lately i’ve been thinking about how much i want to go to massage school, and maybe try & open up something similar to working class acupuncture in portland, or, but do it here in pittsburgh. that would involve lots of money (way less than most massage schools, but still, at least 5 g’s) , a two-year commitment to a school i am skeptical of, keeping the faith that my limp wrists will not die on me completely, and a very long commitment to pittsburgh. it’s something i think is really important, & something i really want to do, provided i can find some co-conspirators. i feel like the reason why i haven’t done more cool shit with my life yet is because i lack people that i can work well with who want similar things. you know? even little shit like traveling i almost never do, and i don’t really know why.
something else, totally unrelated, that i want is more friends who were raised by crazy drunk families who aren’t crazy drunk messes themselves. i want to talk about the very real sense of abandonment you can have when yr trying to sober up, like how you can feel that you’ve failed yr family by not being a total mess. when you know you’re fucking lucky to not have that gene that makes you ruin your whole goddamn life, but at the same time, you can tell they resent you, and that they don’t understand that you aren’t like them. & there is a cameraderie in their drunkenness that you’re left out of.
like, the last two times i stayed with my fam for an extended period of time (winter & summer ’07) i was encouraged to drink until i passed out, i never got yelled at for lazing about the house when i had a hangover or drinking until i puked. but there were several times when shit hit the fan when i a) cooked vegetables b) spent hours writing c) cut my hair. like, what the fuck, right? but then i thought about it more and i realized that in their own fucked up way, they want me to be a part of their world. & it saddens them that i’m not. & in their own weird way they’re trying to include me.
i don’t really have anyone to talk to about this; most of my friends who are from alcoholic homes are either drunk-ass messes themselves, or else i don’t really get to talk to them anymore. and i’m trying to sober up lately, because my body just can’t take anymore abuse, and it’s not terribly hard usually, but it’s bringing up all this weird shit. i drank a little last night and i woke up at 6am in a panic searching for my birth certificate. what?
on a wholly different note, i also want to go west again, really badly. i also want to visit ray in baltimore & see the american visionary art museum, and i want to see chicago and minneapolis for the first time because everyone keeps saying that i’ll like them, and i want to go back to the desert even though i don’t really know anyone there.
there is this withered bowl of vegetables that i cooked last saturday. i ate the whole skilletful, except for one mouthful. potatoes, thyme, onions, beans. kale&tomatoes fresh from the garden. it was delicious. but i just can’t eat that last mouthful, and i can’t throw it away, either.