i was seventeen and cookie monster eyes were looking at a creek. i puked in the creek. i tried really hard to send the signal jumping around my brain to my feet, the signal saying, "step over the creek, step over the fucking creek, it's so thin, you can just step right over it, it's no big deal," completing bodily function. i stepped directly into the creek with the right foot of a thick skate shoe, following my fucked-up friends back home with a wet, soaked shoe.
i was twenty-two and halloween; i was blacked out at an apartment that punk band 'strung out' was playing at. don't remember a thing. got driven home by my straight-edge girlfriend just before the cops came, dressed as a fairy (wand and all) for the festivities. went home to bed, puked on the bedroom door. laid in bed, puked in bed, everywhere. got cleaned up by said girlfriend, clean clothes, clean sheets, put back in bed. puked all over bed again. girlfriend slept on couch and was very pissed. woke up and did laundry while listening to hip-hop group 'atmosphere'.
i was twenty-seven and with my brother, rolling to stimulants and rick ross to the casino for the night. i was up, then way down, lost about a hundred, went to bed with intentions to work with my brother in the morning. couldn't wake up. couldn't get up. got up at noon, puked in the sink, laid back down. got up an hour later, puked bile in the sink, mostly dry-heaved and tasting of aspirin, shitty dry white chemical. laid back down. got up an hour later, puked bile in the sink, mostly dry-heaved and tasting of aspirin. laid back down. felt ok by 5pm, went to a lobster buffet that i'd earned the night before by staying at the casino for over an hour.
i was twenty-eight and i went fishing on the pacific ocean with my father and my brother. i took dramamine to stave off sea-sickness, though perhaps i didn't take it early enough. quickly i was puking up my morning muffin, banana, coffee. then came water, then came air, bile, neurotransmitters. i puked 8 times, like, 8 rounds of heaves, that is. i did catch 4 fish, though, which was more than my brother or father caught. i felt great upon docking. we shared a lovely meal that night.
i was twenty-four and i was walking home from the bars, i separated my foot into 5 parts long-ways, and stepped on parallel cracks on each part of the foot separation. i swayed as i hiccuped, i looked up to find a restaurant reflection of a friend and a hunger of death, a racing heart that couldn't be felt. i puked in a bush, once, quick, maybe to say 'fuck you' to that drunk self, to deprive him of better sleep. the only swimming position is face down, still, pronated, at rest.
i was eighteen and it was christmas night, i did shots of vodka repeatedly at my brothers place in phoenix, to the point of blackout and boxing gloves. puked in a small trash can, puked under the pillow i was using. replaced those items one year afterward as a christmas present to my brother.
"as complicated as relationships with people are, relationships with chemicals are so much more complicated and tricky."
