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(Sunday, 28JUN2010)
　
(upon waking)
　
The tensed relaxation is still here .. The feeling that this isn’t home but just a continuation of the adventure I mistook for vacation -- my life ..
The idea that I am my phallus is still strong, when I looked in the mirror I understood that what I saw was a mere shadow, a mere hologram or who I was, because who I was was not physical -- who I am is my qualities. And what those qualities -- that presence -- felt like, including in bed.
That’s the thing about the sexual abuse, it’s one thing to say I was hurt, it’s another to say He was hurt, my phallus, abused, owned, disrespected.
It’s hard to tell whether I am my phallus or whether my phallus is me, all I know is I’m born physical but grow up to be my soul, same as humans are born platonic but grow up to be sexual.
It’s like the adult mind has to go through every story, in order to get all the way back to the horrific it began with, hence the tumultuous existence.
I’m always trying to find ways to have relationships in which hurt isn’t an option. No wonder it hasn’t worked, if the secret to sex is hurt, if the secret to life is overcoming hurt.
The trick to the Abuse was them making it so horrific I’d never be intelligent enough to ever articulate it. That’s what made them so confident about doing that to a little boy; Baby Boy ..
There’s nothing wrong with having been dumb. You were a little kid and what everyone had on you was that they knew more than you. You were a little kid, you were supposed to know the least. It wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t traumatizing, because it was fine to not know enough.
Just cause you didn’t know things in words like they did doesn’t mean you didn’t Know enough to remain Good. You don’t have to know everything in words in order to protect yourself. You’re you now, and that can never be taken away. No need for words no more. Not in the way you used to use them, desperately trying to know enough so that it can never happen again.
There’s nothing wrong with being dumb. Dumb Masculinity, remember those wordless days?
Despite having written it all down, I don’t know how I would explain it to another person. It’s like when you come from horrific, you are required to live a tumultuous life, in order to match it, in order for you adult self and your boy self to melt together again.
Otherwise, the lives won’t match up, a horrific boyhood trying to match with a mild path to adulthood. It won’t work. The adult has to understand, or the boy truly is lost forever.
I guess the lines: I come from horrific;
And: I’ve lived a tumultuous existence;
Will have to be enough for people, because when pressed that’s all I’m really going to say.
The Real world is shadows anyway, might as well only express in broad, shadow-like terms. Like Poetry, universal, non-specific, but absolutely enough.

__________

　
(Wednesday, 30JUN2010)

My natural clock has had me awake from about four in the afternoon to five in the morning, during which I workout once, and type up the notes the rest of the time, while keeping the television on.
My clock will change once I’m done catching up on the typing. I wonder about the television, how it’s keeping me from being in the world all the way.
That’s what I need when I write, seems like writing is the most unnatural thing in the world. If I were all the way in the world I wouldn’t have a word in my head.
The bisexuality hasn’t been true lately. When I sleep the dreams are invariably of women. I thought in the end it would be a choice, but I guess once you’ve learned whatever bisexuality has to teach you, you just move on.
I wonder what the writings will be like now, now that the figuring-out-how-to-live feels over.

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(Friday, 2JUL2010)

The weed teaches me things to make me more Brave, while my ignorance of those teachings is what makes me endearing: Dumb Masculinity.
How I wish for those days again.

__________


The tumultuousness was like a reality-video game I demanded. I demanded space between the House and my Real life. And in that space I acted like nothing I did was real, it was all just play, like let me see what it s like to be friends with these people, or what it s like to be in this storyline, just to experience it but not let it be relevant or a part of me or my identity.
It was like I was living a life that wasn t really mine so that I could answer questions I had.

That s the immature way of writing it. The mature way would be to say that all those moments were Real, and I cherish them and the companions I had a long the way, but still I am pure Him, soulfully untouched by those stories, soulfully the same.

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Took sixteen pills in the evening.

I just want to BE.
Since I ve been so reactive my whole life, I have a difficult time keeping the initiative. Maybe it s time to make another plan.

I thought all that was needed was for the mind to catch up with the body, but the body has trauma. It s physical. And I have to handle it responsibly.

My mind is learned, the words are written, but it s not working. When I wake in the morning I still wake to a 2D world instead of 3D.
The body learns through repetition and habit. I figure if I can acquire enough weed to last months relaxed I can teach the body that way.

I still don t see a humane life as sustainable. I still keep subconsciously assuming that the horrific will happen again.

I emailed Adam and he s more than happy to help me. The idea of me driving back up for the 4th of July weekend makes him happy. So I hit the road at two in the morning.

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I think about stopping by Washington D.C. on the way back .. experiencing it raging high, the memory and truths -- E__, in her nightgown, me surprised by her form -- that played out there practically beating me up I m learning them so fast, claiming them so fast.

It s important to hit the places I used to be.
Especially the places I went to with E__. The first night in the hotel in D.C. .. I could ve slept with her then. I just didn t because I wasn t registering it. She definitely was, stepping out of the bathroom in a nightgown, me laughing at her because she looked like a catholic school girl or a nun, while I knew her to be the beloved mistress of a wealthy once-celebrity.

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(Monday, 5JUL2010, Still at Adams's)

_ .. It s like how you take a test in school and you accidentally take a test far beyond your grade. You pass the test with flying colors, now unsure what to do next. Do you go back and take the smaller, more civilian-style class that would ve led you to the test, or do you trust that you know that stuff, even if the simpler terms are unrecognizable to you .. _

.. Those words have been my rock ever since I wrote them. In little situation after another I ll get anxious or uncertain and those words are the answer that resolves it. They re so true that when I trust them I trust myself and my body will feel so healed I almost think the healing process is over.

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