The Rock Bottom Chronicles

Rambling 1/23/2013

some days I wish I could fight the flares of solar winds 

with heartless songs and global grins, 

hopeless words of drunken beings, 

senseless acts in desperate days. 

we drive so far to escape our truths only to drag the lies by their roots

and still I walk amongst the crowded mind of a lonely soul

yet none combine the truths i seek on days of nights,

and still I speak to those who might…

those who might catch wind of truth,

and still I talk with the oceans youth,

and still I roam this land so lost,

and still I break a little more 

so lost

and still i fake a little more

so lost,

and still I

and still so lost…

broken words in stuttered lips 

speaking truths after drunken sips 

yet forgotten are the truths of spirits, 

as the days become new sober lyrics,

and the last words muttered in the dance of souls, 

was it truth or fiction,

no one knows…

A year ago today…

I lost a friend I considered a brother.

I’ve never been one to mourn, publicly show sadness, or give thought to losses,

But this man I miss.

But I can’t help but realize, through this loss, I gained new amazing people in my world. People I would have never thought twice to meet, or share with if tragedy hadn’t brought us together.

So today, I still do not morn the loss of my brother, but thank him for bringing me closer to those he knew were worth meeting. 

And I carry his memory with me, as I smile through my day, knowing he watches over me, smiling, for the simple fact that I am not saddened by loss, but carried to greatness through memories and strength.

the ways of life…

Meet randomly
Hit it off instantly
Have conversations about everything, and nothing
Spend 5 hours together doing nothing but talking, listening to music, and sitting comfortably in silence, without either of you getting bored.
Receive early morning texts saying “come over for breakfast”
Run errands together, and actually enjoy it
Sit on webcams talking all night looking like total shit but still having fun
Don’t care that you just spent the day looking at this person, enjoy looking at them all night
Watch movies over the phone
Spend an hr trying to sinque movies so you can watch together
Do this more then once
Receive random texts saying “I want to come over, you have 2 mins to decide yes or no… make the right choice”
Enjoy every bit of this…
Wake up
Realize your texts aren’t being answered
No phone calls
Finally you talk
Feel like you’re the only person to ever be told things are going too well
You’re ruining the plan
They didn’t expect to meet you
They didn’t expect to love spending so much time with you
They decided things happened to fast
They got scared
They took a huge leap back
And in this process…
You just faded away.
Realize you’re back to where you were.
Only you never asked to be shown there was someone amazing out there
Someone you cliqued perfectly with
Someone just like everything else in your life
Someone you wernt going to let in
Someone you decided maybe you should
Then just like that
Just like everything else
She’s gone.

I always feel the need to explain my thought process to people, but then I remember no one ever really gets the way I think anyway, no one really cares after you spend so much time putting who you are and how your mind works into words, and well frankly stupid people take up to much space and don’t deserve the time it would take to make them understand. 

I’m a simple man to figure out, all I want is my son to be healthy and happy, some good friends, a garage full of tools, a beer now and then, and a damn good woman by my side to enjoy the ride with…

I’m pretty sure I can buy beer and I have a fuck load of tools. 

I have a very small handful of friends who enjoy my company from time to time, and my son’s healthy and seems happy, and I’ll keep him on that track as best I can, I guess what I’m getting at is, more and more I’m wishing I had a good dame by my side.

… who am I kidding, in my 35 almost 36 years, that’s never worked out well. I’ll probably just buy a dog.

I like to refer to myself as an artist when I meet dames at the bar, and they ask me what I do,

it’s really just my way of letting them know I’m broke, anti-social and I drink a lot.

I’ve never been a fan of my sleepless nights, they’ve been around for as long as I can remember.

I tend to use them as constructively as I can. Art, design, writing, for as long as I can remember things have always been the same. I can’t sleep, when I do sleep I don’t sleep well, and I do my best work at the oddest hours. 

I guess what I’m really getting at tonight, as it’s almost 5am, my mind twists and turns with every thought like clock work with everything from money, bills, my issues with drinking, my health, my son, his happiness, who in their right mind would let me raise a kid, being alone for so long it doesn’t even matter anymore, but I still miss having someone around to talk to, and not trusting people enough to try not to be alone…

I sit here doing the normal song and dance, but tonight my one big question to myself is, am I an artist because I’m creative? Or did I just some how convince myself to be an artist because insomnia slowly makes you mad, you start thinking way to much, seeing things in your mind, you open doors you never knew existed and out comes art. I’ve written books, poetry, nonsense rambles, more then I know. I have sketch books and hard drives full of bullshit designs, and a mind so rambled nothing ever makes any sense until it’s finally out. Even now, I’m writing this down, not because I care what anyone thinks, but because somewhere inside my mind, I hope, once something has come out of me, I’ll finally be able to get a good nights sleep.

Voodoo Timm’s fact of the night:

I’ve never been good with people, and I’ve never really cared otherwise. But every now and then I forget how bad I am at it, but, they tend to remind me of the fact.

Rant of the day:

 First off, I know most of you mean well, but truth is meaning well and knowing what you talk about before you say things are two totally different things. Something that really annoys me more and more lately, is when I get told how great of a dad I am (that part always makes me feel nice), but it’s always followed with “most men don’t take that sort of responsibility” or some other bullshit knock all men down statement. Truth is, more fathers then get credit pay attention to their kids, and raise them on their own. or help raise them, or try their hardest to help raise them but get fucked over by shit moms who are angry their relationship went sour so they use their kids as the only thing that can hurt a guy. I happen to know quite a few men who do everything they can to raise their kids the best they know how, and meet more and more every day. it’s like everything else, it’s easier to judge a group by the few shit examples you’re force fed as bad examples daily. I dont call all women whores because I know a handful, (hell let’s get real I know quite a few handfuls, but I still respect all women). People need to stop calling men deadbeats or bad parents because they’re angry at their shitty choices in baby dads, or from what they watch on tv… It’s funny, but I know way more shit moms then shit dads these days. You hate men? maybe stop fucking deadbeats, stop making shitty choices with your vagina, or just turn lesbian. Thanks and have a nice day…

imreallyamermaid asked: I like this page.

Thanks.

…and when you’re asked the question “what do you want to be remembered as when you die?”,

what will your answer be?

In the end, I’m sure everyone wishes to be remembered, most hope for greatness, me, I only hope to be a quote in someone’s day… a simple sentence filled with strength, laughter, or pain. I do not care if you know my name, just remember the words I’ve said. remember the times I bled. remember the days I spent in tears, pen in hand, shedding words like skin, slithering the snakes wisdom, onto the angels tablet while walking the devils path to the next adventure leading me towards the bottom. I will never say, please remember me. But please remember the letters I’ve combined, the thoughts I’ve related directly from my troubled mind. I’d never wish to be considered great, but Id appreciate the moments to read you take. I’ve never hoped to be a hero of the past, just a troubled man, a pad and a pen, and a half filled glass.