November 29

May 3rd 1998: Composition

It’s getting hard these days, the writing. I’ve found recently that I am unable to find the motivation for it. It seems that I have lost my ability for it. Last night I sat down at my desk for nearly an hour trying to put pen to paper but all that came out was incoherent babbling.

I just sat at first, whatever it was I was jotting down could hardly be considered language and after that hour all I had was basically a blank page. I guess what it is they say about me in school is true I am the great procrastinator.

Also I think this methadone is affecting my brain. I mentioned before how phony sobriety has left me empty. But more so than that I find that I just don’t care. I don’t care to write how I used to and even when I try all that comes out is drivel that clearly shows this cavernous void in the pit of my stomach.

It’s either that I don’t care or maybe it is as I had once feared and my consumption of drugs over these years has begun to rot my brain. I remember when I was 15 I was able to spurt out flowing prose as if at will. Now I feel like I couldn’t put together a coherent sentence to save my life.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just too self conscious, I never just write, I always try to make it funny, witty or have some grand scheme about life conveyed through my words. Maybe that’s just it then, my brain is fine I just need to work on my conscience.

 

December 2

May 8th 1998: Family

I don’t think I’ve ever once talked about my family, have I? At least not in any amount of detail, I know that for sure. Well as sit with all of them here collected here at the table of a fancy restaurant I realize them every single on of them pisses me the fuck off. There’s not a single one of them I could possibly tolerate at this point in time.

First off there’s my father, the man who will put down anything you say or do with every chance he gets. He’s your typical philandering, 50+, faux-Englishman, Gordon Gecko wannabe motherfucker. He’ll mock you in the middle of saying something just because you’re not saying it correctly.

My mom is pretty similar to my dad actually; she’ll put you down and make you feel two inches tall. But my mom, you see will do it by accident. She’ll talk all this crap and make you feel like complete and utter shit but she will think that it’s a joke, not realizing that she’s completely shattered any trace of self-esteem that you ever had. It’s really not her fault, I guess she’s just naïve, she will always say the wrong thing at the wrong time. And she will take the brunt of my dad’s verbal assault because of it.

The fact of the matter is no matter how much she nags me or how much she pisses me off, which is a lot by the way, qnd no matter how much I say I hate her the truth of it is I still love my mom. But then again even people who hate their mothers still love their mothers; it’s a fact of life. I’m just not too fond of her right now.

Now we have my little sister, Pilar. Now there are a million ways I could talk shit about her, about how she’s a bossy little bitch who does everything my dad tells her to but I really don’t want to. I love my sister, she was my best friend when we were growing up and she’s still a good person. I think I just resent her because she has always been better than me, better at school, better at sports, better at getting my parents love. But I really can’t hold that against her… as much as I want to.

I keep forgetting I have an older brother that lives in the US; he’s not here right now so I’ll save his story for another time.

My Mom, Dad and sister have been giving me heed the entire evening, just the usual stuff like how much of a complete fuck up I am, nothing out of the ordinary. Just before the food arrived I had had enough of the crap they were dishing out so I got up from the table and walked out the door with no intention of coming back.

I walked down the to the train station when I realized I didn’t have enough money to make my way home. As much as I didn’t want to I turned around and headed back to the restaurant.

So I’m sitting here now on the side of the street waiting till I can swallow enough of my pride to walk back into that restaurant. I’m sure my Dad and sister are taking bets as to when I would return. I sucked down another Marlboro and walked back in. Not a word was said between us, I spent the rest of the evening writing this.