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It would be a lie if I said prison was bad. It was release. No/little thought. Way way time to dream. To wonder & yes, wander. In the last few days I’ve received 4 letters from 4 I’ve left (physically) behind. They’re & others like them, are so firmly wedged in my heart. I can see them in my veins. I suppose this would be a time to define brother/sister hood. Fuck that is you haven’t figured out, whether actual or physicophical, forget it.I have 1 birth mother/father. 5 siblings from that tree. My brothers, sisters, mothers, father abound as fruit from dawn. Well anyway, my friends in there want to know how my trip home was. It was a car ride with Kelly. It was a cup of coffee. It was new green. It was traffic. It was who will I see. Who will greet me. Who will hate me. & whom I left. It was quick. It was & still remains sweet. Just like I can’t/won’t talk of that joy & secrecy of a lover’s arms. My trip home was/is something so profoundly private. It’s taken time even for me to come to terms with. I’m a coward & prison afforded me a certain dignity. I have a horrid time with life & prison is floating in a dirty bathtub. Pouring vodka on a water moccasin. My apartment is wonderful. My books, art work, chrome furniture & clothes, & everything is coming home. & yeah, those memories. That thick clot. Saw Alex, my therapist, ½ hour or so ago. Touched base. What I learned, my change. My pain. My joy. I haven’t let Evan go. I never got mad at him for leaving. I can’t. I just can’t. I’m holding on to this pain to hold on to Evan. This apartment is already Evan’s. Noah is here but somehow, a dead son overwhelms the living. I know Alex is right. I’m truly petrified. I actually thought prison would have helped/cured. Nope. Another stupid John trick. Dave wrote & said I cared more for the seagulls than most of the inmates. I miss Dave. I miss Rodriguez, Aaron. Chris. Jefe. Smurf. Hell I miss the food. Kelly made me a cake last week. It’s been many a meal. Sold some lamps for some cash. Broke again. Selling more lamps today. Erik is a miracle. This apartment. He’s also helping me move. He’s there. He’s here. “None the less I confess I yearn”.
W.J. music has been my food. Move love. My friend. Catching up. Finding all my cd’s & some others. It is a bittersweet reunion. I guess the most amazing thing is how easy this is. How open hearts are. Everyone is holding me. Welcoming me. My family. Our family. I was always home. When I clicked my heels I just came to another house. Home is family. It’s love. Our purpose. Our reality. “I still miss someone”. & How are you.
Later.