Been a little busy, in a good way!


I’ve been writing short stories about people with mental illness. Concentrating on characters who just happen to be ill and making them as identifiable as possible.

It’s important to me that these characters could be anybody. Not a stereotype or diagnoses, just a person going through a phase or situation.

My purpose is to help chip away at the stigma that is out there about those of us with BiPolar or Schizophrenia or depression and the list goes on…

I don’t want it to read like the PDA, but rather as a glimpse into someone’s life. There will be some triggering and tragic instances, but also some simple one. Which to a person without anxiety would be a simple task. But for those of us with anxiety, it’s a major undertaking.

There is a Writers’ Conference at Rutgers University I wish to attend. But money is an issue. When isn’t it when it comes to living on a very limited budget. I have to have the money for the conference and the money to get to and from the train. I’ll be taking a bus, to a train and then Lyft. Unless I can get enough to just take Lyft there and back, that would be heaven.

This is my mission and my dream. To get this book finished and attend this conference in June. Either way, I am writing this book.

The conference would put me in contact with publishers and fellow writers and give me a peek into what it takes to get your work out there. To find out if there is a market for my book or would I be creating one. I realize that I need to attend this conference in order to get a better understanding of what I intend to accomplish. In real terms and not just as a dream.

So, if you’re still reading. Please consider helping me attend this conference by clicking the link and hopefully contributing to my cause. Even if you don’t contribute a comment would be nice. We have to support each other and not be ashamed of who we are, and remember that our illness does not define us.

Thank You.

Donate to help me attend the conference, CLICK HERE.

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Is it weakness


Second treatment for  bronchitis, I’ve been going through. Pills that you have to eat with and I don’t like eating 3 times a day. I try light meals, but need protein etc. to keep my stomach from hurting.

To think, all this weakness and phlegm and headaches and body ache. Are because I traveled to a high volume public area. I’ve been into the city and didn’t get this sick. Penn Station in NJ is a toxic farm. I saw roaches and it smelled and you didn’t really want to sit down. But I had a long wait. Somewhere in there and the train and the bus, I caught this shit.

I was exhausted and in massive pain, after I got home. Made me wonder about all the traveling I use to do without incident. And how now I feel so weak and old and I’m not even fifty yet.

I’ve got to crawl back into bed.

Basquiat is haunting me


 

basquiatmovieposter

 

 

I saw the movie Basquiat (movie link) this week. And I guess seeing it while reeling with bronchitis is not a good idea. I was doing my own trip. My thoughts turned from doing heroin, too living in bohemia. Thinking what the hell was I doing in college when all “THIS” was going on and why wasn’t I part of it. Because you chose college stupid and were too young. Only by seven years.

Basquiat (artist’s site) was an artist during the eighties. And a line from the movie is haunting my mind. I see surfing in the skies and I wonder, ‘what year is this?’ when I still see racism.

I think the bohemian lifestyle appealed to me the most. I would love to walk down the streets in my pajama’s. To seriously not give a shit and to do as I felt, without hurting anyone, but just because I was moved by the moment.

I want to write or polish my short story. I finished one and my grammar sucks. It’s been so long since the fourth grade. But that shouldn’t stop me. There’s a book in me. I feel these stories, my mind is churning with characters and scenes and dialogue and I do nothing.

Am I lazy? Right now I’m just sick. So I’ll concentrate on that and get over this right now. I keep looking for distractions from being caught up in my illnesses. When one stares me right in my face, one I love. If not now, when? Maybe never.

No one I’ve shown my short story too doesn’t like it and they’re not just being nice. I have asked them for only negatives. I’ve gotten some and went back and made changes. I even managed to write a short paragraph to add to the story. I need to fill in some spaces with more descriptive writing, but I can do that.

Part of me wants to jump onto the next story, but I need this one to feel complete.

And a course on grammar.

Still working on bronchitis, head not too clear. Still seeing surfers in the skyline and smiling.

The Blackest Wings


 

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I felt the blackest wings attach to my back this morning

I awoke with them, rose out of bed and felt them flutter

Heaviness, burden and foreboding

 

Warrior wings of archangels, now were mine

Not to possess, I knew that.

 

They had brought me a message

 

Something soon would approach

Something as heavy as those wings

Those invisible wings that I could feel, yet not see

For they were cloud like, pitch black smoke

 

I carried these wings for three days

Each day, they became lighter

The darkness fading, but still attached

 

They are with me now,

Protecting me and aiding in the battle ahead.

 

Their appearance confused me

But now I understand

My body is at war with itself

And I take my Vorpal Sword in Hand.

 

DIH 01/09/16

Tightrope


Tightrope

Smile the widest smile and laugh the loudest

Give until it hurts, because it will hurt

it always hurts.

Joke about your past mistakes and losses

Lighten the mood.

Slip in a true feeling, a simple one, ever so slightly, the smallest utterance.

So no one will notice.

Can’t be caught with emotions exposed

For they will rip them and tear them from you like a slaughtered lamb

And we can’t have that.

Never expose the true pain

Numb it with alcohol, pills, work

and hours of sleep.

Hide it inside, the raw feelings, failures and losses

About to burst.

Let no one see, let no one know

Lest it all goes… poof.

DIH 12/09/15

‘Tis Holiday Seasonal Disorder Time


‘Tis Holiday Seasonal Disorder Time

The sun sets sooner
The feelings dredge deeper
The scars resurface and the pain twinges in my head

These are the months of forced happiness and joy

Of family and money and abundance
For those who have it
Serving only as a reminder
For those who don’t

A staple in my foreskin
That I have none of these.
Happiness, family or joy
My dwelling echoes
reminds me I am alone

each sound resonates its hallow presence.

Time for forced smiles or selfies
Gifts wrapped in debt
Time to mingle amongst family and pretend you have a life.
Tables overflowing with meals slaved over in hot kitchens
For stressful family gatherings of suppressed anger.
Snow falls and we smile
Childhood memories of snowmen glint in our eyes.

While shovels full of the stuff
Pull our back muscles to spasms of pain.

This poems a downer

Where is the Joy of the Season?
Where is baby Jesus?
Where is my Xanax?

The Dark Days approach

And the sun sets sooner
And the food is abundant
And gluttony is king.

‘Tis the season to be greedy
‘Tis the season to be forgotten

‘Tis Holiday Seasonal Disorder time
Now, smile for the camera

10/25/15

DIH

Eyes – Singular


It is my position to decree that the world will not be ruled by

me.

What if the world was ruled by those with one eye

There would be one eyed rallies and marches

Demonstrating in Times Square.

Holding up their banners of the SINGLE EYE.

While those of us with TWO eyes

hide and cowered in the shadows, hoping to be ignored

Knowing that if it weren’t for that damned eye

We could be like everyone else.

There would be a one eyed President

And World Renown Recording Artist

Lady One Eye.

Whose songs and posters are everywhere.

And who’s followers are called “Little Cyclopses”

While those of us with TWO eyes

Live in ghettos and eat what we can find.

Until some liberal one eyed decides to throw us a crumb.

So the government sets up a system too keep us down,

Yet keep us fed.

So we can work and go to school and live

But never be equal to the

Mighty One Eyed.

Our houses will never be as grand

Our clothes never be as posh

But we survive, those of us with two eyes.

Until they open up the Grand You Can Be Like Them Surgical Mall

Where for a large fee, you can have your second eye ‘plucked’ from your head

And wear an eye patch and at least ‘feel’ like a ONE EYE.

Or you can just wear the eye patch and hope you don’t get caught.

Those of us who can never afford the Malls

Will creep into the back alley’s and take a red hot poker to ourselves

Just to belong, we will sear out our eye.

Just to have a chance at a life without ridicule, judgement

bigotry and poverty.

To have a chance to be educated and just to dream without

playing the EYE card.

Imagine being a child in a ONE EYED WORLD

Looking in the mirror everyday and thinking,

damn my depth of vision.

Why do I have two eyes?

It has to be realized that one eye or two

I am still human.

That with one eye or two

I still matter.

That with one eye or two

I still have a voice

And dreams I wish to fulfill.

What does a one eyed person think when they wake up in the morning?

Ahh, look at the sky,

It’s so blue and the grass smells with dew.

What is next, what shall I do?

Well damn, I think that way too.

DIH

09/01/2015

When it comes


WHEN IT COMES

Will I be awake
When it comes

Will I be receptive
When it comes

Will it be too late
If it comes

Years of my life have past and I’ve never known it

A fluttering heart, a short breath, butterflies in my stomach

Attraction, chemistry

But only fleeting and never acted upon.

I have had one chance at its arrival
Naive and scared, I pursued it
And failed

So I ran from the possibility
Not sure of the signals and feelings of the one involved
I ran

Never knowing passion
Never knowing lust

No orgasmic trips into pleasure
And I have tried many times.

More failure.

What am I missing?
What am I doing wrong?
Is it ALL me?

Time is growing shorter and I am still waiting.

Am I foolish?
Am I still naive at almost 50?

Part of me wants to close the doors
Lock the knees and give up
I’ve been listening to this voice
I think it’s true.

I missed it
When it came
And I have never cum.

DIH 08/5/2015

Nothing too see here, move along


I rip me to shreds
On a permanent basis

Leave nothing but flesh and soul and pain

Not loving yourself is easy
When no one loves you

Dreading the evenings
Because it always brings tears
’cause the loneliness never ends

The list begins:
I hate you, you’re ugly, look at those thighs
I’m lonely, I’m crazy and alone I will die

When I look in the mirror, I duck
physically dodge my own reflection
scared, terrified and invisible

Nothing to see here, move along.

Dih
6/2015