the edge - alone with molina

I've never been so close to the edge before.

today was interesting. i won't get into the events of the day as that'll digress. perhaps it's all the beer. things are incredibly bleak. i feel numb to my problems. i think it's the beer.

i haven't even had much in terms of drunkenness. Perhaps 8 or 9 in the span of 8 hours. well, maybe more in succession with a break in the middle, a walk, another beer incognito on the walk and another 2 when we got back. i don't remember. i don't care.

    this is all that helps aside from that now. the alcohol. i'm not an alcoholic. no really. i'm aware of what it is. i don't rely on it to survive. i rely on it to get me through right now though. right NOW. right now, which is all the time lately. but it won't be forever. hopefully. i don't know. it gets worse

       we watched an episode of horance and pete when we got back and ended listening to molina songs. i just fell sideways on this couch i live and closed my eyes and let my mind wander to those dark places i wish i was. because they're better than here. but because i can only think of them, because they're merely thoughts, they are dark places now. song after song after song. i refuse to move and lie there eyes closed until he left. and i was alone, with molina. 

       what come's after... hold on magnolia...these many 8 plus mini epics i can't recall. pretty eyes for a snake... at leas the dark. just be simple. "You said you only wanted friends for long enough to get rid of them. you found the kind you knew would only kill you, so you surrounded yourself with them." whatthefuckkk. what the actual fuck. "heaven needed a place to put all the shit." Yes. 

        now i'm alone here typing with molina and it won't stop and the drunk won't stop until i sleep thank god. then i get up and it will be monday. the drunks only last friday's to monday mornings. i'm ok with that. i don't know how much longer this will last. i miss my best friend i lost last month. that's what i miss right now. it was given to me, then taken away. fuck molina. until today i haven't listened much in the last week. it's too hard. it's so fucking hard. it reminds me of her too much. he is associated with the events now. the songs ohia: magnolia e Comp album (confusing i know) is all i have. it's amazing and painful more than anything to listen to right now. actually i've listened to hold on magnolia a bit this week. but i can't listen to anything else. mainly just be simple. too much pain. 

       but as lay here with molina with my eyes shut, i said to myself i was more ok with dying in that moment than i ever have been. i don't know. i hope those feelings don't grow as time moves. but they might. 

   it must be the beer. here comes monday.

What I'm listening to now...

There are few songs that can tear me up...

"She even cries in her sleep, I've heard her Many times before. I never had a girl who loved me Half as much as this girl loves me She's real emotional"

stale cigarettes

I love the smell of stale cigarettes. Let me clarify.

       When I go to a particular friend's house, he smokes cigarettes he rolls himself. It's very badass. He usually smokes outside which is fine, we go out and sit on his porch. It's a place and release I don't really get anywhere else. I don't see him often, but when I do we just hang, sit around, shoot the shit. Lately he's simply catching me up on everything that's happened in the last 3-4 months it's been since we've seen each other. Yes, one of those. I consider him my best friend, but sometimes, mainly because i'm a horrible friend, we don't see each other too often, but when we do, it's like nothing's ever happened etc etc all that happy crap. But instead, things have changed, just not between us. 

       Anyway, He smokes pot in his room in various forms, lights incense, sometimes smokes in the house if it's cold. Either way, we end up in his room for hours, and when I go home, I wake up the next morning usually in the same clothes, (minus a shirt or something) and smell that beautiful scent. The smell not of freshly smoked cigarettes, but stale ones. It reminds me of my grandmother's on my dad's side when i was younger and she was alive, and it reminds me of friend's houses. His place, and one or two others where they will smoke. 

         I'm wearing the same pants I did yesterday. They smell like it. It's got a quality around it. I'm not sure what it is. But I enjoy it. I don't think I'll ever smoke, who knows though. But that smell is quite something. 

      Where is Monday. 

alcohol and mondays

I've run out of alcohol. what a shame. No money either. Trying to sell things to make up. Mostly for the money to recoup losses for bills etc. But have $20 here and there would be nice for booze. 

 I've been spending this warm day in a basement. Away from all light. I go up and realize how much warmer it is outside than it is down here. it's freezing down here. I despise the weekends now. Work keeps my mind busy. The weekends also remind me of what I could be doing, or used to do. I don't do anything anymore and pray for Monday. 

Just finished watching 13 reasons why. Unexpectedly surprised by the series. Going into it, I had my thoughts about how it'd go. Typical high school drama with a lot of cliches and pretty looking people and typical plot lines. Not the case.

      The story was intense, the cinematography, the acting, choices in the set up of it all was excellent.

There are a few things though that few people on the planet watching would appreciate. The end of the episode where Clay's in the shower. They play Elliott Smith's version of "Thirteen", a song written by Big Star. The meaning of the song itself is meaningful, the use of anything Big Star is a sign, to me that these writers know what they're doing if they're into THAT kind of music. Using Elliott's version is similar, knowing him you know more than the average bear. 

            The end of another episode, Hannah quotes Bukowski, which I'm currently reading and for the last 6 months is one of the dwindling reasons I get through my days. He makes me feel it's ok for your life to be shit. She quotes his epitaph as the only one worth a damn. "Don't try". The only problem I have with this, which is a big one, is that it's taken out of context. To me, his "Don't Try" was for his writing. I believe I'm a bit off on this as he had a pretty relaxed life, but I think in it's essence, and with  reading correspondence with colleagues, he was referring to his writing. So the show took it way out of context to serve the story. That being said, quoting Bukowski was the second "YESSS" moment I had watching. One of the "Nobody else knows how awesome it was putting that in." 

      The third is the last episode and the use of an Angel Olson song "Windows". I discovered her last year and own her 3 records on Vinyl. The second I heard her voice I immediately recognized and flipped. Great artist and use of the song. They used quite a bit of it too. 

   Intense series. I'm glad I got through it.

Back to Bukowski. 

Homosexuals

I had this thought on my way back today from the cemetery. I am ok with everything. Almost. If something happens TO me, physically. I can handle it with the utmost finesse. It's when it happens and I'm not physically affected where it gets to me. A guy, kissing me. I would be un-phased. Fuck, who cares? 

      I imagined a guy kissing me unsolicited in a bar. (which I do not frequent) Most would be appalled, enraged, emasculated. Me? Who cares. Would I enjoy it? nope. I'm not one for guys. I'm attracted to ladies myself, but why get worked up over that? Why? What's the real reason? Some woman going to think you're gay and you'll be forever lonely? No. Why? Who cares? The Fuck. 

        If a guy kissed me I'd smile. he got what he wanted. Doesn't phase me. I suppose in the right  mind. The worst would be an annoyance of lack of personal space. But the act... Why care? A woman doing it well, that doesn't happen and if it does it's an undesirable. That being said, what's the difference at that point? Man, woman, who cares. Fuck off still. But shit, if you got turned on, fuck off, but I'm not angry. People get too worked up over insiginificance. 

Amp

I've been watching 13 reasons why. I've been drinking. 6,7,8 after a few what's it matter? "Drunk" does it matter how much?

      My hands have turned old in the last 4 weeks, seriously. It's the work, or the gloves, or both. They're darker, my knuckles are permanently cracked and rough as sandpaper. It won't go away. It seems they are wrinkled and worn beyond the rest of my body. Perhaps my body's just as old and I haven't noticed yet. I looked in the mirror today, I looked older. I'm becoming more aware of my mortality. I'm too aware of it. I'm still drinking.

        I will talk here of the things I want and whatever I damn well please. I'm also reading Bukowski. It might influence me. No. He allows me. My main "influences" don't influence me at all. That word is overrated. Those people let me know it's ok to be me. It's ok to sing fucked up songs and write like shit. Write like I want to write. Write like no one has the balls to write. Write about the deep, dark parts of my brain. Write about those dark places we all go but don't have the balls to tell or share. I have balls, to the right people I do. Fuck them. Fuck you. I'm still drinking.

          I overdrafted today to get into my storage unit. Over $419. Well, I had roughly $200. Long story short I'm in the red, again. By over $200. I have to sell my amp it's imperative. I've been told as a musician, I can't sell it, it wouldn't be right. But then I think, Buk sold his typewriter for booze or rent or whatever the fuck. He got one back, 10 years on but he did. An amp's an amp. It's been sitting for 6 months anyhow. Along with it I gotta let go of way more. Everything. Downsize. It's bittersweet as it's for money right now, but deep down I'm still ok with it because it was never about the money. It's about letting go, it's about cutting ties to all this bullshit I own so I can get the heck out of here. Anywhere. I can go wherever I want when I have nothing but a dream and some shit songs. Those won't get me anywhere. It's only me. The more crap I have, the more I'm tied down. I just haven't realized it fully yet. Slowly but surely. 

       

Back after all

It turns out, Jefferson City is the capital of Missouri, who knew? I found out the hard way today. St. Louis eat your heart out. 

         In July of 2015 (or June?) I bought and started this website. Fun fact, it was intended originally as a website dedicated to student loan information. Basically giving me a place to put my own spin on the whole ordeal. Also giving me a reason to actually investigate the actual laws and what's REALLY going on, as I was ignorant to a lot of it. But that faded quickly, becoming my own space, my own little corner of the world, albeit small, to express myself. A place to converge all aspects of my art and ideas of future art into one singular place. Music is on Soundcloud, Facebook has the most exposure, must post Soundcloud link ON Facebook page to promote album...On Bandcamp. etc. and that's just music. Instagram: Sharing life. Blogger: Sharing thoughts/verbal diarrhea. Youtube: Sharing art/thoughts via video. Facebook I can use theoretically for writing and photo albums, but it's not condusive to anything nowadays except a diatribe, or quipy ideas (see twitter).

       My issue with Facebook, although it's the universal tool and can be used to link anything to it, providing access to all, it forces people to see things they do not care about. It puts a bad taste in their mouth. it puts a bad taste in my mouth. Even though I only have 70+ "friends" at best, I can't stand most of the things they post. Sometimes it's a repost of some crap meme. Horrible creations, but I digress. My point is, on Facebook, you are shoving your shit down people's throats. Your music, videos, thoughts, opinions (yuck) everything is forced because it is required to be on your feed. I can't SEEK anything out. It's all given to me. I can't choose what i see freely. This is the whole point of the application I suppose, but I've come to a realization with it all.

       If someone wants to know where I am, or see what I;m doing, or know, hear, see, read more about me, they can seek me out. But folks don't feel the need to do that anymore, as when you post something, that's it! That's all you need to do. All this drivel ends up in their feed and they ingest it mindlessly like cattle. No one knows what they want anymore, they just swipe and keep swiping until they need to do another 5 minutes of work. They need not think. But the few (and it dwindles) moments they come-to and realize they don't care about your dog or fish or that you had a bad day, they hate you. People begin to dislike the things that are constantly shoved in their conscious mind. I find myself shaking my head scrolling, but when I think of an old friend I haven't heard from, I immediately take to the internet streets and search them up and down and find out what they've been posting, doing, in and out of Facebook etc. It's a necessary tool, but I don't hold myself to that regard where I feel the need to shove my life down other's throats.

       Which is where this website comes into play. Keep in mind, I bash social media, but I cannot bash my insatiable desire to share my life or publicize it. I am an artist at heart. I discover this more and more each week of each passing year. I'm not only a drummer, singer, guitarist, pianist, or a musician, or writer, or videographer, or documentarian or amateur photographer, or blogger etc. I am simply an artist and cannot peg myself into one hole or another. I express myself in various ways, and those ways will expand as time passes. I need an outlet, I'm under no pretense that anyone SHOULD read, hear or see my art. I don't care. But I do feel the need to make it public. I am under no illusion anyone cares or will. But having it out there for people who might care to be able to see what I do if they so CHOOSE is what this is about. Which is why I will be, for the time being, posting on all sites of mine as my last official post for a while, simply pointing them in the direction of this site. It kill two birds. They won't hear from me and I won't be in the collective's mind which i was never under the illusion of, but if I was, it's better off and it'll be one less fly in the face. AS WELL AS, if I do pop into someone's mind, and they should go seek out my Facebook page, they will see my last post about this site, visit, and discover this is where I've been living all this time. PLUS, it will be a place where they can get EVERYTHING in one place. Music, Video, Photo, Writing of all forms. Without the hassle of working to connect all the different mediums. Paring down.

If you want me, you can find me here... havenoillusions.com

It's been a while

Things have been odd these last few months. But I can't use that as an excuse, I'm only a lazy procrastinator. 

         In the past 6 months or so I've adopted the philosophy that I have no idea where I'll be next week or month, and that life can change in an instant and on a dime. I've said it many times before. "Things can change like that. On a dime. My life is so adventurous and ever changing and mysterious and yet so miserable at the same time I cannot tell you what tomorrow will bring. So no, I don't know yet if I want a burrito or a burrito bowl yet." As I stand there in line at Chipotle. 

          I've practically changed my whole mindset on this thing called life in the last two months. The last 6 I've found, come to realize, and accept that my career as a video editor is over. At least for the foreseeable future. (but we know how that goes) I'm spending my summer at a cemetery. Yes. Burying people is part of the job. I still film weddings. The incredibly difficult first half of 2016 due to we'll say, "misguided use of funds on the part of my employer" (whose really not my employer) left me penniless. Promises of this and that over the last 2.5 years, and nothing much to show. I used to be excited about it. A start up of sorts! Build the company! But after being used time and time again, and still am, I've come to a breaking point. A major reason for leaving to the West Coast. But after that frustration, I said fuck it, and got a job doing the complete opposite, I work outside. I work with a great bunch of people truly. I'm getting a farmers tan, (lovely) and i'm the fittest I'll probably ever be. Stay tuned.

   

L.A.

I was at a wedding this month. The first one of the season. I film cinematic wedding films for a living at the moment. Part of my job most times as second shooter are to film the groom getting ready before the ceremony and before he sees his beautiful bride come down the aisle.

         This particular wedding I was apprehensive. I was a bit nervous as usual, being the first wedding of the season. No matter how early the first one is in the year, I still feel out of practice and want to do my best, so it's always a relief when the wedding party, couple, and venue staff are pleasant to work with. 

                During groom prep I was moving around seeing what else I could film as I had shot quite a bit of footage as I had been early. As I stood there, monopod in hand with my camera attached to it, I overheard a conversation. I'm not sure how it started, but a few groomsmen were standing next to me talking about travelling. I learned later they were all in their mid-30's as the groom was a bit older than the bride. One said something interesting. "If I was in my 20's again I'd buy and RV and travel the country." They continued to reminisce and dream lightly on travelling had they been younger. I don't think the conversation lasted long, and I believe it stemmed rather from someone was buying an RV. But I remember specifically that someone said "Oh yea, if I could do my 20's again I'd sell my things, buy an RV and travel the country in a heartbeat, that's what I'd do." It was almost as if he was reminiscing about something he never did. But in a way like a group of people sitting around doing nothing talk about what they'd do if they won the lottery. But at this point, it seems whoever this was, had settled down now and it was too late to chase that dream. 

        I had to smile to myself in that moment. It was so odd that I would hear this exact conversation, it was too surreal. Because for 3 months now, that is what I have been planning on doing. 

      This winter for me has been eye-opening as well as difficult on many fronts. Although since the fall of 2013, every winter has been. But these particular last 4 months have been particularly strange. When I was a kid, I knew what I wanted to do. My mother told me she envied me because I was one of the few kids my age who had a dream and was chasing it. She encouraged me. She told me some people into their 40's still don't find what it is they're meant to do, and some don't find it at all. But I knew. So she encouraged me and enabled me in the few ways she could. When I got to High School, I opened up about it a little more, not much, but a little. Enough so the right people found out and enabled me some more. 

        I wasn't an outstanding student in traditional academia. I wasn't horrible, but I got by. My brain wouldn't allow it. In high school I did enough to pass with C's or above most of the time. Math perhaps lower at times. Some years A's and B's but only because the material was too easy. There were times I truly wanted to do better, but my head wouldn't let me. I used it for my dreams instead. I worked smarter not harder. I copied homework in the mornings and even got a hold of a graded test one day before I took the same one. Perhaps it's a focus issue I need treated, I still have trouble with it today. But I spent most of the time I wasn't paying attention, day dreaming. I spent my spare time after school on film and even during school in class thinking about it and writing things in back of notebooks. Ideas, stories, shot lists, scripts, everything. I would flip to the back to make it look like I was talking notes and nobody asked questions. 

 In my days in college, where I thought it'd finally take off for me, it fell apart. I was beat down by life during and afterwards. Friends old and new came and went and came fewer and further between as time moved on. As I thought things wouldn't get any worse they did. I slumped to new lows and even though I feel like I'm in one of those times now, I can look back and see it was a "character building" experience to say the least. 

          But this past winter was it. Everything that I had worked towards was falling apart, showing me no real foundation anymore. I thought I had it all figured out. But I feel life is telling me to move on. I can't seem to sit in front of my computer any longer for hours on end to edit wedding films. I literally cannot force myself to do it anymore as hard I try. I love it, but my brain can't do it anymore. It fights it. The trust and security I once thought I had in my job was tested to it's greatest lengths and it lost. Every cent I made I was conditioned to put towards living on my own and filling my space with accomplishments. Guitars, amps, cameras, tripods and computers and a beautiful workspace, my favorite paintings on the walls, a comfortable big bed I can stretch out on, a great sound system with records to play. Pianos and drums and cables and microphones. To me not material, but necessities to further my real goals towards contentment and being able to truly express myself. But I struggle to find happiness wherever I am, no matter where I move or what I don't have yet.

               All this insecurity coming upon me, accompanied with a great sense of loneliness, made me realize I have nothing holding me down here. In my life there have been two constants. I have always wanted to create films in some form, and I have always wanted to play music. I truly wanted to become a director one day or at the least an editor. I was always a better editor. It was more my style. I didn't think I had the assertiveness to direct in a feature format. I wanted to be in the film industry more than anything. But I was never so sure how to pursue it properly. With this, I took music just as seriously and there were many crossroads in my life where I was told to choose between the two, and I managed to hang on desperately to both and maintain both with equal measure and importance. But I knew if one took off, I wouldn't have the time to do both professionally. Deep down I wanted film as my life meaning. I want to reach as many people with my message and make people happy. I want to be recognized yes, but if I can make a million people smile or cry and feel a sense of joy from something I've done, then I would be truly happy. Film to me, is the easiest format to do this in. So I figured film would be it, and music would be the hobby.

       But music always came easier, more natural. I fought hard for film and I felt misplaced and odd, but music came like an extension of myself. I could always make people feel more behind the drum kit or guitar or piano then I ever had filming anything. So I feel like life is pushing me. 

       Perhaps I'm wrong, but there's no shame in finding out. I've always maintained it's better to go for something and fail or find out you were wrong, then to not and always wonder why. So a opportunity has presented itself. Rather a space for one. An opportunity I am making to fit in this space. I am dropping every part of what I know here. My job, my apartment, New England, my family and most of my belongings.

       I am going to buy an RV and move to Los Angeles. 

 

         

The Enabler

I am an enabler. I'm a giver. If I had all the money in the world I'd spend it on everyone else before myself. Of course after I took care of the things that keep me alive and content. When I have money to spend, instead of clothes and toys and new things, I usually spend it on either food, or other people. Sometimes food for other people. I think nothing more usually than to help or wish someone else well. It's literally in my head all the time. The few people in my social circle are usually the recipients of this. I can't count how many times I've spent what others think as too much on a gift or gesture or present. I'll go out of my way to make someone happy, even if it's at my own demise. It's odd talking about it and saying it. In a way, it makes it slightly less admirable. But sometimes you have to be aware of your traits to harness them properly.

           Since I can remember I was always upstaging someone's gift (not on purpose) or remembering that PERFECT thing for someone. I'll remember something they said months back and keep it deep in the back of my memory or write it down secretly so later when the time comes, I can get it for them. The look of ecstasy on their faces is what makes my life worth while. I'm terrible at receiving gifts. I love what anyone gets me, but I'm not overly emotional about them physically, internally yes, but I'm not the "OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!" Person. I'd rather give more than take. 

     This translates to non-material possessions too. Fulfilling wishes is also on my top priorities. If someone wants to go somewhere, see something or do something, I'll make it happen. Whatever it takes. Especially if they've never done it before. It also makes me most pleased and fulfilled when I can be a part of someone's first, at anything. That's a real treat.

      BUT, I also take. I am a bad taker. Not in terms of gifts or those things I mentioned above. I usually try my best to be self maintained when it comes to those things. But in terms of leaning on. When I am financially in a pinch, I put the brakes on everything. Even buying myself food. I take take take take. I don't do anything for anyone as i'm in a significant state of depression and I don't go out and get down on myself and realize my life is going nowhere fast and don't talk to my friends and cancel plans and don't get anything done and get more and more desperate. I mooch reluctantly on people who graciously help me. I'm not good at thanking people enough for it. I am learning to change that though. But doing it while I'm STILL in a financial hardship doesn't mean much to me. I want to thank someone after I'm back on my feet, and can do something for THEM. A way to say "Hey, I am here now because of you. THANK YOU!" But sometimes I go from place to place, person to person or situation to crappy situation and don't get much better. So time goes on and I feel like I look ungrateful. Which I know I do. I don't feel very good about it, but it's how my mind works.

          I block out the bad stuff and it kills me inside every time I think about it. The people I've hurt. But my mind works in a way where it will either eat me up inside and kill me, or I learn to exile it from my whole being and pretend it never happened, until I am in a better place where I can slowly intake it and rectify it. But if i try when I'm dealing with 23 other problems, then it will kill me. I will be buried in stress and problems and I'll go deeper into my stupor of sadness. So I hurt a lot of people doing this I think, but to fix it in the interim, I focus goodness and kindness and all my positive energy on other people and new people that don't know about the other things that are going on. I don't like to share all the terrible things in my life, or what I find terrible. I don't like to share all the things eating me up in my head, because that's no good. That does no good except to get it off my plate. But really it's cloning it, and putting the same trouble and sadness on THEIR plate too. So now they're burdened with my problems to either help me fix or forced to sympathize or empathize and help me see it'll work out. 

          That is no good. So I find ways like writing, preoccupying myself and playing and writing music to vent those problems. It's a great outlet. As long as I feel like it's out and I'm over needing to vent it, it works. Nobody else is hurt in the process. I'm not all that good at keeping things to myself these days. I have fewer and fewer friends as time goes on and I spend a lot of time alone to myself and so when I get to talking, WHEN i talk, it can go on for a while. I spend a lot of my time thinking. Which is why I'm good at articulating my thoughts by writing/typing, rather than speaking. I can stop for a moment or minute and think of HOW I want to say something. Rather than speaking. When i talk out loud, I lose my train of thought and lose the point or even the damn end of a sentence. I'm not used to talking too much out loud. I can function perfectly fine in conversation, but when i think about something to say, there's so much of it my mind goes 10 steps ahead or in 10 different directions and the original point is gone.  

           I can't stop and think, OK, this is what I'm going to say, every time I need to talk. That'd be weird. So I can't and don't do that. I can get deep into conversations late at night. i find when I'm most tired I can focus better ironically enough. My brain learns to focus on ONE thing and one thing only. Not multitask. Multitasking is dangerous. It teaches our brain to focus less on one thing. So when we NEED to do that, it doesn't know how and craves for 3 other things to do while you try to get that ONE thing done. Yucky. 

           I swear I'm a good person though and some day soon I'll be back on top and apologizing and thanking the people who helped me along the way. Some day, but that day is not today.

It's not where you are, it's where you're going to be.

- Pat