currently occupying the grey matter:
eargasms: faint whispers in the silence and radiohead
oralgasms: sweet potato flan from the lil ole lady at the farmers market and black coffee
burning: midnight oil wasted on wasting time on finding the stories behind jpgs.

aleks asked if i was taking care of myself.

"no," i said.

"i don’t like hearing that," he said.

i don’t know.

i don’t know what i need right now.

i can’t sleep at night and in the mornings, it is so fuckin’ hard to get up.

part of me wants to scream. part of me has nothing to say.

i feel faintly nauseous but i still eat the most guilt-induced foods.

part of me wants to be hugged but another part says "don’t fuckin’ touch me."

you would think that people’s grieving patterns directly correlates to their behavior. i am still handling mine, observing it from a third person point of view- partly to better see what i need emotionally and spiritually, but also because i don’t want to be deep in it.

Mia helped me understand, this push-pull process:

Mia: it’s such an feeling. losing someone.
or losing several people.
your senses are all out of wack.
like everything looks different, smella different, feels different.


like your soul is awake in a different indescribable way
but then your mind goes back and forth
with the "why?" questions

so your mind/body/souls are in this "push and pull" process
... and then it’s hard for you to process, let alone communicate with others

but i feel you about wanting someone to hold you, then wanting them to leave you a lone.

it might be like that for a while

i can feel a slight shift in my being. i started to smile more when i see his pics. i know giggle everytime my friends and i talk about him.

but the odd part of me doesn’t want to stop crying, as if the idea of healing means "getting over" it, and "getting over" it is attached to not remembering...

i know.. i will never forget bryan.

let me tell you what else is formed by the pushing and pulling...

created by the push and pull of the ocean...

rest in paz


i thought it was hard to breathe because of the sylmar fires.

i thought the eyes burning were from the ashes of the anaheim flames.

and i thought that the heat of the earth from below, and the heat from the sun, causing claustrophobic fits of fatigue were due to global warming.



but its the all from the great writer of all things' pen that drips the foreshadowing of what is to come.

that it is hard to breathe because your heart becomes broken and drawing in oxygen is labored.

that the eyes burning are from the tears welling up.

that the 90 degree heat signifies that even the land and the sun is angry in disbelief that a person so sweet, so good,healthy, happy, intelligent, good-natured, down-to-earth, a wonderful friend to many...

has been taken in his sleep.


and it is this lack of understanding you have with the universe is what causes you to pull over and cry for an hour calling your closest friends, your sister, to keep you company until you can pull yourself together so you can drive. and when you were able to drive, you spent the next couple of hours not knowing what to do with yourself, driving aimlessly around Los Angeles as if the perpetual feeling of motion gives you solace. that being still will allow the sadness to catch up with you, and that being at home, alone with your thoughts is not an option.

that sadness that causes you to draw in breaths so deep, that the ashes burn deeper down, releasing pain to remind you that you TOO are immortal and as invincible as you feel, you too are just as fragile. "a flame is strong enough to brighten even the most darkest of rooms but can be easily be blown out with the most sudden and slightest breeze...)

and the little shit don't matter any more.

and the overbooked schedule of places you don't care to be, but need to be; the people you try to impress with your resume, in order to possibly work with, even though you don't really care for their character; the grudges you hold towards people in order to save your own face and hold on to your pride- ALL does not matter any more.

all because of a man's early departure, at the age of 31, made me realize how precious life is, especially all the joyous parts -love, nurture, happiness, growth, forgiveness- is what matters in our short stay here. that as a friend, i am saddened that you didn't get to full fill all the rites of passage a man would may have wanted to accomplished.

he didn't get to finish his screenplays, his movies. he didn't get to fall in love with the right woman and marry her. and have children. he didn't get to see them grow. didn't get to have the joy of walking in a house, and call it his own. nor does he get to see the second installment of "ironman" or to sit in a theater and enjoy "the watchman." this saddens me the most... that we didn't get to see what he may have done with the next 31 years of his life.

life is short. and unpredictable. including our exits.

================

bryan,

rest in peace and paradise, luv. how much you will be missed. do not be sad because of our mourning. i know deep down inside you are free. you are liberated.

and know that your existence in our lives have ignited a fire. that you have set precedence and motivated us to move forward in our lives in a more positive, loving way.

i will smile more. say hello more. forgive and let go more. i will laugh more. be open more. be more vulnerable. hug people more. i will play more. be more adventurous. follow through with all the i aspire to do. i will teach more. encourage others more. find humor in things.

you have inspired a multitude of us to set forth and carry the memory of you in our hearts.

thank you for blessing us with your friendship,
alfie