?
Or –
When I look back at what my life was and when I consider all the changes that I wanted to make within myself, my aim is to look back and say that regardless of what happened and no matter what took place, I want to know that no matter what happened – I stood back up.
I stayed on the path. I walked the line no matter how much my legs hurt and no matter how tired I was, I never quit. I never gave in.
I never died or went down that path again.
I never gave away my smile because above all things, the day “they” steal my smile is the same day that “they” stole me.
I use the term “they” because although vague, I used this word as an umbrella term because there are many who fit in this category.
But wait . . . Wasn’t it you who taught me, “To hell with them!”
Who gives a shit what anyone thinks?
I want to strike a line through these items and smile.
I want to look back at the predictions or the odds that were against me (or us) and then, while standing in my best defiance, I want to raise my chin to the sky and once more, I’ll say “thank you!”
She is more inspiring than I ever imagined.
I want to make things . . .
I want to create things . . .
I want to build memories, each and every day . . .
This is part of my daily bucket list.
I want to secure my place in the stars and solidify my place in this universe. But more, I want to make this trip worthwhile.
I don’t want to go gently. I don’t want to drift away in my sadness or sink to the everlasting bottomless notion that this is it – this is life and that’s all.
My burst for life is simple.
It would seem that I have lived in a cocoon for too long.
It would seem that I looked at my life as a witness instead of an active component and an interactive member of this thing we call the world.
But I’m done with that.
I want to understand the actual and visceral feeling of the word “Zest!”
I want to have a lust for life.
I want to know what it means to be alive.
I want to find myself and be connected and have my spot and special corner of the world, which is everything to me, which is my home, which is where I belong and I want all of this as soon as humanly possible.
I want the world and I want it now because out of every fear that I have in my life, my biggest fear is that on the day that she says, “I do,” and finally, when I found the right groove; and at the moment when I sign on the dotted line for my first big contract, and at the day of my closing and the signing for my dream house, just minutes before I walk through the door, my end comes for me – so, yes.
Time is of the essence.
This is critical and crucial and yes, I plan to enjoy myself now because, of course, it’s later than we think.
Thank you Mr. Jonathan David Larson (February 4, 1960 – January 25, 1996)
There’s only us . . .
I remember this being sung in the play RENT.
This was Larson’s play.
And it’s true . . .
There’s only us.
It’s also true when they sang, “No day but today!”
It is also true that love comes in all shapes and sizes, creeds, color, designs and flavors.
I never dared to look outside of my own normal world to understand or accept or appreciate the culture of the world around me.
Larson died right before the opening night of his play.
I don’t want this to be me; hence, the urgency of my list which I am composing now.
God . . .
I want to be young again.
I swear, I wouldn’t waste it this time.
I’d have gone the way I always wished . . .
But there’s no day but today.
(Right, Mr. Larson?)
Or maybe I am young and I just don’t know it yet.
Maybe I’m a kid again – and I know I can be at times
(especially when I’m with you.)
There’s only us
No day but today.
You have been a candle to me. My love. My heart. My hope and my dreams.
I was always blind (without you).
I know that my life cannot be lived on wishes.
Hence, this is my list.
And hence, no one can stop me from this.
(Except for me)
I will not go down.
I will not go gentle.
I will stand up now and ask for more.
I will scream this from the top of my lungs and if I need to,
I will climb the tallest tower and the highest mountain –
but only for this.
I have lived my life for more than 51 years now.
And it’s time.
Here’s my list.
Here’s my entry for today, which is finished now,
which means I’ve already started my day with an accomplishment.
So, I can strike a line through this and move on to the next –
If only I could see you now, your face and your smile . . .
If only I could tell you this and everything and more . . .
If only I could redefine the world and redefine the sky
and realign myself to mark the stars
which you see when you look up at the sky at night . . .
If only I could strike a line through this
and make you mine . . .
I have no list without you.
Then again, I have no life without you
because you are me and I am you.
We are the cosmic collision of Cupid’s laugh –
We are the wildlife nature of two kids, crazy, in the backseat of a car –
Man, what a laugh we have (together)
Risking the world
hoping to God that no one walks in
(or stops us).
Let the world watch, I say.
My heart exists, but only in yours,
which is the beat of my life,
and before the sunrise
I am the moon and you . . .
You are the glitter of galaxies which will mesmerize me for millenniums
And more –
My breathe exists only in yours
And you . . .
You are a breeze to me –
You are the air that lifts my hair when the wind picks up.
And when the tides move in
and the dry sands take the waters from the ocean
and find themselves quenched of thirst
or satisfied
you are the cycle to me.
You are the in and out and the rise and fall,
like the ocean’s breath,
which represents the heartbeat
and the breathing chest of Mother Earth’s body.
I want the colorized version of a black and white life
which is something I dreamt of from and still do
since my youth – and as in my dreams,
as for the love I sought,
which escaped me through the sheets of my dreams,
I want to wake up and say no – It’s not a dream . . .
It’s real
And someday – Varadero
The beach and Cuba –
I wonder if this will be as pretty as it seemed in pictures
Then again, you are more perfect to me than any picture
You are more than I prayed for on that mountain yet
that’s where I met you –
long before I saw you walk through the door
God . . .
I wish I was young again
But I’m not.
I’m only a kid (still)
And just waiting for the Gods to align our stars –
So we can dance the rumba
together
The Written Addiction 