no need to be frightened

I will start this in medus res. I was just in the bathroom taking a wonderfully satisfying dump in a dimly lit bathroom at Chapell Wilson. I'll let Charles Bukowski explain how I feel about taking dumps through his explanation of poetry.



Anyway, I finished and flushed, and upon exiting the stall the light came on in the bathroom and a random sociology professor said to me "let there be light!" I was startled by him and nearly malled him like a hyena, luckily he had a friendly face that deterred such impulses. It's just awkward after you've lost a good portion of your body weight via butthole, you feel intensely satisfied and relaxed, and suddenly someone tries to engage you in conversation during your reverie.
        The reason I'm in Chapell Wilson at this ungodly hour is because my neighbors who had wireless internet decided to lock up their network, retitling it "try and steal these nuts." While I respect their decision and I would have probably done the same thing if  the whole of one apartment complex was crowding into to my wireless I couldn't help but feel vexed this morning when I did not get the e-mail that all nine O'clock classes were canceled this morning. When I saw the snow this morning my first thought was that I would need some long johns, not that I should catch that extra hour of sleep. I don't know how to think about my neighbors anymore after this. They play shitty music (Coheed and Cambria x 311 / Sublime) which was not bad until they got drums and decided to be loud and obnoxious; they for some reason expect me to recycle their beer cans because I recycle my own refuse;  and now they are  with holding internet access from me (which I understand I don't pay for, but fuck I just walked through the cold for nothing). I shouldn't be a snob about their music, they sound a lot like some of my first bands in high school.
          I played that show at Beanstalk and it went very well. I got asked for an encore, which was very special. I remember seeing A Silver Mt. Zion over the summer, and when they got asked for an encore Efrim came out and said "I just want you all to know, encores are hella gay." But that night, when the call came, I was touched, bright eyed, bushy tailed and eager to play more. Seriously, it was an intense moment of validation. It made me feel for just one second that I was not wasting my time. Of course, those feelings dissipate, and as I listened to my voice on a recording of a song I've been working on, I felt none of that euphoria. 
          I'm looking at my schedule next year and while I do not have Friday classes, my Tuesdays and Thursdays are filled to the brim. Seriously, 9 AM to 3 PM straight class. That's literally high school. It would be easier if I dropped the Appalachian Strings class, but fuck that. I will feel my time here was a complete waste if I did not somehow master the banjo.

Today I spent the longest time just recovering from a hang over. Here's the recipe. Start with a shot of tequila, bite the lime and drink  two beers. Now it is time to look at art. You will need a bottle of discount unlabled merlot, drink heartily or Andy Warhol will never forgive you. Now you're at some party and someone keeps handing you red cups of keg beer. Drink, drink, drink, argue, exclaim, and in the morning wake up with crippling pain. I wasn't right til about three.

Before that was much more enjoyable. Will, Cassie, and I went to Hebron as the sun set. Me and Will played each other songs and then decided to leave. The only lights to guide us home was the moon and my cell phone, which I promptly dropped into the creek. A few feet from the car Cassie realized she dropped her keys somewhere. We made our way back and miraculously we found them and did not die in the wilderness, always a good thing. Oh yeah, Will stepped in dog shit. Karma. Believe it

I read a poem of Mika's today and it made realize that I need to write more. Writing is easy enough to do, but I need ideas. I love the feeling of a good idea. I love it when things write themselves. I want to write a story or a poem and submit it somewhere. I need to start actually living up to this creative writing thing. And it would be nice to see something in print. I feel like I can't write anything without a guitar. But my guitar playing is on par, my words need to be stronger.

My friend Max is coming into town from Santa Fe soon. I can't wait to see him.

Soooo. This entry won't be as frantic and sleep deprived as my last one. I got a few things on my mind, and they rise to the surface slowly.

( This is all semi-political. And if you read it then you'll know why I don't want to force it on anyone. )

So that's it I hope this will cover my political discussion quota for a year. But I doubt it.

So I decided that it's not fair to have this journal and use it to only look at other peoples journal. What can I say? Though I am hopelessly voyeuristic, I am not beyond contribution. I am ready to atone for my sins.
        Part of why I feel like writing is because I just had to write a shit ton. I have a mid-term paper due tomorrow for my Studies in Ethnic Literature. I had to write some kind of paper about either The Kite Runner or Ceremony. Even though I liked Ceremony a lot more than Kite Runner, I choose to write about Kite Runner because I completely comprehended it on the first reading and Ceremony would require a second reading, which with all the other reading I am not doing, was an impossibility. Such is the nature of the last minute. I spent a lot of time trying to think about what to write and was failing. Then when talking to my dad about it, he suggested to just look at the book through the perspective of the hero's journey, "you know, that Joseph Campbell shit." (his words, not mine) I felt it was kind of a cop-out, but with less than 48 hours til due time, I had to take the ideas as they came, and his was not bad. Thanks dad.
        But then came the next problem. Both copies of  The Hero with A Thousand Faces were checked out from the library. I went to the school book store and it was not there for me to pocket, I called up Black Bear-- no luck, I went to the Watauaga library and it was either a national holiday or Sunday afternoon, either way I wasn't getting in there without a thick brick or some serious skills with a lock pick.  It's times like these that I wish Boone had a Barnes and Nobles, but that's a momentary and low priority wish (especially when compared to my wish for telekinesis or for some sort of bird sidekick not to mention someone to love as much as Batman loves Gotham City). Anyway, this problem was rectified in a way so convolouted I had to be on drugs (which I was) to go through with it. You see Joseph Campbell is almost as quotable as Oscar Wilde, and a lot of scholar ballers with nothing original to say like to quote him, and I was trying to write one balling scholarly paper. So once I got the whole hero's journey thing down from the wikipedia entry, I went database paper hunting like a kid on Easter trying to figure out where Jesus hid the painted eggs, and to great sucess. I cited all of Joseph Campbell's paper through paper's he did not write. However, one of the papers was called something to the effect of "The Monomyth and the Terminator." I had use alot of these:  "..." in my quotes when ever "Sky-Net" or "T-1000" came up. With the help of a medicinal study aid and about three cups of coffee, I got four pages done in single space. I can't wait til I get to the end tomarrow and then hit that double space button; my mouth waters like a loose jawed dog.
        Writing this paper also made me really thankful that I have Dr. Atkinson as a professor.  I have had atrocious grammar since that time when I was not supposed to have atrocious grammar; now, after half a semester in his grammar class, I feel on the road to recovery. Most of you will probably never know how absouloutley wonderful it is to come to the age of 21, use a semi-colon in a sentence, and know that you're doing it right. Be thankful. Also, don't be compelled to proofread this entry. I'm better, not perfect, and I said it here.
       I've realized that the Bright Eyes song "You Will? You? WIll?" is instant happiness. It's so simple it could be the first song you learn on the guitar. When you play it by yourself it'll make you smile to no one. If you play it in group of people and just one other person knows the lyrics, you'll feel like the two of you are destined for great adventures. I thought of it because someone else pulled it out of thier repitoire the other day and it was like me and him weren't strangers to each other anymore. Good on you, Conor. Good on you.

So recently I broke some bones due to a moment of insanity. Now I'm back home and my mom's been taking care of me. Today I spent most of the day strung out on Hydrocodone (wonderful stuff), reading The Sun Also Rises, and trying to remember newly written lyrics from a missing journal. The worst part is not being able to play guitar. Also I'm getting those under-cast itches that hurt even more to scratch. On the plus side I have discovered (though it is not preferable) I can type as fast with one hand as I can with two, though i do tend to skip the space bar and my 'V"'s turn into "B"'s. But I guess that's what they made that nifty delete key for.
       


I'm trying to be optimistic. It could of been a lot worse. And I'm thankful that I have an awesome mom who can put up with my grumpy self. But still, I can't help feeling jealous of people with full physical mobility. I can't wait to be a Biped again. I swear I'll run twenty miles.

Trying not to hate his body.
Jacob Berghese

I had a dream about alien invasions last night, which is the second one this year. In the first one I remember being called to judge ten people who were set to be executed for some reason. A man in a black suit showed up at my place and asked me to use in his words "my talent for impartiality" for this case. He brought me to this field, which now that I think about it is not that different from the field at Green Knob off the parkway except there was a well. That is weird because I'm pretty sure I had not made out there yet when I had this dream. These ten people were standing with their hands tied with rope and their faces completely covered with clear masking tape with little breathing slits pulled open. For some reason I was unable to pass judgment on them (more likely I just didn't want to do it). So I was taken away. I returned early morning and they were gone but for some reason I knew they were in the well. I looked down there and I could hear this high pitched humming and was entranced by it. Suddenly the black suit appeared again and asked if I was ready to perform. I said I was. He looked down the well and said "This young man is ready to pass judgment on you" and then something snapped in me and I pushed him hard to the ground and made a declaration punctuated by an over dramatic swell of symphony strings that this man does not speak for me. The man got up and suddenly thick finger nail like lesions popped of his skin and he grabbed my by the neck and threw me into the well. My dream went into montage. I saw people all over the country sprouting these lesions. The only one I can remember clearly was an old piano teacher with a pupil. The lesions sprouted grotesquely out of her wrinkled skin. I woke up so scared I had to go out to my front door and make sure it was locked.

The dream I had this morning I don't remember so clearly. There were a lot of news reports and suddenly we were all outside watching airplanes spinning round and round in the air like they were caught in a cyclone. They got so close and they were huge and they when they crashed they were white light fire balls.

I don't remember my dreams too often. I usually dream really vividly when I haven't been drunk or smoked anything. My dreams also interconnect in a weird way. I'll think of events that happen in dreams from years ago and sometimes get them confused for dreams I've had recently.

I wish I could take a survey to see if doomsday dreams are common lately among people. Prothetic perhaps? I don't know.

This is the order of events leading up to the present.
                  -Went home.
                       - Stayed with my mom and eat more than I have all semester.
                           - Saw my brother who at the age of 22 finally stayed out past 3 AM. I am so fucking proud of him.
                                  - Saw my good friend Matt who still bears the world with a big grin, a lot of anger, and so many dirty jokes that his                                                         mouth spewed shit, everywhere. I love him for that.
                                          -Spent a lot more time at cup of joe than I intended to, but not as much as I used to. So that's good.
                                                  -Played music in tents under rain fall as well as by swimming pools. Both times in good company.
                                                          -Had a great drive home with Kristen today.
                                                                 

Though I love Raleigh, it sometimes hit me like a migraine. Boone, more beautiful than ever today, was the sure cure.

                                                      


Also P.S.

I have discovered that pretty much all the bullshit that I wrote in the "about me" section of face book has come true. I do in fact allow birds to nest in my mouth where, at the moment, a baby pterodactyl . I can in fact move objects with my mind. Driving back to Boone today, I let go of the wheel with the road curved and the car moved about it perfectly. Unfortunately, I wrote that one of my interest was moving the earth closer to the sun... fuck.

The last few weeks have been a certain combination of dreary and chaotic with subtle moments of peace and content in between that made all the shit that came before seem worth it. With only one exam left I think I'm going to reconsider dropping school. At least for the summer I think I should take the two english classes I signed up for so I can be closer to finishing the major and be able to dedicate one year to a minor. I have to accept that I can act rashly but if it weren't for rash decisions I wouldn't be completely sure of what I want in the world. Also school in the summer might be a whole different thing. Sunny weather and the cool mountain wind has a way of picking ones spirits up.
             I have a lot to look forward to. Tomarrow I'm playing a show at the beanstalk again. I thought it might be lame because I wouldn't have any new songs to play, but lo and behold two have fallen in my lap a little dusty and need of some polish. One just needs one more line to be done, the other is about half way there.
         Then there's A Silver Mt. Zion in Asheville in a few weeks. Not only am I excited to see that band but also to see all my friends up in Asheville from back home. I haven't seen them since spring. Far too long, far too long.
        Then of course summer in Boone, which is something I have yet to experience except in small hints during the fall and winter breaks when the town empties out and becomes so quiet and peaceful.
          One more exam to do, one more paper to turn in, but as far as I'm concerned I'm done and that is that.

Today I spent the whole day doing months of journal entries for my poetry class that I was supposed to be doing all semester long, whoops. The bulk of it consists of reflections on poems by Arthur Rimbaud, who was a seventeen year old French poet from back in the day of clean cheap hookers and green absinthe, he later went on to participate in the slave trade in Africa. I had always wanted to read them and I thought this journal assignment was a worthy opportunity. But that was at the beginning of the semester. I found the early poems of his to be immature and overly flowery, mostly consisting of long bragging rants of all the women he's slept with and mistreated (yes i'm sure jim morrison got the hint), so I wasn't compelled to read or keep up with the assignment. Now I have to turn them in by tomorrow after noon and have been just rushing this stuff out. But on the plus side I found his later poems to be a lot better, especially one called "The Righteous Man."  It's a real stunner and is best when read a loud. 
                In other news I've decided to take some time off from school, at least for a semester, though a year seems likely. I've been feeling  very despondent and unmotivated with school and I just think  that if I'm not doing  the best I can I shouldn't be doing it at all. I remember when I first started in college at Wake Tech I met a lot of people working full time, going to school full time, and sleeping very little in-between. It made me realize how valuable it is to have a college education and I am very lucky not to have to work full time to have my education. School is nothing to do half assed. But that is what I'm doing right now. I feel like I'm just carrying my divided buttocks through college much like I did in high school. I've known for a long time that I'm not really interested in having a career, I think a purpose is more substantial than a career (though admittedly it probably doesn't pay as well). I can't really say what my purpose is, not clearly in a single word or sentence any way. I know I want to play music, always. I some times feel stupid for saying that because I know it's a long shot pipe dream and I've been told that many times. But there's the rub right there. Nothing any one has told me about my music, good or bad, has ever made me want to quit. It's the only thing I know, the only thing I really rely on. And I'll say now, because I refuse to bullshit myself: I'm not the best musician. I go off key when I sing, I can't play guitar as well as I'd like to. But fuck it. I know my weaknesses and I'm not afraid of them. I'm looking forward to having time to put all my energy towards music rather than rationing it off between work and school.
            I'll still be living in Boone, at least for the next year, working a lot definitely, and hopefully just fuckin' around and enjoying myself for the most part. I don't think I've ever felt more at home than in Boone. The people I've met here are some of the most wonderful selections of human beings on this planet. I'm not ready to leave just yet, but I am ready for the future when it finds me.

So I've just worked a terrible shift at the coffee shop at school. And then when I was considering suicide after this ordeal, my friend Kristen came in and lifted my spirits with dirty poetry and convinced that only way I could possible survive was with a Live Journal. I haven't had one of these since I was 16. Back then my name was Tulsaslut and I was the scourge of the internet. Now I'm back!

Jacob