Shine on you crazy diamond."
There ought to be someone I can talk to about this and I really should look at why there isn't. Why in my life I haven't anyone left who could listen.
"now there's a look in your eyes
like black holes in the sky"
Maybe I'm supposed to be putting it all down instead. Isn't that what that psychic said when I was in New York between heaven and hell and just searching for someone anyone to tell me what to do? Why can't I remember his name? Pero? Raymond Pero maybe? Dawg. Why do I consult someone about the future when my past keeps slipping away down a dark hole?
"comeon you poor child you whiner and loser comeon you miner for truth and illusion and shine."
I somehow keep cycling back to my childhood. Yesterday I watched "The Exorcist", drinking tequila and wine and fast-forwarding through all the exposition to compress it down to just the possession scenes.
"It's an excellent day for an exorcism, Father Karris."
There's no way to read that sentence without hearing Mercedes McCambridge's smokey sneer, dark as incense at a Black Mass. She died in March and I didn't even know but then why would I?
And now I'm listening to Pink Floyd and remembering my freshman year at SUNY Albany, when I would listen to "Animals" or "Dark Side of the Moon" for hours, stoned, and then go out walking walking walking. Once I almost got hit by a bus and realized without surprise that I didn't care if I lived or died. I do remember wanting them to play the black girl's wail from "The Great Gig in the Sky" at my funeral. Such a drama queen.
God I wish I had some weed. I would really really like to be very fucked up right now. I hear sentences in my head that are just right to put down and then they come out different on the page. That's like being stoned and thinking up so many answers you can solve all your problems and the world's too with the ones left over and then you sober up and can't remember what any of them were.
It's not right listening to Floyd straight. Its just not right.
I remember once going bike riding with some kids in Albany, at night through some suburban neighborhood that was all hills and twisting paths through trees, past big houses all brightly lit up from inside. That's all I remember, not who I was with or where or why just that feeling of rushing headlong through the night, passed cozy homes and intact families while I was starting out in the world alone and more than a little terrified.
"When I come home cold and tired its good to warm my bones besides the fire
far away across the fields the tolling of the iron bell
calls the faithful to their knees
to hear the softly spoken magic spell"
I just beat off three times in a row. God I am Lester Burnham. So where's my epiphany?
So that Albany memory has stayed with me all these years and revisits me from time to time I don't know why. How do you know when you're living a moment that's going to become a memory? I never remember the big things the important things you take pictures to try to capture forever. Just these random impressions that stick to me like ink stains.