Alot of people have asked me what prompted my seven month long...and counting...celibacy. Back on June 2nd, 2006 I wrote a blog telling the whole story...and followed it up with another one on June 5th. The problem for CherryTappers is that those blogs were only published on MySpace...and since alot of us have deleted our MySpace accounts...they were unable to read them. So, after being asked for the story for the umpteenth time I've finally decided to just repost it here. I'll post the June 2nd entry...and then the June 5th one. I just wanted to warn any readers that these entries are not current, although they do explain my current situation...
Just a Bad Trip... June 2nd, 2006
I know I haven't been posting often in these past months. I would give some lame excuse about how busy I've been or how idiotic keeping a regular blog is, but I refuse to lie to you, dear readers. I've just been lazy. So many times I've sat down at my desk ready to write and then just gotten sidetracked and never finished what I had in mind. I've been a bit sporadic lately...and for that I apologize.
My mind has been racing. I think that's due to the fact that it's had so much spare time recently. My work is only part time, I'm not in a relationship...hell, I'm not even seeing anybody. And that's unusual for me. Yes folks, I have reached a lull in my otherwise activity filled life.
And it's boring as hell.
That's not to say I don't do things. In fact, last weekend I ventured to Camp Zoe in Missouri for this year's Memorial Day Schwagstock. It was an interesting long weekend to say the least.
First, it was decided to bring along some friends who'd never attended a Stock and therefore had no idea what to expect. I tried in vain to prepare them for what was in store, but they still had no idea what they were in for. We caravaned up there...with Tim, Kory, and me in one car and Jason in the other car with the newbies. We had come to within 10 miles of the gates when my two way radio blurted out some static and I heard Jason's voice say "We're running low on gas back here, guys. The low fuel light just came on."
Of course it was 10:30 at night and we were in the middle of nowhere. Gas stations in that part of the world pack it in early, so there was really nowhere for us to stop for refueling. It was decided we would just head straight for Zoe and Tim and I would go into town the next day to pick up some gas for them. We barely made it in the gate before they not only ran out of gas, but their car overheated and blew a head gasket.
And so began a glorious weekend.
We weren't able to take the time to find the perfect campsite because of the car and the dark. So we sent the guys scouting for something near where the car was parked. They found a spot and it wasn't until morning that we realized the spot contained absolutely NO SHADE. It was the first really hot weekend of the year and I swear I felt like I was melting. I know I was perspiring. There was an enormous mud puddle right beside our camp and I spent a great deal of time staring at it longingly, my mind reeling with thoughts of how mud is what pigs use to keep cool because they have no sweat glands. I kept thinking things like 'if mud can keep THEM cool without perspiration imagine what it could do for ME'. Alas, I never ventured to try it. I already felt filthy enough from the gallons of sweat pouring off of me and no amount of time in the creek (which contained about as much shade as my campsite did) would make me feel completely clean. And speaking of the creek, I now blame my time there for the HORRID sunburn I recieved. Thank you, creek, for the momentary relief and for the fact that I am now peeling so badly I resemble a snake shedding it's skin.
The weekend wasn't all bad. I did sojourn briefly into the world of the massive acid trip. Around 6 pm on Friday Tim looked at me and said "open your mouth", then proceeded to drop 3 geltabs onto my waiting tongue.
Having never tried acid before I wondered fleetingly if he had fed me too much, but that thought vanished in a puff of smoke(literally) about an hour later when he also fed me a few mushroom caps, and the world started to shift. Leaving Jezebel at camp with Kory so that she could rest her overheated doggy bones in my tent, I headed up to the stages with Jason and some friends who had camped near us to see the Spooky Daly Pride show. Alas, I was not meant to stay there.
If you've never dropped acid before and are freaked out by any sensation that leaves you feeling out of control, DON'T DO IT. My mind and body had so many urges that I was powerless to fight.
So many thoughts raced through my head that I felt compelled to speak them aloud to avoid my brain filling up too fast with them and possibly exploding. I rambled on about karma when one of my companions suggested a practical joke on the other people surrounding us who were in the same condition as I was. From what I gathered only one of my three compadres was able to make any sense of what I was talking about. (Thanks Andrea, for being sane enough to comprehend my ravings.)
My legs soon lost their ability to hold me and I plopped down near the stage, gripping my two way radio(my only present link to Tim who was off wandering in the woods somewhere) and watching the insanity forming around me. Many people were surrounded by what I can only describe as auras. As they moved and shifted the colorful balls of light surrounding them rushed to catch up. It was like watching Peter Pan run from his shadow. I looked down at myself and watched my own shadow grow on the ground as the sun was setting. I thought to myself how sad it must be to live a shadow's life. Constantly locked to one person and heedlessly following them wherever they may roam...living only in the darkness or as a reflection of the light, never to feel the sun on your face and, in fact, having to avoid it. For the first time, I felt a kinship with my shadow. It occurred to me that with all I had gone through in my life, the good times and the bad, my shadow was the only one who had never left my side. Even when I couldn't see her, she was there, waiting to reassure me that in fact this was reality. My shadow is my best friend....the best anyone could ever hope for....and I am never alone.
Shortly following this thought I turned to my left and there sat a yellow dog. Letting my eyes scan his immediate area, I determined that he had decided to attend this concert sans owner. His leash hung spread out on the ground beside him, useless. For the moment at least, his bondage had come to an end. Oddly enough, he didn't look too happy with the situation. And, as I looked at him my mind filled with thoughts of Jezebel...back at the campsite, ensconced in my tent with only an air mattress and tie dye blankets and pillows to keep her company. I suddenly could think of nothing else. I missed her, worried about her, longed to run my fingers through her soft fur and feel her warm wet tongue lick my cheek (no beastiality jokes please). The feeling started somewhere in the center of my chest...a feeling of being pulled inexorably in one direction. I turned toward the trees beyond which a short walk downhill led to the campsite and my beloved pet. My legs tingled and itched to be in motion. The wind through the trees began to sound a bit like words to me. "This way." they whispered. "She's waiting for you down here."
I looked toward my companions who had long since left me to my mental wanderings to approach the stage and sway along with the music. I lifted the two way radio to my lips, depressed the button, and called out to Tim. "I think I need you." I said, "Where are you?". His reply was that he was trying to find his own way back to the campsite. So with a sigh and some considerable effort, I lifted myself to my feet, shouldered my backpack, and approached my friends. After having told them I absolutely had to go, Jason reluctantly came along with me. We walked down Shakedown Street, past all of the vendors and the people and the lights and I continued to marvel at their colors, their fluid movement. They came toward me in waves and blurs of color and smoke. I was actually relieved when we reached the hill and moved beyond them. Such sensory overload can become painful after a while.
We reached camp just as Tim did. He unzipped my tent and Jezebel rushed into my arms. I held her and kissed her nose and felt a flood of relief at the sight and feel of her. I whispered into her ear a promise not to leave her behind at camp anymore. She was my guardian angel and I couldn't bear to leave her side. I sat down in the tent with the door open and stroked her fur, determined to keep touching her until I felt reassured. Tim, Jason, and Kory made a semi-circle of chairs outside my tent and turned on some music.
THAT was ODD.
Every song had it's own aura, just like the people I'd encountered. I leaned back in the safe cocoon of my tent and ran my hand along Jezebel's side, staring up at the stars through the mesh ceiling and marveling at the softness of her hide. The songs came at me...one after another. Some of them seeming to pummel me with their dark and angry colors...others seeming to envelope me in their cool tones.
I closed my eyes.
And the song changed again.
It was a song I'd heard a thousand times before. It was, in fact, being played from one of my burned CD's.
But suddenly...it was different.
As I listened to the words and the haunting melody behind them, tears began to fill my eyes. Soon they ran freely down my cheeks as I silently mouthed the lyrics.
I sat up, leaned toward Tim as he knelt by the radio. "Turn it off." I whispered. "Please."
He didn't hesitate. The music stopped and he looked at me. "I was seeing beautiful things." He said to me.
"So was I." was my reply. "That's why I asked you to turn it off. Some things are just too beautiful to hear."
So many times I'd heard that song...understood the words being spoken...gotten lost in the melody, but suddenly I saw exactly what that man was saying.
And I knew that what he was describing was exactly what I'd spent a lifetime longing for....and yet never finding.
I felt empty...hollowed out.
And I haven't listened to that song since. I can't seem to bring myself to. I think it's just like I told Tim.
Some things are too beautiful to hear.
Maybe it's just the idea of hearing those words and comprehending the feelings behind them and yet never having those things felt about me...never having someone say those things to me...or even think those things about me.
Or maybe it was just a bad trip...
Two days later we were on the ride home after our unusual weekend and everything still felt kind of foggy. Even the episode where Tim and I were driving into town to get that much needed gas when we came around a curve in the road and collided with a deer. Even the moment of impact, the dent in my car door, and the bruises on Tim's arm (which just happened to be hanging out the window when the collision occurred and was caught between the deer and the door) fade into gray when confronted with that moment...that one moment of perfect clarity as the music floated toward me and engulfed me in it's beauty and meaning.
I was right...
Some things are too beautiful to hear.
I'm Your Man: Leonard Cohen
If you want a lover I'll do anything you ask me to.
And if you want another kind of love I'll wear a mask for you.
If you want a partner take my hand
or if you want to strike me down in anger.
Take my hand...
I'm your man.
If you want a boxer I will step into the ring for you.
And if you want a doctor I'll examine every inch of you.
If you want a driver climb inside
or if you want to take me for a ride.
You know you can...
I'm your man.
Ah the moon's too bright
the chain's too tight
the beast won't go to sleep.
I've been running through these promises to you
that I made and could not keep.
Ah but a man never got a woman back
not by begging on his knees.
Or I'd crawl to you baby and I'd fall at your feet.
And I'd howl at your beauty like a dog in heat.
And I'd claw at your heart and I'd tear at your sheet.
I'd say please, please...
I'm your man.
And if you've got to sleep a moment on the road
I will steer for you.
And if you want to work the street alone
I'll disappear for you.
If you want a father for your child
or only want to walk with me a while
across the sand...
I'm your man.
Sidenote: Later in the weekend I saw the yellow dog again, but this time he wasn't alone. A smiling man was holding his leash and walking him along the edge of the creek. He had been found. I really had no reason to worry...
