zeptember

When I got home from work, my man was watching a documentary called The Haunted Palace, which was for the movie Session 9, which he just saw for the first time today. I’ve heard about it but haven’t seen it yet.

But watching the documentary with my man gave me wonderful flashbacks to all the times I went to the Northville Tunnels when I lived in Michigan. Sadly, the grounds were demolished a couple years after I left home.

For those Michiganders who, like me, used to tour through the Northville asylum grounds and tunnels, below you will find footage dating from the late 1980’s onwards. I miss the thrill and the adrenaline rush of sneaking in and poking about the grounds and tunnels.

http://www.youtube.com/user/northvilletunnels

http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~asylums/wccdc_mi/index.html

http://wikimapia.org/5429015/Wayne-County-Training-School

http://www.wacots.org/

http://abandonedmemories.com/

To the non-Michiganders who watch the videos, yeah, that’s bonifide hicksville fun. And a lot of people still look like that out there. Except for my friends and adopted sister - they’re cool though. :p

So I scanned some pix of my life for ya today.

Growing up at Ma’s house.

Playin’ in the forest at Dad’s house.

My dog, Lucky

Skater in an abandoned building in Detroit in the early 90’s.

I’ve been in flashback land since Friday. Two things contributed to this, because on Friday:

1. My friend Evil from back home flew in for a weekend visit (I took him to a tribute to 4AD at the Stud, to Forbidden Island tiki bar, and to the DNA for New Wave City).
2. My friends A&M started driving across country from Chicago on I-80 all the way to California (as of this post, they’ve entered the Bay Area so they’re almost here!)

As a result of the above, there was much talk between me and Evil about “The good ‘ol days” (for our Cabal it was the 1990’s), which eventually led to Evil saying “remember when” and after awhile I had various instances of saying, “no, I don’t remember that because I’d moved away, remember?”

Egads, it’s been almost 11 years since I moved out of state.

Seeing the various pix posted by A&M on their move across the country inspired me to go back through photos that I’d taken on the same road trip so many years ago, including pix taken by friends at our going away parties.

And then there’s this nag in the back of my head - on Saturday at the tiki bar, I introduced Evil to the friends I’ve had for the past ten or so years here. Evil went on about the things I used to do, which caused a chuckle but my California friends weren’t that surprised, given the stories I’ve told about myself over the years. But they’ve never really SEEN that old me. It was weird to see them eyeballing Evil like, “wow he looks pretty normal”. I had to tell them, no, this is the same guy who used to dress head to toe in leather and command us to kneel so that he could pour tequila down our throats.
After my California friends went home for the night, Evil, my man and I stayed on for another hour or so. Evil remarked that it was nice to see me finally hanging around some nice, normal people.

!!!!

So then I had to explain to Evil about where these people have been and what they used to look like and how we used to all go to the goth clubs together. That’s when it hit me - I have two sets of friends that belong to two suspended time frames, and I am NOT the same person in either time frame.

It’s a sick mimic of multiple personality disorder or something.

In my head, I live simultaneously in Michigan and California. But in my head in Michigan, it’s 1997, and in my head in California, it’s 1997 to present-day.
My Michigan friends last saw me on a regular basis in 1997 so that’s still the memory they have of me. They don’t know the extreme I’ve gone to in calming down, becoming less hot-headed and daring and rebellious. That’s all they remember and carry with them to this present day. They carry a dead person. I do the same with many of them.

My Michigan friends will see my California friends and vice versa, and neither knows each other’s history - they only know what they see in front of them in the here-and-now. I carry an idea of each group with me that I cannot convey to each group because they cannot fathom each other’s history. They only see what they see now.

And each group of my friends also carries an idea of me with them that does NOT match what the other has in their head.

This for me is very disconcerting. Add to this the fact that yesterday, I was going through all of the pictures of my move to California in 1997, after having stayed up at the club with Evil til 3am, rambling on about “The good ‘ol days”.

So naturally, this put me into a MAJOR depressive funk.

I was driven to drink - so much so that I was visibly shaking. I’m SO glad my man’s gaming group cancelled last night, because without him here with me, I would have broken my sobriety vow. Thankfully, I got most of the tearful depression out of me yesterday and last night. I think what finally helped was finishing the last scans of the pictures, coupled with the fact that my friends are also almost in town, completing their own trek across country.

It’s a sense of closure. I really hope it’s permanent, because I’m so very tired of dwelling on the past. And you know, I’m tired of worrying about the future, too. Last night I told my man that all I want to do is just learn how to BE in the PRESENT time.

*deep breath*

Yeah, that is good. Talking with my man yesterday and journaling today - this is good. This is conscious, willful effort to change. Also, today I am 40 days sober.

Oh, and here’s the pix from my journey across country, freshly scanned in today.