Change Is Strange

I told myself that a blog will be written every week from now on and it will. So far today I have gone to my favorite coffee shop on the island and played a ton of acoustic guitar covers of rock songs. I suppose I have a lot to say. But not today for some reason.

I rest every Sunday. I plan for the week every Monday. For a while I wasn't even sure I was going to survive so now the plans all seem awesome and interesting. Surviving was good. 

Now I can get things accomplished, But first I will need more coffee.  

I keep telling myself the weeks will get easier. That eventually I'll forget what happened. A roaring ocean will turn into a little creek behind a house that nobody notices floods until there's a storm.  

I can erase the bad stuff forever, I wrote it down, I let it go, but I can't stop thinking about the kids, and the other women I helped to hurt. Elsa would tell me to let it go. I want to let it go. But sometimes he's there smoking cigarettes in a green bandana. And I see James Hetfield drive by on rt. 37 while I'm going towards the bridge to go to Lava Java, the bridge I drove so many times just to find Dharma in the clouds and the songs on the radio. And driving the wrong way over the tall bridge and how it's an entirely different view than the one you had for 30 years before it.

One day I saw Larry Croft riding his skateboard near the Elk's. One day I saw him waiting for his sandwich at the Wawa counter. He doesn't see me. I'm actually afraid of him seeing me because he beats women, And I tell people about that. My only saving grace is that I would take the beating and press charges so hard. At least if he killed me he would finally be in fucking jail. 

I don't like writing now because all that comes out is not the world I believe should exist. It's all the world I was forced to exist in. I need to expunge it though. 

As my best friend Casey can confirm I can spin any horrible thing into some funny optimistic bullshit but I have been having a hard time seeing the humor in anything about this.  It will come to me eventually. Maybe once they don't live 3 doors down. But I need it sooner than that.

I thought of so many things to say and write about in the last 2 weeks but by the time I sit down at my computer I just want to let it go. I don't want to focus. I just want to be. To meditate. 

I finally feel free for the first time in a long time. 

Election night 2016 was a surreal experience for me. I should write about it in every significant detail. I was with some old friends and some really new friends. No one could believe what happened but everyone was complacent in it. I danced to Debbie Harry at the end of the world. My ex's band played Rage Against the Machine. Sometimes peace is unimaginable and yet it happens anyway. 

I try not to focus on accomplishing only things I can imagine. Some things are too weird for your imagination. Somethings are unimaginable. I know that it can be in a good way. Because it's been in a bad way far too often. 

I did a lot of things this past year. This past summer and winter. I was away from Kyle and every moment of wasted time and anger seems futile and will be regretted someday. We still talked every single day but we didn't sleep side by side for over half a year. I did not realize what I had until it was gone. I will write about that too. I never even faced at the time how painful living without Kyle was. I was very busy telling everyone including myself what a good idea it was to protect him from my panic attacks. 

It was so hard to live without him and Zack. I have an album half written, I went a lot of places. Made a lot of new, and saw a lot of old friends. But I spent the in between moments devastated that my family was gone. Knowing that more than anything I wanted to get better so that nothing bad happened to them. I want to write about motherhood too. The thing that made me think I might never write again. Which is a necessary story. 

Until Next Time... 

Mister Jackie Lane