You’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone (and Other Lies)

It’ll get meaningful by the end, but what you’re gonna read up to that point is stupid as fuck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I hate the feeling of BEING IN TROUBLE, especially for something that felt light-hearted. Brandon said he and Nick meant to take Callie’s pumpkins the other night but took another route home and forgot. 

“You wanna go get ‘em now?” I asked. “Sure,” he said. But then Amanda said Brandon wasn’t allowed to go, but I could. So I did. 

This is all for the BIRTHDAY PUMPKIN tradition, by the way. (Abridged explanation: it goes back to our teenage years, it’s basically just wrecking some leftover Halloween pumpkins; METHODS VARY).

I just got one of Brandon’s notoriously incomprehensible voice-to-text messages. I think he’s complaining about having to RETURN THE FUCKING PUMPKIN. Which makes no sense. WE’VE TAKEN CALLIE’S PUMPKINS BEFORE and it’s never been an issue. Why is this a fucking thing? And why is he giving me grief on my birthday for doing what he suggested I do?

I just made a video to promote the market I’m at this morning. I tagged the organizer but now I’m worried they’re gonna NOT LIKE IT ‘cause I said the word “fuck.” Granted, that hasn’t ACTUALLY happened but…

People are fucking squares and I’m NOT OPTIMISTIC about today, personally or professionally. The plan was Brandon and Amanda’s tonight (FOR BIRTHDAY) and now instead of that (or seeing ANYONE) I kinda just wanna isolate in a parking lot for the night.

I’m not TOTALLY BUMMING. It’s not cause for DEEP DESPAIR like it maybe woulda been in years past. But I’m feeling like “fuck everyone else in the world.”

My birthday’s not some precious thing to me. That’s why I booked this Tuesday morning market for today, even though it meant (1) I’d have to get up at 6am and (2) I’d likely spend three hours of my day on the manual labor of setting up and breaking down for very little financial return. (It’s a new market and this is bizarre scheduling so I’m not expecting much turnout). But on a Tuesday morning (even one that happens to be my BIRTHDAY) what else am I gonna do? The opportunity-cost (and fee) are low enough that it’s worth doing. 

So far, I’m enjoying being out here, painting and listening to punk rock, but I just started thinking about how I miss having A PERSON — and how my last person just yesterday flew across the country to go into rehab again. And then I started thinking about nurturing sick relationships. (Not with her; just in general). And THEN it occurred to me that I could use today and no one would ever know. AND I DOUBT I’M GONNA but I HAD THE THOUGHT.

It’s later now (5pm? 6?). Brandon asked if I’m coming over. (Not when, but if). I asked if he REALLY returned that pumpkin or if I got his message wrong. He said he did, so that Amanda “wouldn’t get pulled into PUMPKIN DRAMA.” [that emphasis is my own]. I said, “I don’t know why there’d have been drama and I definitely don’t know why Amanda would get pulled into it but okay.”

He didn’t call and say, “Let’s not stress it; it’s your birthday. Let’s just have a good time.” He texted back: “if you wanna argue about it, maybe it wouldn’t be a good birthday dinner.”

So I just thumbs-upped that shit and I’m not going. Was tempted to say, “OKAY SEE YOU IN DECEMBER” but it’s a sicker move to just let them both (eventually) realize they’re not gonna see me for (at least) 5 weeks now.

Apparently, Amanda bought pumpkins today, but you’d have to fucking pay me to use those as birthday pumpkins after this dumb bullshit. “Birthday pumpkin” is fucking done forever as far as I’m concerned. It was already sorta embarrassing and this was the fucking nail in the coffin of that tradition.

It’s dark now (9pm). I’m not gonna use (obviously). I’m just gonna fix the hot water and then get something to eat FOR THE FIRST TIME TODAY (as per usual). [I’m SO PROUD of my disordered eating].

This painting’s not about about going away for 5 weeks. Its title (LIKE ALL GOOD TITLES) is a suicide threat. I’m not even 5% of the way to that BUT I STILL ENJOY THE SENTIMENT. And I finished painting it 8 weeks before this all happened, but it’s felt like it’s missing something — and that something is definitely some petty/diaper-baby text. So I’m gonna hit it with a pen and work most of this in there. “BIRTHDAY PUMPKIN IS FUCKING DONE FOREVER” strikes me as especially funny. [I’m such a substantive, serious person!]

BEING DEAD so EVERYONE CAN FEEL BAD ABOUT THE HORRIBLE INJUSTICES THEY INFLICTED UPON ME is a nice fantasy. Emphasis on “fantasy.” No one gives a shit and I’m a fucking crybaby. Good thing I was INSIGHTFUL enough 8 weeks ago to NAIL IT with the (“and Other Lies”) subtitle.

Speaking of which, the other text on the book’s cover is: The exciting new bestseller from the acclaimed author of “Why Don’t You Love Me Anymore?” and “Wah Wah Wah.”

I came up with the title and subtitle one day as I was driving around, listening to punk rock, and smiling my dumb little shit-eating grin. But the part just below that (“the exciting new bestseller…”), I came up with all that on the spot, as I was painting. It’s my FAVORITE PART. “Wah Wah Wah” certainly seems to capture the sentiment of everything you just read.

I am a (now) forty year old fucking child.

A few notes as I write this two weeks later:

• As I mention in the statement, this painting was “finished” by August 30th and what you just read wasn’t written until November 4th. But the painting and the text seemed to belong together so – now they’re together. I wrote all that text onto the canvas on November 7th.
• When Juliana and I broke up, Brandon and Amanda took me in. I was still shooting up. Other friends warned them not to do it. Or to undo it as I continued shooting up but assuring them that I was titrating down. They ignored everyone else and took a chance on me. A month or so later, I was clean and I’ve been clean since.
• In those early days, it was Amanda who helped me sort out the legal mess I’d been ignoring for eight years. She helped me get my driver’s license back and resolve my outstanding warrants.
  And it was Brandon who pushed me to start making art again. I was resistant. I was scared. What if I “didn’t have it” anymore? What if the world didn’t give a shit anymore? He got me through all that.
• All of this is to say that I don’t know what my life looks like today without Brandon and Amanda. They were there for me in a way that no one else was. They let me go at my own pace. FOR THE MOST PART…
• We agreed on a deadline. When I woke up on April 8 (2024) – no more shooting up.
• Naturally, on the night of Sunday, April 7, I decided to take another stab at a fatal overdose. But I didn’t die and they still didn’t give up on me. And – sure enough – April 8, 2024 is my “clean date” now. And this is the longest clean streak of my life.
• This blog entry is scheduled to auto-publish on November 25th, but today is the 18th, so it’s been two weeks since all that embarrassingly stupid pumpkin shit, and I’ve still not spoken to either of them. It occurs to me that this probably warrants some action on my part. But I don’t think I’m gonna reach out. I am, however, gonna pull THAT FUCKING CANVAS OUT AGAIN and add a bunch of this text. (It’ll be there in there by the time you see this). ’Cause the painting deserves it and they deserve it. It shouldn’t just be the dumb, petty shit.
• Changing a painting TWICE after I’ve already paid to have it professionally photographed, that’s not normal for me. With very few exceptions, once one of my paintings is “done,” its FUCKING LOCKED. But this one won’t let that happen apparently. It doesn’t want to be finished yet. Hopefully the same is true of my friendships.
• It’s embarrassing but putting this in my art and putting it out into the world – that’s maybe as close as I can muster to reaching out. Acknowledging that is even more embarrassing. Contemplating whether it will trigger a response, well that would be too much even for me. SO I’M DEFINITELY NOT DOING THAT.