passing, just out of reach.

time, that is.  life.

the dream has faded…. except details.  Specifically the ball.

its yellow.  and the vending machine, it sells cigarettes.

but only marlboros and camels – because those were what he smoked…. i didnt remember that until it came to me a week later.

 

the funeral was something. an experience. 

it was a reunion and i was the outsider.  bad feelings were there, a muddle of people who were angry with me and hurt because our brother was lying in the other room, motionless.  only a husk really, a tree that looks normal on the outside, but on the inside – hollow.

I was fine until they opened the casket.  matt shot himself in the head.  im going to go into detail here – because I have to get this out of my head – skip to below the horizontal line if you dont want to read this.

I was standing in the expanded section of the funeral home, alone in a sea of men who knew me better than anyone else on this earth other than aryn.  everyone else was talking, and i saw the lid go up, and from where i was – i could see him.  the blond (nearly white) hair that was so thin that i remembered and can see now.  i couldnt even speak, i just remember saying "ahhhhhhh" and turning away. 

ultimately i went over.  his face below the nose was covered with a silk cloth.  here – i had one of those moments where i am seized by a wild urge that i am only barely able to fight down.  it scares me to think that this might be some insanity buried just below the surface.  i had to cover my mouth because i had began to laugh hysterically over an image that jumped to mind – i just wanted to grab a cowboy hat that he always wore and put it on his head and yell "yippie kiy yay motherfucker!"

Matt hadnt been found for several days.  he had make-up on his face, and gloves on his hand because the decay had advanced.  thouh the make-up couldnt cover up the fact that his ears and nose were black.

I lost it.  thats all i want to say about it. 

i had the feeling that if i touched him, that he would shatter into a million dusty pieces.

 

 

anyway…… other stuff.

we went out that night to a mcminemans (kind of a pike tradition for any special event) and celebrated matt.

then we went out in downtown portland and got shitfaced…… because its how we cope.

 

i dont have time for much else at the moment – but i have decided to start maintaining a written journal again – i need to write.  i just have to find the right journal now, one that fits.

 

i will try to update again tomorrow when i feel like continuing, but i just dont have the energy for it now.