The End of the Beginning.





Mid-December, 2010:














January 10th, 2011: The Beginning of the End.








Currently, too many friends watch, hear that video and see themselves: more than a nod of recognition. Rather, a break through reflection.

That was the beginning—the beginning of what should have been my end.

However, I survived. Barely, but survived, nonetheless.

How?

Another entry, if I ever get there. Entailing the nightmare many months long…too sordid, terrifying, exhausting and, honestly, the details are mostly unremembered—foggy, at best; black wholes, at worst.

Survived, nonetheless.

Why?

Fuck if I know.

Yet.

Today was, for me, a busy and tiring one, typical for any other body, but mine?

I took a shower.

Pin on me a flower!

All day, here, there, everywhere and while enduring day-to-day living, I thought of Lazarus.

"Laz, buddy, I feel ya'. No—seriously—I feel you. By God, did anyone, after witnessing the miracle, help you home or…bring to your…cave or street corner or wherever the flurk you lived, like, a bowl of chicken noodle soup or—I dunno—fluff your pillow, tuck you in, buy your groceries for a week or…shampoo your hair? 'Cause this waking the dead shit is killing me! Jesus wept!"

A body dead four days portends…catastrophe? A body bedridden three years tends to…atrophy?

Life don't give a shit 'bout health woes, thoughs, so at you it continues to throws fast-bitch after fast-bitch until…

Brain: blows.

Your Rye writer, however, was lucky, in that she had one helluva "Fielder" playing Catch-her.

For now, alls I want yous to knows…

I'm living proof:

You, too, can catch those fast-bitches…then strike the motherfucker out.

I'm living proof.

Waking the Dead is the beginning of an end.

"It's not up to you."

The downside to the upside:

The decision is one on which our upside-down minds cannot always depend.

However…

This doesn't preclude waking the dreams of living the happy end.

Goddammit, I'm beginning, living proof.










Written in twenty minutes, first entry in over a year, no reread or edits—no coherence.

No apologies.

Dammit: I'm barely awake, half-dead, and written un-proofed.







5 comments:

  1. Glad you survived. The stinking world makes more sense with you in it to point out the daily absurdity of it all,via any media you choose.But i for one, am glad to see you write again.
    Love you Kiddo.

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  2. "This doesn't preclude waking the dreams of living the happy end."

    You're goddamned right.

    Much love.

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  3. Waking the Dead *is* the beginning of the end. We have both woken. What next? Time to be Sisyphus.

    "All Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is his thing. Likewise, the absurd man, when he contemplates his torment, silences all the idols. In the universe suddenly restored to silence, the myriad wondering little voices of the earth rise up. Unconscious, secret calls, invitations from all the faces, they are the necessary reverse and price of victory. there is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. The absurd man says yes and his effort will henceforth be unceasing. If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny, or at least there is but one which he concludes is inevitable and despicable. For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days. At that subtle moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning toward his rock, in that silent pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which becomes his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's eye and soon sealed by his death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling."

    Rock and roll, chickadee.
    Much love,
    Rinn

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  4. Count me as someone very glad you've survived, and very glad to hear you tell about it. Keep on saying so, Annie.

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  5. Color me unsurprised: responses from my most devoted, beloved readers—friends. (Unsurprised in the good way, of course.)

    All I can think of to say is…thank you, for wanting me to stick around, and for fighting the "good fight." More importantly, I think and say…I love you, all—in very, very different ways. :)

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