Why I Committed Suicide (23 page)

Dad and I did get to go to Milwaukee a couple days ago and visit Adam. His coffee shop is really cool and it kind of reminds me of the Karma Kafe except Adam’s place is more cluttered and has detailed artwork in surprisingly hidden places. I think the art makes it cooler. I went to use the restroom and even the doorknobs were intricately hand painted with bizarre frescos. Shit like that. We all went out and had beer and vegetarian pizza and spent the night in his rundown apartment. I say run-down in a good way though. There’s nothing like a road trip to make you appreciate the dirty gothic beauty of old architecture.

Adam and I forced dad to watch “Ren and Stimpy” videos, which he was surprisingly tolerant of. It’s weird to watch how people behave when they realize they’re completely out of their element. I found one of my letters and collages among Adam’s clutter of film stuff and that made me happy. I never know if anyone saves or even reads the junk I send their way. I learned long ago that I’m a pack rat but I also like to be clean. So instead of throwing out any stuff that’s kind of cool, I’ll just mail it along to someone else. That way the other person has the liberty of throwing it away or holding onto it for eternity and the pressure is off of me. Adam and I seem to live in the same type of environment. I asked him to write to me more often.

We saw “great” Lake Michigan; it looked dangerously huge and very cold. I also set out in search of the fabled cheap beer that I heard lives up in the heart of brew land. When I finally found a beer store, after much effort, the prices weren’t any better than at home so I ended up saying “fuck it”. I don’t really care for beer that much anyway.

Last night I went out with Michael and Leann in St. Paul to eat at one of their friend’s houses. I had a really good time. Their friend is a roommate with this speed freak who’s in a band with Steve Albini. Steve Albini is the guy who produced Nirvana’s
In Utero
album and I was visibly impressed even though the guy just went in his room and slammed the door, probably to do more speed. We cooked and ate a huge Italian meal with fresh herbs, wine and French bread. Even the table was formally set with candles and the works. My brother brought along a bottle of nice scotch and some wine so I tried to get really drunk but wasn’t too bad off. I brought some pot along with me but I was hesitant to smoke it because one of my distant cousins was also there and everyone else was a lot older than me. My brother said it would be ok though so I smoked a nice bowl with the host and a few other people around the table. They acted like it was a big deal for someone to share their weed with strangers and it was only later that I found out from my brother that marijuana costs $65 a quarter up here for crappy schwag!

Later Michael showed me the house he’s bought and the music studio he’s setting up in the basement, which I thought was badass. We were both more than a little sauced by that point and I felt bad because I knew he had to get up early and go to work the next morning. I think I prompted him to drink a little more than he was used to, I know
I
drank more than I was used to.

Right now, I’m staying at my other Grandma’s house in St. Paul. This grandma and I have never really quite clicked, I suspect it’s because I’m just a grandkid by marriage and she hardly ever sees me. Still, she usually sends $2 (for a drink?) and some slippers for Christmas every year and that’s something I guess. I’m sleeping in the basement of her old house. For some reason, all the houses up here have basements and when I was a kid I used to be scared to death of being down here. It’s still kind of creepy but I like sitting away from everyone else in the house and there’s a tiny black and white TV so I can watch something besides news and “60 Minutes”. The little kids are scared of the basement so I get to stay pretty isolated and write a little bit while I’m self-sequestered down in the dungeon.

Minnesota is nice. I think I could get used to being housebound all winter. It might serve to stimulate the creative juices. I’ve noticed that while it’s warm during these summer months everyone is always doing something active all the time. I think it’s because they know in the back of their mind that winter is imminent and there’s only a short window to get it all in. The constant heat and year roundnice climate in Texas just makes everyone slowwww and more relaxed with their time. When you know it’s going to be nice again tomorrow, why bother to hurry through today? That’s just my personal theory though.

Man my head is spinning so much lately. Jenifer’s new apartment out back is good
and
bad. Sex with her has re-intensified thanks to Jenifer being more comfortable and free spirited in her own home. She’s more sensual with an aggressive twist, free to cry out or indulge while we’re fucking, having sex or making love. There is a difference between the three terms, not to mention the various pleasurable subsets in each category, which we’ve enthusiastically explored. Without fear of intrusion and interruption the world simply becomes her and me (and sometimes Superlover, that randy devil).

Despite all the creative draining, life goes on with each day bringing about its simple joys. I’m so amazed we haven’t gotten sick of each other yet and I think Jen is sometimes puzzled about that paradox as well. We eat a lot of parmesan pasta, leftover pizza and we’re helping keep Sprite and Snapple in business. I smoke a lot of pot and she smokes a lot of cigarettes and we both force our music on each other in a romantic mind-melding sort of way. It’s all a big extension of the “
I don’t know where you end and I begin”
phenomenon. We still drive RedOne everywhere and sometimes it seems like the days go by too quickly for us to properly appreciate them.

My pot plant, which I had to transport to the backyard due to size constraints, is flourishing with fat juicy buds out by the skate ramp and awaiting harvest. I’m happy about so much, aggravated by so little and appreciated by one.

Jenifer’s stopped doing any cocaine now because of me, which reaffirms my love for her. One of my first nights back from Minnesota we christened her apartment with lots of cocaine and anticipated sex. Guess which idea was mine and which was hers? She ended up having another seizure. This one was even worse than the one before and it scared me so much. One minute we were flirting and sexually serious, shooting up and laughing about how my dick gets soft after a bump and the next minute she was convulsing so hard I couldn’t even hold her down on the bed as her body flung itself around in a sick series of spasms. I knew more about what to do this time since I had researched about cocaine overdose and seizures in the UNT medical library after what happened before, but it wasn’t much help in the heat of the moment. Oh God, I was so scared again. When the seizures stopped she just lay there unconscious for the longest time, so fucking long that I was preparing for the worst. Visions of our brief life together flashed through my eyes, I was wondering and panicking about how I would tell her Mom that I had betrayed and destroyed her most wondrous creation, while I shouted Jenifer’s name over and over, hoping for any sign of life and clarity from her frail body.

When she finally awoke it got even worse. She just suddenly came to life disoriented and was fiercely fighting as if she had been trapped in a nightmarish hell the whole time she was out. It really spooked me seeing her awake but not aware and I kept trying to hold her close to me until it all passed but one of her fists caught me hard in the jaw and she went for my eyes with her fingernails. I decided constraint might not be a wise action at that point so I just watched to make sure she didn’t hurt herself until everything calmed down, praying she didn’t have any brain damage.

Jenifer calmed down eventually
(thank you God!)
and when she was “normal” again with no recollection of anything happening, again, I freaked out on her. I was crying and shaking and trying to explain what kind of fucked-up shit I had just gone through to the only other person who was there. I felt so small, so powerless, flinching from her condolences and assurances that she was ok.
Lord, do anything you want to me, but please don’t hurt her, don’t take her away, okay?

After it happened, I knew if she didn’t stop craving the sweet rush, she was going to die. I sat down and explained it to her the next day as gently as I could. I explained how I would never ask her to place any kind of limits on herself because of me, I told her how I loved her for her spirit and independence as much as anything and also how uncomfortable and worried I was because of her. Like a businessman handing in his resignation over a disagreement about an immoral company policy I told her that I was going to have to break up with her. Oh it sounds so shallow to say it that way and it really ripped me up to even
have
to say it. It hurt me to merely vocalize a vision of us being apart, but I had to convey to Jen that I love her too fucking much to be here and watch her die. I told her that if she continued shooting coke the way she was that she
will
eventually
die,
and that I couldn’t handle being around when it happened. It isn’t my place to restrict her and as painful as it was, I told her I was going to have to leave. Maybe I wasn’t being fair to her because I know a lot of the fault and same desires are inside of me too, but some kind of confrontation had to happen and luckily it worked out for the best. Both of us were blubbering towards the end and I imagine I looked pretty pathetic to her with snot running out of my nose and big puffy eyes, unable to even look at her face as I said the hardest words I ever had to say.

Everything has turned out okay though, she was moved by the depths of my emotion and held me to her chest, kissing me so softly and promising never to do it again while her salty tears rained gently into my hair. My body was trembling, so scared of losing her again in a different way, by my own hand. When I stopped shaking in her arms we sealed our recommitment to each other by letting the tenderness become needful lovemaking. So I’m joyous and happy today and I can only hope this is finally behind us now.

We are visiting the mountain state of Colorado in all its glory. I’m anticipating a week of hiking and laziness amongst the majesty of the Rocky Mountains. I’ve wanted to use the word majesty to describe the mountains since having the lyric “purple mountains majesty” permanently imbued in my brain as a youngster. I’m so excited to show Jenifer the cabin and the wonders it holds that inspired my enthusiasm for Colorado. I already called James months ago and his exact words were “you are more than welcome to use it for as long as you want, you can stay inside and fuck all day if you like.” He swears that his parents don’t mind and even though his older brother Dirk is supposed to be there with his wife Natalya we can do whatever we want because he made plans for us to be there long before them. Basically all we’ve planned is a little hiking and camping around the continental divide. I’m really just excited to be on the road again.

James’s brother Dirk is one of my childhood heroes even though I doubt he knows the extent of his inspiration to me and James while we were growing up. He’s always represented the free spirit of the Patterson family to us even though he’s settled down in recent years, proving even a rogue can make good. I doubt he’s ever even had a clue about the number of creative childhood inspirations his left-behind belongings had for us. He’s the liberal-minded distant brother to the both of us, who’s always seemed to tolerate our youthful eagerness for tales of his adventures.

We left this morning in no particular hurry with a little pot, some good tunes and a few crushed dilaudids to snort on the way. Jen and I get along famously and I still believe our infatuation with each other is growing. To see her spirit soar with release after months of tedium is exciting for me to watch. We even stopped the car at a rest area early on to have a quickie that was cheap, tawdry and wonderful. It started snowing.

Unfortunately, I am writing this while RedOne is broken down on a mountain road about 40 miles from the cabin in Lake City. I’m not worried though because we’re almost there and a quick call to Dirk should get some help on the way soon. As soon as we can find a phone of course…

Jesus said to him,
“Truly I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.”
Peter said to him, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And so said all the disciples.—Matthew 26:34-35

Something strange is going on up here in Colorado. We’ve met lots of eccentric small town mountain people who have been super friendly, but Dirk and Natalya are acting super pompous, which is very disconcerting. I feel betrayed by them, mostly because they’ve finally offended Jen’s easy going nature, which really hurts me. Maybe I should begin where I left off the other day, just after the car broke down.

After we were stuck in the mountains, we hitched a ride back to the nearest town, which is called Creede. You can still hitchhike up here in Colorado because there is a minimum of psychos I guess, and because we had no other choice, it was the best way to go. When we found a phone I immediately called the cabin, told Dirk we were stranded and in trouble and asked if he could come pick us up since we were headed to the cabin where he was at anyway. It was only a few hours away, it was already freezing and we needed help. He knew we had no place else to go and even over the phone I could tell he felt like I was imposing on him by asking for help which struck me as odd because his family always taught me to bend over backwards to help people when they are in trouble. He finally said to give him about 4-5 hours to get his stuff together and then he would come pick us up. 4-5 hours!? What the hell, I’m practically family right!? I gave him the benefit of the doubt though, thinking maybe he was presently engaged in an important activity that demanded his immediate attention, even if we really needed emergency assistance. Turns out I was wrong.

Jenifer and I ended up meeting the Sheriff for the area who had passed our car on the road and since we were the only unfamiliar faces in his town, he correctly assumed it was ours. I normally hate all cops, but he was the nicest old fella I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet. He was cooler than cool, sort of like the Marlboro man. The Sheriff arranged to get our car towed and introduced us to the only mechanic in town, a shade-tree grease monkey who was really busy, but the Sheriff used a personal favor to vouch for us and get our car into the shop right away. The mechanic was a little rough around the edges but after we told him were in college he warmed up to us and started asking me all kinds of questions about college football, which I know absolutely nothing about, but I tried to wax hip to what he was saying. Even though it was Jenifer’s car, he kept talking to me about the Cornhuskers and cars. It made me damn proud to be in America where theonly requirement for acceptance is a little football knowledge, an American car and a woman on your arm to confirm your heterosexuality.