Dirty Laundry

Tonight was another sad one for the record books. Not sure what's going on. I picked up an old copy of Basketball Diaries, and started plowing through. Pretty soon, the idea of sniffing glue or shooting up sounded attranctive. This was scary and exciting. I have not touched drugs or alcohol in a very long time. But these days there is a big pain, and I can see myself drinking into oblivion.

I remember when I worked at the liquor store in Boulder. I felt bad about giving the homeless alcohol. I even felt sick about giving anyone alcohol. Then a friend laid it to me straight: "You don't know what kind of suffering a person's going through."

I heard the advice then, and I wonder if it's some I need to take myself. I have been afraid to go near alcohol. I have not ever needed it. But, these days, I can see myself drowning in it.

It is so hard to lose a wife.

It would help if I didn't love her. It would help if I could pretend alcohol made a difference. It would help if I could drive into oblivion.

I don't though. I sit with it.

At work, people call me Mr. Rogers (I take off my shoes and all). Larry also does impersonations of me: "I'm Pirooz. I write books. La de da de dah!"

It's all in good fun. It's also pretty on the nose. I might as well work for PBS right?

Last night I talked to the ex-wife and she said I was such a good person and so strong, that whenever I ever came to her with a problem, it freaked her the fuck out.

"So only you could come with your problems," I say. "There was no room for me."

"Yeah," she says.

"I'm vulnerable and fragile like everyone else," I say.

"Yeah," she says. "But no one wants to hear that from you. It scares them. They're like, 'if he can't deal with life, then how can I?' "

This made me want to be flawed. This made me want to scream out loud.

"I am not perfect," I say.

"But if all you give is your strong side, then the other side is going to throw people off. "

I think about this. It strikes a chord. She speaks some truth. I do tend to be asked for advice a lot. I like giving it, if I know anything about the pain, etc. It might be better to keep my mouth shut though. But, if I keep my mouth shut, then who am I? It seems counter to what I am.

I am me. Does anyone understand that?

I certainly don't. I don't understand a thing these days. I don't get that someone loves you, but doesn't want to be with you. I don't get that one at all.

Whatever. This is very secret journaling stuff. But I figure I got to let everyone know that I am hurting. I am hoping this will let me see it in a new light.

What else?

It's strange. I have spent about 3 years alone now. Before, I wrote books, and so my time was filled with the beauty of me and my characters. That reality was much more real than this one.

I also think about Byron Katie's statement: "How do I know I don't need what I want? I don't have it."

I wonder how soon before I go crazy. That statement makes me crazy.

I went and met Byron Katie. Did I tell you? I gave her a copy of "...Strategies." Well, her assistants. She was very sweet, tough, and nice. I do believe she is the real deal for her, but I don't think it really works for me.

Spiritually, I have followed the Sufis. No rules. I know on the other end is something else. They attract me though. Those stories attract me. Yes, the stories attract me.

I know this day will die like all the others. I am here feeling it with you. It reminds me of when an old girlfriend and I had to get an abortion, and then I had to go play a show. I felt so horrible. There was a lot of guilt.

Do I feel guilty about something?

No, I am sad and lonely. Mmmm. Basketball Diaries. That is amazing. Reading this book brings back those old feelings. They have been there all the time. I am looking at them now. Mmmm. Yes, I am suicidal at times. No, big deal. Everyone has tough days. Drugs. Yes...

Do I want to do drugs? It might be interesting. It would be very different now. I don't need it though. Maybe, some tabs of e and 4 hot babes. Ah!

Who is this? What is this?

Mmmm... Hey, dude. I missed you. It's me, guys. It's Pirooz at 23. He is back. He is hanging out. Hold on...

Now it all makes sense. All these young chicks hungry for the MoJo. Rock star Pirooz is back. Actor Pirooz is back. Wow. What do I do?

"Dude, take me out to a party? Lets go have fun."

"It's okay. You can have fun in other ways. I am going to get a hot chocolate. I will drink a glass of wine. I will buy you a book."

"The kandinsky book?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Okay."

4 comments:

Stacy Elaine said...

super interesting read. looking forward to some tea with my little flawed friend.

sincerely,

the other flawed

Sean said...

Pirooz, to you, to Nicole, to Stacy, to all of my friends, I come because I know your hearts are strong in joy and in sorrow, knowing that, feeling that, is the greatest comfort.

John Posatko said...

My favorite post so far. Everyone who reads this can relate to at least one color of your spectrum of feelings right now. For me, I taste the whole rainbow right now, man. This I get. This stuff reminds me why I keep checking this post every day.

Pirooz M. Kalayeh said...

S--Tea is wonderful with you.

Se--Yes, I know. It was good to write this post. Now I know I am not the story Nicole has of me. I am not even my story of me. I am different every day. I am strong and vulnerable. I am joy and sadness. Nicole is simply unavailable to one side of me. You get to experience the fullness of what I am. This is what makes you amazing. This is what make us alive. This is what makes us friends. :)

J--What is that book called? Gravity's Rainbow? This is what you remind me of now. I tried to read it a while back. Maybe, I will try again. Maybe, it's just a great title.
Maybe, I will steal it. Who knows? Thank you for seeing all the colors of what I am.

Isn't that the funny thing about art? People think it's black and white. I know it's about Oreos. Double stuff! You know what I'm saying?

Today I talked to Nicole. I told her about walking on the street. I could see shadow or light. If I walked around with humming birds and angels in my sight, this is what I see. If I only see the homeless and life's problems, this is all I see. Neither is reality. Neither is the name of God.

But, if I can see both, then I am in reality. This is a great place to be. Nothing is put upon me and there is no one to blame. It's just reality. Some people are homeless. Some people are angels. Some people are artists. And some of those see all the colors of that rainbow.

Punctuation and style change with each wave of possibility. Content is as free as my desire to go there. But to see Gravity's Rainbow, this is what it is to be an artist.

Funnily, this is what it is to be human too.

I am glad to be a human artist (Would this make me a humanist or post-post-modernist? Does this mean I'm beat? I will post the term...) I look forward to finding that the most attractive thing to write about is not necessarily pretty. It is simply where I need to go. It is dancing throughout the spectrum of gravity's rainbow.

Thank you for dancing with me.