Dutch Courage

ten bucks says you don't have it in you
to conquer fear and quit believing what they tell you to
you are careening shamelessly into oblivion
you will live alone with your chemicals and gin

- Dutch Courage, The Spill Canvas


view of Sentinel Peak from Camp Whitsett, Sequoia National Forest, Tulare County, California (credit unknown)

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i started writing this a couple weeks a couple months ago. the first line was "i went camping a couple weeks ago." at least, it was before i erased it.

now it would more accurately have to say "i went camping like, 4 weeks ago 3 months ago, and i'm a fucking lazy ass so fuck you."

yeah, not in the best of moods lately.

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camping wasn't bad except for how i cracked my piece Thursday night, broke a big chunk out of the side of the bowl Saturday evening, and a few hours later had just a stem with some raggedy edges. and i was not having any luck with foil, or making a piece out of foil, or fashioning a bowl out of foil on the end of the stem...so fuckit. DXM again and more beer this time it is.

Spoiler: not the crack i wanted back.

i did a decent amount of DXM over the weekend, i mean at least decent amount for me. probably in the neighborhood of 600-700mg in two sessions, Sat night and Sun night. i made a sort of "trip log" for Saturday's retardedness, which has also been sitting here, unfinished in typing it up from my notebook, for what seems like forever. i'll finish it later. meh.

debating about whether i should take pics of the pages. i dunno; seems like it could be interesting but also seems useless and unnecessary at the same time.

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at any rate, that night after getting back to camp from my little adventure, my pipe broke the rest of the way. to be perfectly honest about it, i broke it. frankly i don't remember if i popped the section out or if it just happened, but the round-ish area the two cracks encircled? yep, gone. tiny thread of glass keeping the carb separate, but yeah, big gaping hole in the side of the bowl. reminiscent of the top of the Superdome after Hurricane Katrina. (see my earlier pic.) of course my dumbshit self decided after a little bit that trying to simply use foil to patch it so i could keep using it was just too practical and reasonable, so i smashed what was left of the bowl in my chamois strip for keeping cool in hot weather, until it looked like Hurricane Irma'd had its turn as well.

the rest of the trip really doesn't matter; more DXM, some tears, lots of lonliness, emotional overload, sleep (and even more lack thereof), alcohol. campfire. isolation. non-inclusion.

being high on DXM was actually preferable to being drunk...it gave me a desire to separate myself from the group, so i didn't cause any problems; being a dissociative it gave me a different way to exist and process than booze or dope; and i still got to be fucked up and only sort of aware of my internal reality and that to which i'd be returning when i got home, rather than sober and dwelling and miserable. being drunk i wouldn't have been sober (DUH), but i certainly would have been extra-miserable, probably extra-emotional (funny how the amplification effect works...), and would have still been too aware of reality to avoid dwelling. i kinda needed the mental fog.

the last night, Sunday night, got a bit crazy-ish kinda. earlier a bunch of us went to the Cascades, which is a sort of natural rock waterslide with little pools you can sit or even swim in here and there; afterward several of us continued playing in the lake, i kept teasing Walt and making jokes at his expense...i went to him later and specifically apologized; he nearly bit my head off as he snapped at me; his inability to let me make a sincere apology (and my feeling like i couldn't even do THAT right) set my emotions off...aaaand it kinda snowballed from there.

several hours later, Walt and Tammy told me they'd arranged for me to go home with Milton's brother Dan instead of with Walt like originally planned, so Walt could go a different way and see his aunt, and i just kinda lost it. it wasn't the details - actually i was happy about it; Dan had been going through a rather similar situation to me with his soon-to-be i believe now ex-wife, where she cheated on him with a friend, by some reports for a year and by others for two. i needed another perspective on these things; plus i've known Dan and Milton since i started high school 22 years ago, good friends.

no, what set me off was the idea that my life was no longer mine to plan, control, or dictate; the idea that decisions to be made that involved me didn't need my input, much less agreement or approval. like i was some 5-year-old child that had to be cared for and looked after and that people were responsible for. this wasn't some isolated incident, but rather just one in an increasing pattern going on in my life for the last several months, heck maybe even over a year at that time. from my ex, from my parents, from others still...

so yeah, hell, it set me off so bad i almost wouldn't have minded had everyone just left me behind in one of the most beautiful areas i'd been to since i was 8 or 10 years old, the last time i was in Yosemite. who cares about food, or shelter, or the fact that i can't fish to save my life let alone fend off a bear. just leave me the fuck alone, literally.

it was the straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back phenomenon; with losing Ted (another ex) as a best friend over a stupid accusation he still hasn't come to me, the accused, about; losing my job; losing Rod first twice to stupid arguments, then again temporarily while i focused on getting my life back together only to become immediately permanent when his true colors shone through, losing my dad in the middle, upheaval in my home life with everything, uncertainty about finances between my mom and me and where we'd be living, continued financial strain as major expenses popped up...and that's just the peaks, with so very much more day-to-day in the valleys and on the slopes...it was just the final straw, and i snapped.

i took care to make sure Tammy (and to a lesser extent Walt, though i wasn't talking directly with him at the time cuz i was still kinda pissed and hurt from earlier) knew that i wasn't mad about the arrangement, but that i wasn't consulted or anything, and that it wasn't because of this particular instance but as a result of a great build-up of events over the preceeding months...she had a bit of an idea (we're Facebook friends, after all, and i am quite the prolific poster when i'm upset or hurt or sad), but didn't really know, and when i tried to remove myself from the group-long-turned-threesome (not like that you pervs), and insisted that i wanted to be left alone and did not want to talk, she pushed her way in my tent anyway, and forcefully but kindly made sure i knew that i could talk to her, cry on her shoulder, even just sit in silence next to her if needed, without pushing and prying and being nosy about what i was dealing with internally.

(though she did, at one point, ask if she "needed to worry about" me, telling me that on the previous trip she was the one that people might have needed to worry about. she didn't elaborate, i've never asked, but the implication was drugs. i told her no, while surreptitiously trying to make sure my pipe was actually hidden from view by my pillow and sleeping bag, and safe from potential weight-bearing appendages that might be planted on the cot. awhile later she convinced me to come out and rejoin her and Walt...i reluctantly agreed.)

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most of the last section i wrote a long time ago. fuckit, cuz i forget where i was going with it. long story short, the ride home was good; took me over an hour to even really say anything, even just small talk, but once the three of us got to talking it was very cathartic and helpful. by the time we got back to our town and they dropped me off at home, i was in a much better mood than i had been all weekend.

i'm going to end things here; anything more i might have to say would really be best done in another post, at another time. so for now, hasta la pasta.