I am composing this on my blog, trying to use proper verbiage, as if self consciously transcribing a letter that is going to be read.
Sunday, February 09, 2020
Saturday, February 08, 2020
Friday, February 07, 2020
I decided to try to do an hour of work around the house a day, cleaning, maintenance, or gardening, so I have been doing that since I got back and my roommate is happy about that. The house looks a lot better and I am ready to destroy the blackberries in the back and then rake the leaves off the lawn and try to get the lawn back into a decent mowed looking state. Then Bruce, the roommate, said he can help build some new raised beds, because the three that are out there now are in need of replacement.
Then I can get some planting going maybe, and replace the strawberries in the raised beds in front, and do a bunch of other shit. I cleaned up the garage for the first time in about year, so now I'm not surrounded by marijuana detritus.
Furthermore, John and Jon and I are going to start getting together weekly to jam. The name of our band is Mystic Zombie Prison of the Mind. Jon Tillis is an odd character, 57, who plays guitar and has a house full of amplifiers. He lives toward the coast in what formerly was the country but recently was built up, so he's surrounded by apartment buildings. His girlfriend Jodi and John and Jon have been jamming for a few years now, but I'm not sure what's going on with her. Jon just got out of jail again. He tends to get erratic when he gets manic, I hear.
Anyway, I have been driving down to see a dead jam on Thursday nights in Eugene. I recognize a lot of faces and people say hi to me, and they all seem to get along great. Some of it seems to be somewhat silly, as in people put a Grateful Dead skull on the back of their jacket so they can be part of a group or something. But the redeeming factor is that it is populated by some good musicians...and so it doesn't seem to get old. They play Viola Lee Blues a lot, Loser, Morning Dew, Gomorrah, Bird Song, Cats Under the Stars, Althea, After Midnight, Midnight Moonlight. Furthermore I got invited to a party. But I couldn't understand much of what the person was saying, so I might miss it.
With sincerest regards,
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 2/07/2020
Thursday, February 06, 2020
what in the world comes of the moments and seconds that progress while the fingers type out word? Hard to figure out much of anything these days. There was a large amount of reading involved in the trip back from Florida.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 2/06/2020
Monday, January 27, 2020
Friday, January 24, 2020
Having to type in my writing through a cell phone merely makes things harder, but at least I always have a phone with me these days. And nothing to type in. Just the silence and the long days going by with nothing to show for them. I live in silence, and there is not that much that can be done about that.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/24/2020
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Trading insults over text message is a total waste of my time. Most of my time seems spent on the couch, surfing the internet, looking for some data to fill in the immense loneliness that is my existence. I spend most of my time contemplating the silence, vaping nicotine endlessly, drinking coffee, feeding the cat treats, and otherwise keeping happy the cat.
It's a drag that I have such morons for friends, and the whole of humanity seems to have taken a different direction than I have. I don't understand where I'm supposed to be or what kind of thing I am supposed to do, and instead just end up watching a whole lot of television.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/21/2020
Friday, January 17, 2020
J: I was listening to a radio show about the underlying awareness of it all, and techniques for lucid dreaming, an eventual astral travel.
C: Shove it up your ass
J:The fuck is your problem?
You can't move on?
Be suck a prick about reality.
Your getting nowhere, but into the same old rut you created in the first place. I don't require negativity like yours to get by on a daily basis.
Snap out of it!
Just because I call3d you out for what I considered to be behaving as a gaslighter doesn't meant I think you are that way at all times.
You're the one whom said you don't need friends like me for a hole in the head.
C:I need friends that don't irrationally accuse me of being threatening. You didn't make the cut.
J:You need people to scrutinize your behavior when it's over the edge, and out of line. Otherwise you'd just be a tyrant. It's you who hasn't made the cut.
C:Shove it up your ass.
J:You've even given up on karate
I don't like your attitude these days.
Fact is I rarely likedit beforewhen you were acting some what sane.
C:Shove your sanity up your ass
J:Yeah, right, I'm the psycho here.
C:Yeah you've clearly showed that to be true.
J:You are acting irrational. Unreadonable. You sh9uld be ashamed. You're supposed to be the elder in this situation but you act like a thug.
C:I'm not the one making irrational accusations.
I really don't know what the fuck is wrong with your head.
J:You dwell in the negative. You're a bottom feeder.
C:Shove the negativity up your ass
I just find you mildly annoying. Beyond that I couldn't care less.
J:Everything becomes ugly with you involved lately. Your problem is you don't seem to have a conscience.
C:I don't take certain accusations lightly.
J:You are acting like a cocksmoker.
C:And the fact that you made them at all reflects badly on your rationality.
You're like a little child
I'm looking for friends, not head cases.
J:They weren't accusations. I actually experienced your modern opperandum as to being that of a gaslighter. Maybe you are hopelessly unable to get beyond it too.
There is a reason oeople don't get along with you Chris, and you are unfortunateley continueing to show as to why.
C:You were accusing me of shit which is not happening
J:Saying I'm lile a little child is gaslighting you fucking idiot. I give up on you. Fuck off.
C:I don't need that treatment.
Oh, now it's bothering you?
I really don't know what's going through your mind.
J:Then don't bring it upon yourself moron.
C:Shove it up your ass, angry bear.
J:You are going on in my mind. I said fuck off, and I meant it
C:Have a lousy day.
J:Youre the one who is angry and fearful. Demon possessed, and full of himself. It's like your mind never matured out of puberty.
C:You're delusional and irrational.
J:I'll have what ever day I make of it. Curse your own life fool.
C:Fuck you too
J:Delusional and irrational my ass. You're just bored and pathetic.
But bored and pathetic isn't a crime.
You are a disappointment.
You don't seem to even recall accurately the bullshit you were attesting to.
I don't appreciate the accusations.
J:You probably don't even know what a gaslighter was until I pointed it out to you. And that pissed you off. Serves you right for having the attitude to begin with.
C:I know what a gaslighter is.
I've never been a gaslighter.
J:I recal a fair enough to know that I'm tired of your winey woe is me attitude bringing others down. I tried to put a stop to it but you had to go and be an unresolved sinner.
I don't need people lime you in mu life either. Your fucked.
C:I guess we agree on that.
Go see a psychiatrist.
J:Your reccurent attitude is sorrowful. Go sully someone elseses day. And fuck the fuck off.
C:Yeah thanks for nothing
J:I tried to rectify tge situation but you were trying to make me apologize for calling you out on your bullshit, and so that was not going to happen.
Nothing would be me not trying
C:That's not what happened.
You made some wild accusations based on nothing.
Which makes me question your judgement in general.
J:I've put more into trying to round out your rough edges than you have to be sure. Your dad probably never had time to help you develope a decent personality. Either that; or he didn't do a very good job.
Judge not least though be judged
C:Your role seems to be that of insulting me in every way possible.
You're not making yourself look good.
My dad was a good guy. He's a good role model.
He wasn't going around insulting people.
J:Your shove it up your ass becavior called for it. If you werent such an asshole about things..,would've different, but they are not.
And I have a feeling they never will be. So give it up. Move on. Find someone else to leak your rotting puss to.
C:You're not giving me a good reason for your behavior.
J:Leave me alone.
C:This is going to make a great story.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/17/2020
Monday, January 13, 2020
Another long day of nothing, staring out of the window from the couch. I never leave, it seems, and the rain never stops falling. The cat goes outdoors now and then.💬💬💬💬💬💬
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/13/2020
Friday, January 03, 2020
Up late again, but not so late for me. Wondering what the facebook phenomenon will turn into. Wondering why I don't put subjects in my sentences. The brain waves that used to function in college seem to be long gone, replaced by the retained knowledge of typing and some long words. The cat is interested in the rain. Willie is singing Angel Too Far From the Sun. Each day seems much the same.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/03/2020
Tuesday, December 31, 2019
I drove down one Thursday and Jay and Token were up there playing Freedom and Viola Lee Blues. Boris played some songs and there was another decent guitarist. The songs were good and there was a young woman up front dancing insistently all night, and a few other people dancing around. There was a backup singer.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 12/31/2019
Abigail Disney is a billionaire that feels guilty about it. The New Yorker has an article on her. I drove down to Bodhi bakery today, and the weather was warmer than usual. They had several croissants left. I had an espresso.
I managed to play Althea and Fourth Street and several other songs yesterday.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 12/31/2019
Friday, December 27, 2019
1. My front door.
I look out on a lawn that I barely mow. It's all single story houses on my block, and there's a grade school across the way. I was standing out there and smoking, now I vape.
2.London, Pickadilly circus
Downstairs at the hotel we were at several years ago. I bought packs of cigarettes at the kiosks that had gruesome pictures on them, and were quite expensive. I was tearing off the filters at that time. People would set up tents at night on the cobblestones. There was a church across the way, and a Pizza Express on the ground floor.
3.Quebec City, Quebec.
The hotel was very nice, made of stone, in the old town. It was mostly below freezing. Everybody spoke French. I was vaping nicotine. There was a McDonalds up the way, and many fine espresso joints.
4.Florida. Port Charlotte
I'd stand next to the street, look at the canal and the colorful birds. I'd walk down to a bridge and back.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 12/27/2019
Wednesday, December 04, 2019
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 12/04/2019
Saturday, November 16, 2019
You know I'm only in it for the gold.
All that I am asking for is ten good dollars, and I could pay you back with one good hand.
I have no respect for the kind of life I am living. On the other hand physically I'm doing better, enough to do some cooking and jogging.
Don't you taste hard liquor, just a cup of cold coffee. Going to get up in the morning and go.
Like a field of sunflowers, a good poem should require no explanation.
Where is my money coming from? The Mechanical Turk isn't going to do it.
I feel like Kafka's Hunger Artist, only with considerably less morals. But the jogging is waking me up, and the stretching is worth doing.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 11/16/2019
Friday, September 06, 2019
Time passes on as NPR announces the changes in the world, and the world outside remains too hot. I am spending time typing out words, wondering if they will ever have a meaning. I write on, and the soul remains at a low energy level.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 9/06/2019
Saturday, February 16, 2019
Monday, January 21, 2019
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
In the Interzone watching the students study away. I don't want to go home because I'm paranoid, but there's no use staying either.
I feel my life may not last that much longer. I feel my physical issues are serious.
I barely have the energy to type out these words.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/15/2019
Sunday, January 06, 2019
Still dealing with Gordon in the garage. He thinks it's his space and that is that with him. Donna is freaked out. I feel like shit, no appetite or energy. This is the lowest I've ever been. I have to keep reminding myself that there's got to be a peaceful way out of this solution. I don't want any more arguing.
Tried and True has young women, so here I am all alone, but still perhaps could be in a worse position. The ability to live free in a free society is only accorded to people who's actions are okay over the long term.
I see a lot of desperation everywhere and don't want to make it worse, but just fade out peacefully.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/06/2019
Thursday, January 03, 2019
Boy, I sure know how to pick the roommates. Gordon was a friend I had played some music with, and I had hung out at his house in Blodgett in the coast range. He seemed to me to have some cool qualities. Some musical talent, somewhat of an amateur botanist, and an owner of a tiny house on a beautiful peace of land. I knew he was hermetic but also thought that was not necessarily a bad thing. Anyway, I had stopped calling him for quite a while because it seemed like he was criticizing me too much, but I called him again, it had been a year, and I brought him out some groceries to his place, and we smoked rollies and joints and talked about Summit people and music, and frankly I listened to him talk. He was selling his house, so I offered him a room in my house, and he seemed to think that was a good idea. I was like, great, I'll have a musical friend and he will distract me from the pit of depression I'm usually stuck in. I was also thinking he'd get along with the roommate I already had, Donna, a ex-massage therapist, 71, who was renting a room already. She had been there for four months or so, and she had a tendency to really get on my nerves, but for reasons that were harmless, like doing a lot of dishwashing, etc. So Gordon has a ton of shit moved into my garage, and I get back one day and he's moved his nearly dead cat in. The next day he goes in the garage and starts rearranging things, setting them up the way he likes them, like he owns the room. We find out that my mom doesn't want to smoke in the garage, and I tell him that, and he gets enraged. The next day I confirm with my mom that there's no smoking allowed, and get her on the phone, and he, instead of taking the phone, pretends like he's going to throw it. He insists on his way. He's not acknowledging who makes the rules. The next day I'm hoping that maybe I can give him his way on the smoking and there won't be anything more irrational about him. He wants a desk in a certain place and I decided to say that I don't want it that way, and he gets enraged and starts yelling and get up and shoves me off my chair, attacking me. I keep him off me and he sits down. I get up and say, "you just assaulted me, thirty days notice" I go into the living room, sit for about an hour, and he comes into the kitchen, and I come in and say, "Hey, Gordon, neither one of us wants to go to jail, etc" and he simply becoming enraged and slams the kitchen dhoor on me. So then I called the cops and told them what happened. They don't arrest him because it's his word against mine. Since then he's been escalating, he's remained enraged, shoved Donna, threw water at me, spit at me, informed me that he's dangerous. He's decided he owns the garage and is going to be there two months even though he hasn't paid any rent. He's just trying to screw me over any way he can, I guess. It didn't have to be this way. We're trying to get him out on a 7 day eviction notice. But if he becomes more dangerous or assaults me again, we'll look at a 24 hour notice.
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 1/03/2019
Wednesday, December 12, 2018
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
But wherefore to the mountain-top
can this unhappy woman go,
whatever stars is in the skies,
whatever wind may blow?
full twenty years are past and gone
since she (her name is Martha Ray)
gave with a maiden's true goodwill
her company to Stephen Hill;
and she was blithe and gay,
while friends and kindred all approved
of him whom tenderly she loved
Posted by Christopher Farrell at 4/25/2017