Letters from the Lunar Outpost

Beauty is an outward gift, which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has been refused.
- Gibbon, English Historian (1737-1794)

Monthly Archives: June 2011

After I had regained consciousness enough to swoon for the sweet nurse who had kept me steadily hydrated with juices and after the huffy heifer and her hours of stinginess was done I was told that once all the alcohol was out of my system, there would be a lady to come talk to me, a psychologist I assumed, and we could see where we would go from there.

I was pretty clear what this all meant: it was going to be up to the psychologist’s assessment whether she felt that I was no longer a threat to myself and could be released on my own recognizance or if she felt I needed to be kept for some longer term care.

The two roads diverging could not be any more distinct, do I say – a) I was just on a good one and talking some drunken shit and really have no intention of harming myself, or do I choose b) and totally come clean that I had laid the groundwork and removed all obligations for my own suicide.

And in a moment of optimism and with a glimmer of happiness I chose to tell the lady the thruth, knowing it would land me up in the mental hospital.

(continued . . . )

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ewok-walk
               

[mp3j autoplay=”y” track=”http://losalamoslabs.com/mc/_/Spun_Honey_II/08_Black_Widow_Stepmom.mp3″]

Some people
Get evil
When money’s on the line they just lose their mind
I know you
And I see
Those crocodile tears but they don’t fool me

I can’t claim
You’ve no love
I know that there’s some love inside your heart
Your doggies
You love them
Well Hitler was a guy who loved his dogs, too

Black widow stepmom
She did a dance when my daddy died
Black widow stepmom
If she told you she loved him you know she lied
Black widow stepmom
Filled with venom and filled with hate
Black widow stepmom
Karma and you are gonna have a date

She’s ranting
And raving
It’s only when she yells that she feels alive
She’s screeching
And screaming
You pray there might be peace but you’re just dreaming

Each visit
A nightmare
A battle where the words are like sticks and stones
You’ve entered
The war zone
And driving home we’d shake with P. T. S. D.

Black widow stepmom
She did a dance when my daddy died
Black widow stepmom
If she told you she loved him you know she lied
Black widow stepmom
Filled with venom and filled with hate
Black widow stepmom
Karma and you are gonna have a date

Black widow stepmom
She did a dance when my daddy died
Black widow stepmom
If she told you she loved him you know she lied
Black widow stepmom
Filled with venom and filled with hate
Black widow stepmom
Karma and you are gonna have a date

Black, black, black widow
Black, black
Black, black, black widow
Black, black
Black, black, black widow
Black, black
Black, black, black widow
Black, black

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ewok-walk
               

After the sheriffs were kind enough to give me a ride to the emergency room, the nurses drew some blood and I was told I had a respectable .34 blood alcohol level. They had a nice lady posted up to keep her eyes on me at all times and she was very kind, I was dehydrated, thirsty out of my mind, and she kept me supplied with a steady stream of juices, then they switched shifts and a new Mexican lady came in with the look of a cow in her placid eyes and slow, lumbering girth and as she thumbed through her magazines, I began getting unbelievably thirsty again.

I asked her if I could have a juice. She told me in five or ten minutes. I waited patiently and asked again about ten minutes later. Still busily flipping through her magazine, again she told me five or ten more minutes. Fuck that bitch and the dumb bovine look on her face as she sat there, not even reading, but just looking at page after page of pictures. I pulled out the I.V.s from my arms and ripped off the patches and went down that hallway looking for some nurses worth a damn and found three of them congregated in an after hours gab session. I told them I was dying of thirst and this lady just sits there, thumbing through her magazine. One of the male nurses took exception with my suggestion that his coworker was lazy and he told me that’s what she’s paid to do, just sit there and thumb through magazines.

When you’ve drank yourself into a .34 BAL and you got to that level of intoxication all by your own hands, and the back story on how you ended up in the ER is that you’ve threatened to kill yourself, it’s easy to see that some of the nurses working there could range from indifferent to disgusted by your self-inflicted plight, so I kept that in mind. They finally got me some juices again and I’d say 80% of the nurses working there that night and the next day were absolute angels.

(to be continued . . . )

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ewok-walk
               

I was done with this world and on a mission to end it all so I got to a point where I was ready to take care of all my earthly obligations.

A jazz big band, a jazz combo and a hard rock cover band, three bands I loved and cherished and was Mr. Dependable for for over a year and a half, making it on time to 56 out of 56 gigs (yes, I counted) and yet as much as I loved those bands, I had reached a point where I was done and I had to quit all three of my beloved bands. I was willing to play a final show or two if a replacement could not be found, but was fortunate to find that a new bass player was ready for both the upcoming gigs and it looked like I would not have to leave any of the bands in the lurch.

My clients, the clients I’ve loved and worked with over years and years, I had to hand them over to other developers and say my goodbyes, a couple of them tearful. The company that was so gracious to send me new clients, I tried to finish up the current projects the best I could and then tell them, thanks for the opportunities, sorry but I am out of the game.

So there it was, all my obligations handed away, all my responsibilities done and all the loose ends tied. I had it all set up.

Where I screwed up was in being caught in an inebriated state of honesty when the neighbors came over for a dinner party the following Tuesday night and they asked, “Why are you doing this?” “Why have you quit all the bands and handed off all your clients?”

In a moment of drunken honesty I blurted out, “Because I’m going to go out to Las Vegas and kill myself.”

I’ve been dreaming of ending this life since I was 13, but it was only when I was 32 and saw Leaving Las Vegas that the seed was planted. I saw that movie and never has a movie resonated so much with me. It planted a seed and the seed has grown roots over the last ten years.

My drunken honesty that Tuesday night got me a ride in the Sheriff’s car straight to the emergency room of the local hospital. And so there was a bump in the road, but I believe everyone has the right to choose the time and place of their own dying if they so desire, and this is just a bump in the road on my way to Making Las Vegas.

Leaving Las Vegas - To Be Continued

Leaving Las Vegas - To Be Continued

(continued . . . )

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ewok-walk
               

The following was a journal entry from the age of 23 . . .

Last Sunday was the most perfect Sunday of my life. Jenny invited me to go to Catalina with her, Robert, Emy and Kathy. I was surprised and delighted to be invited. It seems that she was impressed by how nice Kathy and Emy thought my new place with Marc was.

We took the Catalina Flyer out of Newport and were on our way. The Flyer is a large, three-story catamaran and the trip takes about an hour.

Kathy and I were somewhat engrossed in conversation when we suddenly looked up and there was Catalina in front of us, filling the horizon with its rugged, tropical terrain and the beautiful Avalon pavilion. It was early in the morning and my usually stable stomach was feeling a just a bit woozy, but we all had made it without getting sick, which was a good sign.

Glad to be back on land, we headed straight for the rental golf carts and began exploring the island. . .

As the day was over and Kathy was driving me home, I told her that it really had been a perfect day, said she was just thinking that herself. That put the perfect ending to a perfect day.

The next day when I woke, Marc told me that he’d scored me six hits of acid. I thought it a bit strange of him to do this out of the blue, but I quickly discarded the thought and dropped a couple hits, saving the other four for Kathy and I to enjoy later.

It seemed to take forever to come on, and as I did, I began to get horny for one of my porno mags. Having taken care of that, I decided it was time for a bath. I relaxed for the first time in my new bath and was tickled with how nice my new bath was, with its deep tub and its arm and head rests. I must have been in there for a half an hour, but then, it’s really hard to say.

I began hearing the sounds of traffic, wails of human despair, people fighting and angry voices, as if someone was giving me a sampling of the audio track to hell. Somehow, without a single word of explanation, I knew that I was experiencing one side of the scales of justice, that this was what you reap if this was what you sew. The sound of hell, it was so real, it scared the fuck out of me.

. . . the journal entry ended there, just kind of hanging there like that without any resolution.

Reminds me of more reflections on God and the afterlife on another post.

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ewok-walk
               
Currently Listening To:

Team of Rivals
by
Doris Kearns Goodwin