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Pretend It's Not Me
My Life Experience
This life has not been kind to me nor I to it, and unfortunatly it's been like this for a very long time. I've been working on my book, "Pretend It's Not Me" for what feels like years now and probably have 500 pages of material waiting to be cleaned up and edited. I guess I'm proud of it, proud I survived what I had to go through in order to write a book like that. I've put a lot of thought into what I would do once it was completed, how I would proceed, what I should do to promote it, to generate interest even though I've never written a book before and know nothing about the publishing world. I'd shit myself if I was sitting in front of an agent like the one Lauren Bacall played in Misery! But ya know what? I'll be fucked if I'm gonna start shopping it around at this point. I don't have the patience or the energy to give it the support it deserves. I just can't dredge up the sincerity anymore. It's important for me that I get as much of my story down as possible because living has become tentative, fractured and regrettable. One day at a time? Try one hour at a time. I've been hoping to find a place where I could let my truth flow without the hassle of censorship, without having to edit the only version of my life that matters to me anymore, my own. HELLO! Frankly, at this point I don't give a flying fuck if I'm the only one who reads my work. I need to get it down, if only to figure it out for myself. Maybe looking at it in it's totality will alter my perspective, will help me figure out who I am and why I'm here. I don't doubt we're all here for a purpose, this shit can't be random. Can you imagine dying and finding out that everything you went through in this life had no reason, that the years between birth and death weren't meant to be anything more than just that, the years between birth and death? I'd be PISSED! I'm pissed anyway, but if I found out I spent my life being pissed for no reason I'd be EXTRA pissed! It doesn't take much effort for me to imagine God sitting around in heaven with "the boys" throwing back a few beers impressing each other with the latest tricks they've been pulling on humanity! "oh, you shoulda seen it Jebedia, he was crawling around on the floor looking for crack in a white shag carpet and evertime he thought he found a piece he'd get all excited, and the second he put it in his pipe I'd turn it into popcorn or rock salt just before he lit it! Now c'mon, you can't tell me that's not funny bitch's!!" I've been trying to figure out what my purpose is since the day I discovered we all have one! This journey has been a long, dark relentless flippin nightmare, oy, let me tell you, and I'm still just as clueless about it today as I was when I first started trying to figure it out!. I grew up in pain, it's been such a massive part of everything I've ever felt, when the happiness or the contentment of a given day has worn off, the pain has always been right there, ready to take over. I remember being 20 and promising myself that if things didn't get better by the time I was 25 I would end it. The years leading up to my 25th year were rough, I was hurting but decided to give it one more go. 30 came and I couldn't hold on any longer, I couldn't see any light, couldn't find a way out. By then I was living in Costa Rica, drunk and stoned. The years between 30 and 32 were bearable only because I was using anything I could get my hands on, I had no discretion about what I took or how I took it. If it could be smoked, I'd smoke it. If it could be snorted, I'd snort it. If I could shoot it up, that's what I did. From the day I turned 30 I was in free fall, I slid into 31 and 32 aided by morphine and crack and liquor. Then the day came when I decided I'd had enough, I was tired, my days were beyond reason, my focus had become narrow, just do whatever you have to do to stop this pain. Dope is a band-aid solution, I know that and that's what I hate about it. Sooner or later the day would come when I'd wake up buzz-less and unimpressed. Angry that I had spent so much time and money trying not to feel. There would always be another morning, another day when I'd wake up against my will, sober and forced to feel things I didn't want to feel. When your trying to escape the pain of life temporary sobriety is a real drag, it's always in the way, right? It's relentless, it just keeps coming back over and over again, it never gets the message! So there I was, in Costa Rica, I was 32 years old, thousands of miles away from Canada, broke, homeless and hungry. That was the turning point. I was fed up. I had finally decided to cut my losses. I'd managed to come up with the $100 I needed to turn my plan into a reality. Costa Rica is known for it's low cost of living and there were times when it really came in handy! I'd go see a Dr for a Valium prescription, get it filled at the Farmacia, then go downtown, rent a room and buy the booze and all the dope I would need. I got into a cab and took my sorry ass to a hotel in San Jose where I had an appointment with God. We had some serious shit to discuss.
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