I hit rock bottom this week.
On Thursday, I became so emotional that I left my work without telling anyone where I was going and ran down the street sobbing. Then I threw up into the bushes and almost got hit by a car. I sat down on the sidewalk and sobbed and sobbed and yelled and tore at my hair and hit my fists against my own skull. Then I cried some more. Then I felt angry, so angry that it felt as if I could catch fire and burn a hole through the Dalai Lamas face. Like I could punch out Jesus. Like I could die. Then, slowly, I came around. I started shaking and feeling cold like I was in the snow. It was seventy-five degrees and sunny. Inside, I was a frozen tundra, a penguin standing on the egg of my future, not knowing if my life would come back. Frightened beyond measure and chilled to the bone, I stood in the snow and protected that egg.
I went to sleep that night and soaked the bed with sweat. My pajamas were so filled with anxiety that I literally wrung them out in the sink. My pulse was racing. I hadn't washed my hair in days and days. I felt like hell. Dark night. Light on. I looked in the mirror. I looked like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. A dangerous man. A man on the edge. A man at the bottom of his own sea.
When I looked in that mirror, I no longer saw the face of a baby boy. I saw a madman. A deranged lunatic. A kook. A right brain. A left brain. A brain. A heart. A human.
I saw a future husband. I saw a future father. I saw a survivor.
I saw an actor, a writer, a filmmaker and an artist. I saw a healer. I saw a dreamer.
I saw Donavan.
Here I am world, take me or leave me.
I am a piece of fucking work.
Broken, sad, disheveled, fucked up, lost, scared, scarred, raging, ragged, hurt, guilty, innocent, broken, together, fixed, unshaven, dandy, brazen, raisin, disheartened, silly, sappy, happy, alive, dreamer, doer, seer, fucked up, fucked over, good natured, classy, kind, timeless, wise, stupid, hair brained, hare brained, right brained, shit for brains, genius, vintage, elegant, eloquent, winner, loser, takes nothing, takes all, small, tall, fall, get up, sleepy, awake, dead, alive.
I imagine a room full of artists and painters and poets and musicians and actors and believers and doubters and nuts and heroes and sheroes and lovers and dreamers.
Dylan, Henson, Nicholson, Wolfgang-Amadeus, Dali, Schiele, Kubrick, Hepburn, Burnett, Lennon, Allen, Joplin, you get the picture.
I knock at the door looking, feeling and being like hell and heaven wrapped up in a ball of torture.
"Welcome to the club, kid...welcome to the club"
This artists business is tough.
But I'm a worthy opponent.
I've seen some shit, paid my dues and I'm taking the blows.
And punching back.
I hate Easter.
There, I said it.
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck Easter.
It brings me down every year.
So I’m Jewish today.
Suffering all the way and bringing humor and mensch-hood with me.
I’m pissed and I’m tired and I’m mired and I’m wired and there’s nothing more grotesque to me than forced gaiety. Bah Humbug! Shiny happy people can eat me. Or perhaps I'll eat them. Or perhaps I'll just eat some candy. Lot's of it. Then I shall puke it onto the face of god.
I’m going out to buy some chocolate bunnies.
Then, like a glass under the wedding Chuppah, I’m going to wrap them up in a white handkerchief and smash their little faces in. Bash their brains in. Bash em' right the fuck in. Little furry fucks.
Pissed and angry and alive.
Just like Jack. Just like Janis. Just like Donavan.
CUE MUSIC: RIDE OF THE VALKYRIES
Kill the wabbit...kill the wabbit...kill the wabbit!!!