Half blind, spitting straight into the wind. a story, by Joshua, 1/16/2017

  • half blind, spitting, straight into the wind, by yosh dow

    my car was towed at 3am that morning, i was very sick from drinking and taking other things the whole morning pushing overflown wheelbarrows of concrete around on single planks making a path throughout a muddy foundation

    on top of crying and whining and bawling because of the car ( and the not being able to see clutch that night ). no class, low-class, whatsoever, everything was hanging out all over the place. sheer absurdity. unbelievable.

    i made it through the work day with the promise of the retrieval of my Xanax RX, money, weed, concert tickets and ID recovered from the vehicle currently impounded. faked it enough to borrow a car from my angel of an Aunt, mothers sister.

    drove to Gettysburg , you know because it was”on the way” to lancaster, not really. not allowed to get near or in my impounded car at the dealers lot , my Subaru wagon, repossessed by the dealer for non-payment. no Xanax, no weed, no money, no concert tickets (show was sold out).

    i have one friend in lancaster (i hate pennsylvania) . i manage to track him down and get to lancaster, didn’t have my “meds” that day, regardless of my disease, i was on these things regularly to no avail so this sudden cease of dose was an incredible undertaking. so getting stoned on reefer amplified my situation and my feelers grew to excess. i was living through hell, a dank, swampy, swirly, buzzing, jungle like hell.

    so i held his couch down after i got to the chameleon club as early as i could to try and score a ticket from someone. spent my only borrowed 25$ within 5 minutes of being in line to a kind lady who had an extra ticket to spare.

    the only other time i had attended the “chameleon club” was in about 2002/03 and i was carried out the door for being a ‘mosh pit shark’, causing disturbance, etc –

    the club was very small, smaller than i remember. small in that whole, ‘the walls are closing in on me’ sense. that frozen but sweaty, stuck in the same position for over an hour rebound anxiety you get comfy with because you’ve got no other choice.

    they opened with immortal and the only thing i could really hear the whole entire set was the outlet of my own yelling and screaming over top the band . it was miserable

    it was spiritual , and it hurt


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