billybillybilly

"My giant goes with me wherever I go."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson



...whether that's the bathroom floor of Liquor Lyle's or the Uptown Bar. Whether that's the library or work or the eyes of a new flirt. Wether it's a film or a town or a book or a shower. My giant goes with me wherever I go. Anywhere. Everywhere.

A song that used to go through my head everyday follows, part of it at least. The song is aptly titled NYC. It's by my favorite new band, Interpol. They deserve your love.

i have seven faces,
thought i knew which one to wear...
i'm sick of spending these lonely nights training myself not to care

subway, is a porno.
pavements they are a mess.
i know you've supported me for a long time...
somehow, i'm not impressed

but new york is... (got to be some more change in my life)
new york is...

So, first things second, the binge I've been on since January 5th is effectively over. Not that I'm done drinking, but I've got a lot of issues to sort out with it. I've got to decipher whether or not I can be more responsible about this. An earlier conversation (and let's face it, we all knew it was coming) put it right up in my face. Not that I haven't thought about it all thousands of times, not that I'm not constantly worried about myself, my relationships, or what comes next a thousand times, but yeah...

Everyday, and I mean that: every. single. day. I want to throw my life out on paper. I want to toss every sin and every fault and every mistake out on paper as penance for the things I've done. My intention in all of this is to face my problems flat out, head on, full speed, arms out, fuck all. As such...

(I'm about to be more open with whoever might read this than I ever have been. There are four, maybe five people in the entire world other than those who were involved who know the first part, not a single person I've ever talked to knows the second part.)

Interesting Jim fact(s):

My first sexual experiences (I think it was three [four?]) were with one of my best friends around the age of seven. I want to say seven, but I guess I'm not entirely sure. He was about six months younger than I was. He weighed about fifty pounds more.

A part of my life I'd completely blocked off until only a few months ago, when details of the previous paragraph re-entered my consciousness, is that I was also taken advantage of by another friend, an older boy, every Wednesday afternoon for nearly an entire school year while waiting for our parents to finish work.

I barely remember any of it. Blocked it out I guess. Didn't even know I was capable of doing that. The one thing I remember is that slightly before, or perhaps slightly after one of those meetings, we were sitting together in a concrete tube of some kind, and I realized how much power I actually had in that situation. That conceivably, I could crush him. That the information I had could crush him. I never said a word of it. Not to anyone. This is the first time in my life I've ever told anyone.

There was one point where I took a queue from these people, and I repeated it with a friend of mine. I don't remember why I did that. For now, I'm leaving out the details.

Imagine a demon on a treadmill. Imagine a closet door swinging open and piles of dust and bones falling at your feet.

That's how I'm feeling right now.

I'm not sick of the thoughts, or the ideas or implications and I'm not even sick of how it may play out in my life.

But, I'm sick of blaming myself for these things.

Sick.