TOUCHMEDONOTTOUCHMEIAMALIVE

Thursday, November 26, 1970

Fig. 033

I'm so in love with you.

You've got soul so deep in your eyes
It's not the color that swims, it's those things that lie beneath
You've got heart buried down in your chest
And you keep giving it up until the world's at its best
You've got me wrapped so tight around you
I'm falling more every day, there is no bottom to touch
You've got legs and they were made to move
So let's speed things up and give this thing some groove
-----
I've got a fire in my heart
It's finally left my lungs
I can breathe again
God, I can breathe again
I've got a purpose in sight
You've set me back on track
And I can see again
God, I can see again

How do you do this to me?
It's such a wonderful place to be
When I've got you here in my arms
Yea, when I've got you here in my arms

Wednesday, November 18, 1970

Fig. 032

I found this one carved into a tree. I'm mostly amazed that someone took the time to carve all of that out. The lettering was beautiful and ornate. It's truly the work of an artist.

"If It Moves, Kiss It"

The children are breaking down around us
Cogs stopped spinning by the smallest offset
The days seem to pass a good bit quicker
I've not seen you and I'm feeling better
December fifteenth my lungs set to failing
The sickness finally wants its earnings
So I will draw in my last breath
I hope you're listening to my final words
I spit and sputter and make no sense
But surely I loved you til the end
I finally let you crawl inside me
Take your spade and dig in deeper
The further you crawl the happier I'll be
'Cause you're the reason that I've stopped writing
Call it a blessing, I know that I do
But my future is ending now that I have you
Words are slipping and forming together
A drunken sailor says his goodbyes
My son, it's over and I must go
I can't imagine a world without him
But I'll carry on his old legend
We switched the viewpoint and I stopped bleeding
We flipped the lights on and you stopped weeping
All is well now, just give me your hand
The ocean needs a brand new captain
To the sea I'll take with the world behind me
A cradle left empty and dusty
With a sullen wish to fill it soon
But a world in need means it's waiting
Please forgive me for taking orders
I hope you're listening to this goodbye
I promise that it's not forever
I spit and sputter and make no sense
With a promise to love you to the very end

Friday, November 6, 1970

Fig. 031

They've come out with this new sort of bubble-gum. It has no sugar in it, but is still sweet. Supposed to be healthier or something. So I was talking to the owner of the company that is selling it and he starts telling me this whacked out story of some group of musicians that live on the streets in cardboard houses. Reminded me of Gypsies. So I go down to check out this "city" of cardboard houses, but it's no longer there. They seemed to have picked up and moved on. One box left behind, with this scribbled onto it...

I was unaware that it would end at this. The woman saved my life. I wouldn't have known it at the time. Her fucked up sob story. Laid off is such a bullshit term sometimes. No one seems to get fired when you're a case worker. Everyone is laid off. So she was "laid off". After all was said and done it turned out she had been caught fucking a random man in the back office of the gas station she was managing. She was a prostitute on the side. At least she had a babysitter. I can't really condemn her. I'm just glad I didn't know that then. So she tells me how she can't afford food. Her four-year old is staring at me intently the entire time. The damn kid must have been trained. The sixteen-month old is surprisingly quiet. All this, and she "makes too much money." Eight years as a God damned case worker and I can't even begin to tell you how many times I've seen that. What the fuck is too much money? I hated it. I still hate it. It pisses me off to think of how many people a day see it. So I look at the little girl, and I have no idea what to do. I can't do this to another family, right? This has to be where I break. So I did what I thought was right. For the first time I did what I got into social work for. I helped someone in real need. I gave the woman enough food stamps to last her at least a year. Longer if she stretched it. A week later I called her up and informed her that she had a check of two-thousand-twenty-six dollars and thirteen cents. I emptied my bank account for her. I feel it doesn't really need to be stated that I lost my job. So I took my cello to the streets. That's when I met the Cardboard House Collective. I like it here. And I helped someone. Karma could never have made so little sense. Karma could never have made so much sense.

Fig. 030

We've got to keep that little clear thing ticking. Turn the plastic knob there. Ok, now what does it say?

This could be the last time I break down. You do know that, right? Like, this could be the final chance to save me. You don't have to stand by and watch me suffer. Fuck, quit acting like you don't know what I'm talking about. You sit there with this disgusting smirk on your face, telling me your stories of a new artist. You tell me how much you love him. You tell me how much he reminds you of me. Let me tell you how much you remind me of no one. What the hell happened to you? You used to be so free-spirited. I remember when you knew what art was. You were so beautiful then. You fought for it, too. No one could take from you what you loved. The music you liked was so delightfully poppy that even I could not help but to move to it. It was all about love and the feeling of it. Now it's all about heartache and fights and war. In one day I watched you turn into this mangled wretch while I sank further into the ocean. My breathing was gone, and I fear you sacrificed your ability to live by saving me. I will not mourn your loss. It's time to start over. Let's start over. I'll start over. START OVER. startover... start.... over......

Wednesday, November 4, 1970

Fig. 029

Another piece from an interview after the announcement of the Admiral's trial.

It was postmarked Pocatello. How had they found me. I have never been hidden from the public, but no one ever knew where I was before. And certainly not them. They knew what I had done. I began to hyperventilate. I opened the parcel. All that was in it were a knife and a note. A note that read "You know what we want." Such a terrifying thing to write. Of course it was obvious. But was it? How did I really know? I could be quick to assume, though I knew what they asked was impossible. It was unfair of them anyway. I was not responsible for her end. Just her beginning. How dare they let me be the downfall of their poor mistake? I will not let them take me. Not alive, and we know that's the only option anyway.

Fig. 028

The rambling of an insomniac/alcoholic.

The sun is rising. Another all night long to compliment the all day long. 96 hours gone by with only 13 to close my eyes. Caffeine jolts through my system to ensure that I remain alive. Persistent. I'll take 3 more hours to rest tonight when my chores and errands and jobs are completed. Then it's on to the next social gathering. How do I stop this? Why the hell would I?

Tuesday, November 3, 1970

Fig. 027

From an interview with the Admiral.

It said to tell it of a yearning. How dare such a small, feeble thing demand so much of me? I yearn for so much. How can I choose one to tell of? The most recent. I'll display the most recent. But now how do I describe it. A thin neckline, but so much more than that. It's that point at the bottom of the ear where it attaches to the neck. It's the way the shoulder seems to curve perfectly. Too often the most beautiful curves are ignored for the ones to be considered voluptuous. And your collar bone. You are all too aware of how attracted to such a thing I am, and yours is perfect. The feel of it when I run it's course with my fingers. I am astounded. Do not allow the thought of this being a carnal yearning. It is so much more than that. It is a simple need to hold you close. To know that I have the right to claim you as my own. It is a yearning to do so every night and be amazed every night by you.

It is to be noted that halfway through his rant he begins to address someone clearly not there at the time.

Monday, November 2, 1970

Fig. 026

It seems he has returned to us, world. Rejoice in his clamoring. The retelling of this one may not be so gruesome. I expect he'll return to the ship soon.

My saint,

I dreamed of you. Of us. They still seem less real though coming true has followed through. I'm not sure where I'm taking it, and I am more than frightened. It makes no sense to me how I can seem so lost when with every dream before I felt so in control. Love on a new level has set me back and I'm scared of you. You have some fancy control over me, and by it I am enamored and thrilled, but also terrified. What if let you take it all and then you leave. It's an issue I have. Maybe this magnificent return of past to present will tangle it up and tear it out of me. I want you to have it, but I can't seem to let go. A blade to remove the grip will set upon the machine and let the cogs return to spinning. Come into me so I may come into you. I crave you like a wolf does, and I need you to know me as a garden. This time I will be the rose. I will be beautiful for you. I cannot let this fear of recession to the rear of your mind drag me down. I must remain steadfast at the forefront and fight back every terror. It has been ages and still I live. Welcome to dust. Welcome to rebirth.

Forever great,
Admiral Admiral

Fig. 025

The Admiral resurfaces?

Woman,

You are so gone away. I've got the hypocrites all down and sreaming. They lost their faith in everything they never believed in. They saw you down and out and up and in and they shook like straw that billowed softly in the wind. I called you a dream and then shook myself from sleep. I ripped your cold dark grasp from me and now you are failed. You lived around me and when you tried to take back your own life it was gone. I never held on to it because you never asked me to. You wanted so badly for me to believe it wasn't the center. Well now I know, and you seem to have forgotten. My life does not revolve around you. You do not have rights to distribution. How dare you become angry with me when I tell you my business at last minute? Should you not be satisfied in the fact that I told you at all? I will stop here for fear of tearing apart anything we might still be. Never again to be what we were, but we still have a shot at something. A friend in me will be here.

No longer yours to claim,
Admiral Admiral