May 5 by The Running Son
..and I have to to begin this now. figure it out as I go. I closed my door as I have done for these past several days, because crying is common during writing poems, and remembering, everything. So my cats don’t mind, and enough generous readers dont mind either. I’d like to share my refection on the event, over a few posts. Event Ha!
Sober means sober-minded. A biblical type term I don’t think we use much, but I like it and it means I am thinking clearly, OK. Got years in AA. For other things though. Drinking don’t agree with me and I liked smoking pot. What can I say? AA for a weed habit? I just liked the people. Anyway, I’m here now.
I’m here on the heals of the most powerful manic I have had. And different, like the “Seltzer of the Mind” kind to quote Wain Jordan (also a poet, did I mention?). But a different kind this time. Not the angry, mad-dog rip your hat off kind of “you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry” kind of HULK YOU!!
Yuk. This one was different. Exhilarating at first. Pure energy and ideas. and the will to try to surmount the problems I had. Like my messy room. My ailing dad. And my blog identity issue that I talked about. Like what’s happening? Are you a poet or an artist or a librarian? Or what? I don’t know, but it feels kind of cold and squirrelly in there. Hehe yep. So I was gonna fix that, and write some mean-ass poetry. If it was REALLY “mean”– like “mean to the extreme, baby!”. So mean, then I would maybe begin a new blog.
But I had other sticky issues going on. Shower, Jim. You’re sticky. And brush your teeth while you’re at it. And don’t forget the cat’s and your large-eyed dog, Buster the dog, or to wash clean underwear. Since my room is a hoarders paradise since I broke up with Di, I got serious cleaning to do. Cant live a bi-life on the computer working out your salvation in rhymes and a past lives artwork.
But between needing friends and feeling so alone, and my bi-polar disorder making me feel like a label in some DSM manual of facts about all things brain-broken (<—cynicism, sorry) ahem… I was in a very “unique place”. Like a weird energetic ability to make good on all the polar opposites in my life, beginning with a poem, The Union of Opposites, which I just received constructive criticism on. Didn’t take it well. Whew. O man.
I shot back a curt, and mean (in the normal sense mean) email which I will not grace you with, but was curt, and mean, and it took til now to see that. Damn.
Anyways, I decided to do a small, SOBER (do I need to explain?) series of these before the purity of my memory makes it difficult.
What I really want to do, is have this, and all those posts, and have it available as a chronicle of what happens when a bad manic happens and you’re off medication, like me, or on… of course. Either way, if anyone else has had this “experience” of wild creativity, and the sense of bonds, or restrictions to social connection and creative talent being lifted, and clarity of thinking.. at times, whatever. If I could think of 10 words to describe some of the experiences I had, sober, and HOPE other people have had too, in that manic episodic head-pounding do-it all phase, there would be 10,000 words I would mourn the loss of. Some of them are UN-explainable, as I hope other Bi-polar sufferers also know, and understand that I know too. Not alone, truely.
Enuf bi-ramblin on. Desert boy have to use his sense of timing and sober-minded good grace to not make this post 10,000 words long.
Didn’t cry. cool. Opening my door, the cats want out.
Love you guys.
PS: Speaking of timing, I got worlds of bad words for the idea of blog queues. and the way things get forgotten in time. Anyway, smart people publish at certain times.
Other people ask the smart people. Anyone? I donno, There are too many timezones.
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