so then.
how many times a day do you have to remind yourself that no two experiences are exactly the same? and how many times a day are you then proven wrong? emperical knowledge is overrated. (is that even how you spell emperical? or is it imperical? someone set me straight...)
if i ever get sick of new orleans or the bar scene, all i have to do is drag my ass to somewhere completely opposite. like my hometown in kentucky. and then spend a week or so there. and then i am joyous when i return. see, my home town is situated on the very buckle of the bible belt; the southern baptist part, even. so it's dry. dry as a bone for an hour and a half in any damned direction. you can't buy alcohol in resturaunts, stores or bars- well, there aren't any bars. and of course it's not just the alcohol.
i haven't gotten evil looks this severe since the religious right paraded through the gay part of bourbon on lundi gras and pelted me and mel with pamplets while we were kissing in the street... ha.
i mean, i'm not that wierd-looking. no tattoos, only one piercing on my face, no dyed hair, no shaved head, no all-out bondage gear on trips to the grocery... mel has more shit in her face, more tattoos, but she's not exactly a candidate for the circus sideshow, you know. it'd be funny, except that i've always looked like this, and i did live here for 18 years, and i've always been treated this way. ... mel, too. you think they'd get used to it. yet when we come home- oh god, it's the FREAK SHOW!
mel isn't here, though. she's back in texas. i've been hanging out with her twin sister jules, though. my other best friend from highschool, and the only other person from highschool i still talk to. she just got back from visiting mel in texas, though, and had pictures to show me of us three in new orleans last mardi gras. it made me miss being around them. a lot. seeing the pictures of us three together, and how happy we were. and it reminded me of how connected we are. how we look after each other. how when we're together, it's the most natural and right thing in the world. it's how life's supposed to be.
and i'd give anything to have them with me. to keep them safe. we've all always been very protective of each other. me and mel would fight in highschool, beat each other senseless just to get something out. but if anyone else so much as looked at her wrong, i'd have killed them. and the same goes for her. and jules, well- i can remember chasing off some stalker kid with a fish-gutting knife, and mel and i driving all over the damned county looking for her when she was missing one day. and when i was in the mental hospital, mel called everyone she knew and people she didn't know, trying to track me down. and when mel was in therapy and sick to death of it, i bought her a plane ticket and stole her away to new orleans one fourth of july, and she got in trouble with her outpatient doctor because of it. and a million other times. and a million more to come. and i'd die for them. without thinking. i wouldn't have to- i don't have to.
so those are my friends. and every time i'm here i can't help but think of them. that's why it's always bittersweet. i don't belong here, mel doesn't belong here, jules needs to get the hell out because she doesn't, either. we'll never be happy here. but at the same time, this is our home. and we do belong. no matter how anyone looks at us or thinks of us. no matter, we grew up in these mountains, in these woods. it's a part of us, a part of the story. so i always come home. and i always leave. return to new orleans or go off wandering. just to get someplace else. anyplace but here. but. i always come back. i think a lot of folks feel that way about their home towns.
but being here reminds me. of mel, and the fact that she's not here. she's not with us, me and jules. and i'll go home and neither of them will be with me. and every single day that they're not with me, i feel a distinct absence. something in my heart that's not there anymore. and i look forward, i hold on, i stick around this dying, rotting, worthless life because of them, and for the day when we'll all be together again, for good.
how many times a day do you have to remind yourself that no two experiences are exactly the same? and how many times a day are you then proven wrong? emperical knowledge is overrated. (is that even how you spell emperical? or is it imperical? someone set me straight...)
if i ever get sick of new orleans or the bar scene, all i have to do is drag my ass to somewhere completely opposite. like my hometown in kentucky. and then spend a week or so there. and then i am joyous when i return. see, my home town is situated on the very buckle of the bible belt; the southern baptist part, even. so it's dry. dry as a bone for an hour and a half in any damned direction. you can't buy alcohol in resturaunts, stores or bars- well, there aren't any bars. and of course it's not just the alcohol.
i haven't gotten evil looks this severe since the religious right paraded through the gay part of bourbon on lundi gras and pelted me and mel with pamplets while we were kissing in the street... ha.
i mean, i'm not that wierd-looking. no tattoos, only one piercing on my face, no dyed hair, no shaved head, no all-out bondage gear on trips to the grocery... mel has more shit in her face, more tattoos, but she's not exactly a candidate for the circus sideshow, you know. it'd be funny, except that i've always looked like this, and i did live here for 18 years, and i've always been treated this way. ... mel, too. you think they'd get used to it. yet when we come home- oh god, it's the FREAK SHOW!
mel isn't here, though. she's back in texas. i've been hanging out with her twin sister jules, though. my other best friend from highschool, and the only other person from highschool i still talk to. she just got back from visiting mel in texas, though, and had pictures to show me of us three in new orleans last mardi gras. it made me miss being around them. a lot. seeing the pictures of us three together, and how happy we were. and it reminded me of how connected we are. how we look after each other. how when we're together, it's the most natural and right thing in the world. it's how life's supposed to be.
and i'd give anything to have them with me. to keep them safe. we've all always been very protective of each other. me and mel would fight in highschool, beat each other senseless just to get something out. but if anyone else so much as looked at her wrong, i'd have killed them. and the same goes for her. and jules, well- i can remember chasing off some stalker kid with a fish-gutting knife, and mel and i driving all over the damned county looking for her when she was missing one day. and when i was in the mental hospital, mel called everyone she knew and people she didn't know, trying to track me down. and when mel was in therapy and sick to death of it, i bought her a plane ticket and stole her away to new orleans one fourth of july, and she got in trouble with her outpatient doctor because of it. and a million other times. and a million more to come. and i'd die for them. without thinking. i wouldn't have to- i don't have to.
so those are my friends. and every time i'm here i can't help but think of them. that's why it's always bittersweet. i don't belong here, mel doesn't belong here, jules needs to get the hell out because she doesn't, either. we'll never be happy here. but at the same time, this is our home. and we do belong. no matter how anyone looks at us or thinks of us. no matter, we grew up in these mountains, in these woods. it's a part of us, a part of the story. so i always come home. and i always leave. return to new orleans or go off wandering. just to get someplace else. anyplace but here. but. i always come back. i think a lot of folks feel that way about their home towns.
but being here reminds me. of mel, and the fact that she's not here. she's not with us, me and jules. and i'll go home and neither of them will be with me. and every single day that they're not with me, i feel a distinct absence. something in my heart that's not there anymore. and i look forward, i hold on, i stick around this dying, rotting, worthless life because of them, and for the day when we'll all be together again, for good.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
I know what you mean about not looking too strange but still being treated like you look so different for some reason.
Thank you for the sweet wishes once again.
"a series of altars and print little cards to go with them, that people can take. like saint cards, if you ever had those growing up."
Very cool! Altars to who?