The day started lovely, something strange in the air after yesterdays TV marathon, I woke ready to leave the fucking house and never look back. In fact, I felt like that for a number of reasons, but only a few are appropriate to share here. I woke up ready to take on the world, and whatever is in it, which turned out very good because before the end of the day, in fact, before the end of the afternoon, I found out one of my best friends, Tye N9ne tried to commit suicide. No wonder he quit answering his phone. And no wonder all his friends quit answering their phones. I digress. Allow me to start so I may finish.
I woke up ready to face the day. I headed down to the farmers market for my usual Sunday brew, hahas and some yummy coconut cakes, which I’ve been thinking about since Friday. After the market, which I went to alone because Duncan went out to some auction in the valley- I know very surprising, Duncan venturing into the valley, I went to my usual Sunday afternoon meeting. I know it is becoming my usual Sunday afternoon spot because when people greet me they now say “Hey Jennie, so nice to see you again!” instead of “What was your name again?” and this feels good, in fact, this has started to happen when I attend, and this morning, the leader asked me to read from the big book, about a spiritual experience, and of course, I agree.
During this break an old friend, who I haven’t seen in a years time, comes up and says “Bitch! I thought that was you!!!” I was so thrilled to see him, he was my date one year to the AVN award show and we drank all of Mandalay Bay event center out of their booze. Funny that we should meet up again. We exchange numbers and then it’s back in.
After, another familiar face comes up and I can’t place him. I know I know this guy. The first thought in my head is “Oh shit. One night stand. Run away.” He says to me “Did you get arrested about four years ago doing donuts on a jetski in the no wake zone at Havasu?” I said “Why yes….yes I did.” To which he replies, “That was MY jetski!!!!” and THATS where I knew him! Fucking J! I haven’t seen him since my ass got hauled away to jail on the back of a Havasu cops boat in nothing but a thong bikini and marijuana leaf pasties, and here we are, same problem, same solution. Funny how small the world is, and how many faces I recognize, even in sobriety.
After I chat with a real tough broad who’s name I love, and will not share here for reasons of anonymity, and her words are strong, encouraging. Give me hope. In fact, I think I will call her tonight to see how her day went. I mentioned that it’s day 62, and she asked how old I am, 26 and ya gotta think perhaps there is something in that, in 62 days at 26, or 26 with 62 days, something is in the air. The Magic Square, which is also the matrix of numbers in Pythagorean numerology has this to say about my strange number day:
26/62: 26/62 – attitudes of love as a result of which young girls fall in love with misters or leaders as Zeus and numerous nymphs have diverse intimacies. Or it is attitudes as a result of which subordinates are in love with chiefs or chiefs are in love with subordinates, provided that during mutual relation they can observe norms of morals but in any case chiefs and subordinates are pleased each other and render mutual assistance that is possible to see in mutual relation of Zeus and Hecate which help each other.
As I’m a little too self-involved to understand this, perhaps you can interpret for yourself, or me, and perhaps time will reveal more to me.
The Number Two:
The Submissive, Female, Dualism, Cooperation, Consideration, Balance, Mediation, The Other, Love, Flexibility, Adaptability, Grace, Dance, Harmony, Devotion, Obedience, The Subconscious, Water, Soul Mate,
The Number Six:
The Protector, Provider, Healer, Nurturing, Children, Empathy, Intuition, Sympathy, Quality, Sustenance, Love of Community, Unconditional love, Circulation, Economy, Agriculture, Charity, Balance, Grace, Evolution, Simplicity, Sorcery.
Again, some more numerology shit that can or can’t be applied, I mean, I’m not a sorceress, nor do I have children, but I feel like a child, and have started to experience some magical changes in my life. Maybe it all applies. Anyway, I really liked this tough broad I mentioned, she seems really on top of her shit, and I like the attitude and outlook on life she carries. It’s contagious. I need that in my life. Because as soon as I drove away from her, I received a text…..
From Tye’s pops…
a little background on Tye….
I lived with Tye for two years. Two and a half years. He was the only other man I’ve ever met that wanted to drink like I did. To drink the bar out of all their booze, do donuts on the 101s coming home from the bar, and then come home and drink more. So it made sense we lived together. We never said “no.” His dad is actually the one that bailed me out of jail in Havasu because he was the last person I had called, and Stephanie Swift jumped on my phone and hit redial. When we lived together, he was on probation for selling pot and wreckless driving. He was sentenced to three months but because of the California jail’s overcrowding issue, was released in three days with “time served.” After that he went back to selling pot, and there was always the threat of having Vice invade our home and raid our shit. I lived in some pretty heavy fear but thanks to marijuana and booze, never let it get to me. Until finally, in the first attempt to distance myself from porn, I moved to San Diego and realized how nice it is to live where you don’t have to worry about the cops raiding you.
After that, Tye was involved in some petty things here and there, struggled with a cocaine addiction, and girls girls girls. One girl in particular but I dislike her strongly, so I will hold my tongue. At the beginning of this year, he and I started talking a bit (he never leaves LA so he never came to visit in SD), and we ended up meeting at a concert about a week before I entered into rehab. I mentioned that I had been doing blow again, at which point he confessed he had too. He also confessed he had a gram back at the house and since we’ve never done coke together….
Well, three days after he and I stayed up all night blowing lines, he got into some serious trouble with the law. So serious in fact, that he was sent to jail and facing 11 years. They let him out once again, overcrowded still, and he decided he isn’t going back to jail. So wednesday, after a conversation with his parole officer, he downed 12,000 mg of Vicodin, 8,000mg of Calonipin, and 15,000mg of Flexeril. He went down in a slow motion blaze of glory screaming “I ain’t goin back to jail. I ain’t goin back to jail.” He was right. He was declared 51/50 and sent to a ward on a 72 hour suicide hold. Now he’s in Ventura county, sitting in a rehab, waiting to get out. I wanted to go visit him.
Until he called his dad and said “The Lakers are playing tonight and it’s during visitors hours, please don’t let anybody come visit or I’ll miss it.” And he’s always been a die hard fan, and perhaps I’m being selfish in thinking about how I don’t want to drive up there on a Monday because of traffic, but really? Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. The whole thing. I think suicide is the most selfish and cowardly act. It doesn’t take a lot of strength to off yourself. Just a handful of pills or a blade slicing the right way. But to live? Living is fucking hard. Strong men and women fucking live. And it’s fucking hard. Dying is easy. You just commit and do it. It’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. But living? Every single day? That takes courage.
And so now, I’m not quite sure where I stand in my mind about the situation. He obviously has some serious issues to work through, but if and when I do go see him, I won’t have anything to say other than what I’ve just said. You want to be a cowardly selfish bitch? Or do you want to be a man? You want to have some fucking balls? Face your life. That takes fucking balls.