TheIncredibleJY

...When Charlie’s regression is complete, he briefly returns to his old job at the bakery, where his coworkers welcome him back with kindness.

Charlie forgets that he is no longer enrolled in Alice’s night-school class for retarded adults, and he upsets her by showing up. Having decided to remove himself from the people who have known him and now feel sorry for him, he checks himself into a home for disabled adults. His last request is for the reader of his manuscript to leave fresh flowers on Algernon’s grave...

I listen to the wind
To the wind of my soul
Where I�ll end up well I think,
Only God really knows
I�ve sat upon the setting sun
But never, never never never
I never wanted water once
No, never, never, never

I listen to my words but
They fall far below
I let my music take me where
My heart wants to go
I swam upon the devil�s lake
But never, never never never
I�ll never make the same mistake
No, never, never, never

A lazy Saturday full of random drives to nowhere, reading in a coffeehouse for hours, walking downtown and touring used book stores, lazily basking in the sun at the park while eating a picnic lunch, lying side by side in the dark savoring a favorite record... The list could go on forever. I miss the seemingly trivial thigs the most.

Saturdays are lonlier now than ever.......

I took this test at Art.com and here are the results:

Your inner artist is Gustav Klimt!

Whether incurable romantic or caring optimist, your style is undeniably Klimtian. Like all romantics, you tend to think with your heart. And why not? Great things often come with a healthy dose of passion attached. When it comes to matters that matter — whether love, or injustice, or freedom — you’re rarely one to follow the crowd. In fact, you possess the rare gift of courage, along with the self-confidence to stand up for your convictions. We’d guess you’ve swum against the current once or twice before. And where something you care about is concerned, we’ve no doubt you’d do it again.

The thing I found most interesting about this is, Klimt's 'The Kiss' is one of my favorite paintings. Though, sadly the only thing I actually paint well are stick figures...

You are PJ Kinzer. You were/are a savior to the
scene and have been putting on shows for about
3 or 4 years now. You keep it edge and are all
about the rock n' roll.


Which Nashville Scenester are you?!
brought to you by Quizilla

Such a weird thing when we fall out of touch with someone who once held a very near and dear place in our hearts. I knew someone, not that long ago, who majorly impacted my life and who now I have absolutely no idea who she is or what she's doing. I hate myself for letting her slip out of my life and into obscurity. Hind sight truly is 20/20, and I think we should all be allowed at least one mulligan so that we can change an event or decision that was founded in stupidity or youthful ignorance. Ahhh, to know someone like her again...

Today, I am back in Nashville, feeling like someone ran over me with a semi-truck, contemplating whether or not I should stick with my current doctor and treatment program, wondering if I'll ever be well again, and hoping that I'll have friends that truly understand me and how to befriend someone who's chronically ill. By the way, for anyone counting, I haven't figured out any of those issues yet, no matter how much time I spend pointlessly trying. Maybe I should just stick with a decision I can make like, which new records should I pick up tonight? I say, Ryan Adams, Death Cab for Cutie, and Elliot Smith. I'll probably change my mind when i get to the record store.

Anway, just really wish I could believe in myself again. I miss the old me, I guess.

Just found out today that my uncle and one of my closer friends both think that my condition is merely psychosematic and not truly a physical illness. It boggles my clouded mind that these people who I trust and look to for support can completely reduce everything I've walked through these past 19 months down to a self induced, mental condition. Never mind that I was extremely happy with my life as it was before this dreaded condition started destroying it. Why would a healthy person with no past emotional, physical or mental issues cause their own demise?

What's the point of continuing to try doing anything? Just to keep up the appearance of living? This is definitely not how I want to spend my days on this earth, sick, lonely, depressed, with no sign of it ever getting any better.

I'm a one trick pony that's played it's last birthday party.....

Well today was much better than the previous 30. Today I actually had a glimmer of energy which made demeanor brighter than it's been in a loooong time. Hopefully thisis a trend that will continue and not just a passing whim.

Tonight I was able to see one of my absolute favorite bands, Switchfoot. They were nothing short of incredible. You see, i've been a fan since the early days of The Legend of Chin, so tonight I felt like I was 18 again. I have so much respect for John Foreman's writing. He has such a knack for capturing emotion on paper and making it a tangible thought that resinates intimately with the listener. My only hope is that one day my writing will be remotely as compelling to those within earshot.

Life is so weird for me right now. I hope that someday soon i'll be able to see the bigger picture, and hopefully that day will come before I make too much of a mess out this so called life. Maybe someday.

By the way, this Damien Rice record makes me want to fall in love.....

I feel absolutely wretched today. No one, not even my close friends, seems to understand that just because I'm not wasting away in bed all day, doesn't mean that I'm not REALLY, REALLY sick. It makes me feel like I should just stop living even this ridiculously limited life, and just start playing the part of the chronically ill, social sloth. I'm trying to maintain something that resembles a life, but I seem to be failing miserably.

The worst part is, I can't even remember what it feels like to be well. I have so many symptoms that I'm just "getting ued to" and assimilating them into my personality and way of life. Everything about this illness directly contradicts who I really am. When will the old me come back? Will he come back?
How am I supposed to make my mark on this world when I can't even remember how to be myself?

Well, it's about time that I started getting back to composing my thoughts. The last month has been crazy busy for me. I can barely remember any of it, such a huge blur of jumbled thoughts.

Since my last entry, I've moved completely back to Nashville, found out that my house was infested with toxic black mold, located a new and mold free house, painted it completely, moved everything in 2 days, saw the K.O.L and Mindy Smith play out, walked approximately 124 miles, made 4 trips to Goodwill to get rid of junk, killed numerous hours at my local coffeehouse, sold my Volkswagen and made several gallons of organic hummus.

I've been feeling a weird range of emotions since returning to Dodge. Many of my old friends are like strangers now, and forging new relationships takes way too much energy that I don't have to burn. So, I find myself spending many lonely nights cleaning and fixing up my new place, which is fine, it's just you get to a certain point where you need more human interaction. At least that's the way I'm built anyway. This new limited version of my old self is really debilitating. I'm really having a difficult time adjusting to life down here because I'm constantly haunted by memories of how I used to navigate this town when I was healthy. I feel like a social amputee, a lobotimized deaf mute in a straight jacket.

As for my medical condition, absolutely feeling worse than even just a few months ago. I keep waiting to get to the other side, only to realize that it's just a treadmill of emotional pain and physical isolation.

Yesterday I went to the MRI clinic to have my brain blood flow tested. You never quite get used to the MRI tunnel no matter how many times you've been in one. I'm completely disenchanted with the entire medical community at this point. I wish I never had to see another doctor.

Later in the day, Lindsey and I went to 'Dancing in the District', which is an outdoor concert that the city sponsors and usually includes big name acts. This time it was Jump Little Children and none other than George Clinton. Not a bad show for a mere $3.

Today was soooo hot. The temp was about 95* and ridiculously humid. I hung out at my aunt and uncle's for dinner and then met up with Lindsey and Amber to hit The End and catch my friends band, Luna Halo. A fun night overall. I felt little glimmers of my old self pop up every now and then, but I don't feel like I'm getting any better, I think I'm just learning to cope with this debilitating feeling. I'm tired of just coping, I want to live again. Someday soon, hopefully.

Man I'm boring now. Nothing intelligent or remotely clever is coming to mind. It's official, folks. I'm a moron. The line for tickets to the freak show forms on the left.

Ahhhhhhhh. Just got back from the most incredible club show that I've been privy to so far this year. Chris and I hit the Exit In and saw a band called The Year of the Rabbit, and let me tell you, they were nothing short of spectacular. For starters, the sound quality and mix were absolutely spot on. The guitars were crisp, bold and soaring. And the drums, ahhh yes, those drums. Nothing but pulsing energy and piercing off beats, played so skillfully that it made me wonder how other bands get away with the mediocrity of the typical hacks who post up behind the set. If you've never heard of this band before, run out and buy this record as fast as your stubby little feet will carry you.

I loooooovvvvve being in Nashville. Home of the $5 rock show that fills your heart with musical bliss and your ears with a post show deafening ring.

Well, back in good old Nashville again. Flew in tonight and met up with Chris and Judd and did a little catching up at Divincis. Being here brings out the best in me, even though that isn't saying much.
Also caught up with Jen and Anne Marie at the mellow mushroom. They are the nicest girls I think I've ever met. Unfortunately there was also this weird group of four sisters. They were absolutely impossible to have a conversation with. Looking back, I think they were just really shy. They had this strange dynamic between them, sort of the inside joke looks and the "I'll tell you later" glances. It made for a very odd evening.

Tomorrow I go to Vanderbilt to under go a barrage of tests and questions. My Gp is going to discuss what my next course of treatment is going to be. I'm worried and hopeful at the same time.

My brain is fried, time for bed......

It's being forced to mindlessly watch hours of tritely written TV shows. Especially when, previously you were someone who barely watched television at all. Now I've joined the ranks of all the other hordes of lemmings that vegetate for days on end in front of this technological eyesore. Instead of my typical friends, the people whom I now know the best go by, Dawson, Joey and Pacey, or Ross, Chandler, Rachel and Monica. And instead of life actually making sense, I now expect a laugh track whenever I'm remotely charming or a stringed accompaniment whenever I experience an emotionally climactic moment.

Anyway, I think I really need to throw my TV set out of my window, otherwise I'll need the doc to up my medication.

I really, really, really, really, miss reading books. The weird thing is, I keep buying more of them every week even though it's impossible for me to read them. Maybe it's some weird subconscious notion to believe that I'll be well enough to read them soon. Odd dream, I know. I wish to recover so I can become a reading banshee. For now, that'll have to do....

That's a quote by Ocar Wilde that I feel expresses my feelings most accurately tonight.

I'm too tired tonight to type anything.

I find these photographs absolutely fascinating. Anyone else?

 
Riverside Drive and 83rd Street, New York
Paul Strand (American, 1890 - 1976)




New York 3
Aaron Siskind (American, 1903 - 1991)

Well this has definitely been my week for great music and it's really making me feel at least like I'm enjoying certain aspects of life again. Music seems to have a magical way of transcending any illness or mood, doesn't it?

Tonight was Longwave. Actually, I was only going to see Longwave, but a band called Stellastarr (<--yes, that is an extra r. Obviously they're trying a bit too hard to be clever.) opened for them. The openers were 30 minutes of my life that I would love back, not a single song was an original thought nor were they even decent musicians. Needless to say, the only pleasant sound they created was when they threw their guitars down and walked away.

But Longwave on the other hand, ahhhhhhhhhh. Such a musical delight. Take four experienced and accomplished musicians and add irresistible hooks, heavenly overtures, singing guitar interludes and you have the second half of my evening concert. The lead singers voice was soaring and dead on. The layered guitar and keyboard resonated epically through the smoke infested dungeon, transforming it into a church like experience. If you haven't seen them, keep tabs on their sight www.longwaveband.com for tour dates. And if you don't have the album, run to your nearest record store and pick it up, it's actually a cheap record.

By the way, I finally got to talk to Danielle. She ended up having to check into the hospital again. She's such a fighter, I have so much respect for her. Hopefully she'll get released soon so she can at least have a little fun in the midst of her darkness.

Does anyone read this journal? Hello? Anyone?

Man, I'm so wiped out tonight. The last two days have been such a whirlwind for me, but I've had such an amazing time. I actually almost feel human, almost.

Ok, where to start....Hung out with my cousin and sister every single day so far. Yesterday we went to my absolute favorite coffeehouse called Fido's. Ahh, it's the best. Double soy latte, herb eggs, and about 2 hours of stimulating conversation against the pretentious backdrop of Nashville's elite socialites.

After that, lounging around a pool for about 3 hours, just sun, sleep and warm water. My skin's actually starting to look like I'm a day walker, a welcome change over the pasty, pale ghost of my former self.

My cousin was given some free tickets to the Our Lady Peace show. So a free summer concert to one of my old favorites. It actually turned out to be a very disappointing performance. They've really sold out. They played nothing from their noble efforts of 'Happiness....' or 'Spiritual Machines'. Even their stage presence has gone the way of self deprecating butt rock. The highlight of the entire show was watching this ridiculous hick crowd throwing their beers and burning their fingers while showing approval with the flick of their bick. Can you say yee-haw?

Now here's where everything starts to pick up. During the show, we get a phone call from a friend who informs us that the proverbial heros of the day, 'Kings of Leon' are back in town for a quick break in their tour and they decided to play a small show for their hometown fans. We immediately bee-lined to the venue(12th & Porter) and made sure we got tickets. They went on about 12:00am and played an incredible set which completely blew me away. There were only about 75 people at this show which made it all the more enjoyable. It was so good, I was actually still on a high at 1:30am when they finished. Now for me, that's the equivalent of swimming the english channel thanks to my illness. So, needless to say, it was one of those nights that I'll still be getting milage from over the next few weeks.

This weekend has been so good for me. It's really encouraged me not to give up fighting and to keep pushing to salvage the old me. I'm so thankful, I may see some light at the end of the tunnel, for once....

So, I'm in Nashville today. My pilgramage back to the town I love was successful but not without it's drawbacks. Plane flights really wipe me out for some strange reason so I'm completely wiped right now. Maybe it was the fat guy next to me irradiating a foul, uidentifiable odor. Anyway, it's so good to see my cousin and the rest of my family.My uncle has lost 110 pounds since my last visit, soo crazy. He looks amazing.

My homecoming is completely bittersweet for me though. There's this side of me that is trying to keep on fighting to reclaim my old life, and this other side that feels completely spent with absolutely nothing left to give. It's really depressing. I'm not sure wether to move, or continue to gut it out. I just want to feel something other than this illness for once, even if it's just for a little while.

Haven't heard from my friend Danielle, which is really starting to concern me. She's been valiantly fighting Cystic Fibrosis her entire life and the last few years have literally been life threatening. When I don't hear from her, I get worried that something horrible has happened. Hopefully I'll hear from hear sometime soon.

It is so freakin' hot down here! It's 85* at 10:00 at night!

Ok. Some interesting news emerged during my trip to the chiropractor today. My chiropractor informed me that my head is tilted 2 degrees to the left side, (please refrain from all jokes referring to my head not being screwed on straight.) and that the tilt is causing extreme pressure on my brain stem and forcing my neck out of it's natural curvature. He also said that the amount of pressure that's being applied is more than enough to cause all of my symptoms and it's a very serious problem, though he won't commit to believing that's my entire problem. So, the plan is to keep working on the tilt until we can get it to go back to normal, and then hopefully any damage that it's incurred should be able to finally start healing. For once I'm actually a bit optimistic about one of my doctors theories. Wouldn't it be amazing if all of this misery ended soon? Pleeeeaaaasssse!!

In other news, my latest ebay purchase was delivered today. Another vintage T-shirt. It's amazing, a completely cheesy slogan that says, "I'm a Mall Walker", on a perfect buttery soft, super thin cotton fitted T. Soooo worth the $5 I had to shell out.

I'm going to Nashville for a visit this weekend. Still putting off the move, for now anyway. Just going to hang out with my family and friends. It'll be completely bittersweet because while I love everything about that city, part of my disdain will be derived from the subconscious reminder in every familiar nook that my life there may soon be coming to a close. All I want is to get well and resume where I left off, is that too much to ask? Anyway, I'm just going to try to have fun and not think about reality, still not sure how to pull that off though.

By the way, I can't believe I went this long without this Ryan Adams record. What a masterpiece. If you haven't heard it, run to your local CD shop and grab a copy. You won't regret it.

Just got some scary news from my doc. He wants me to get an MRI of my head to see if a brain tumor could be causing all my symptoms. Apparently, quite a few of my symptoms are consistent with those stemming from a brain tumor. The weird thing is, I'm not even worried about it. I mean, I've been sick for so long now and I've tried every treatment available without even the slightest improvement, so I guess you could say I've given up on ever being well. I've had so many tests run, why can't any of these arrogant physicians with enormous god-complexes help me? Ya know, I really don't care anymore...

On a lighter note, I just spent way too much money on some new music. A little Ryan Adams, Eels, Ed Harcourt, The Mars Volta, Finch and Wilco's latest. There's something so therapeutic about buying new music. I'm not just referring to the ecstasy of listening to the album for the first time, but of the entire purchasing process. First there's the find, then the fight trying to open the packaging, leafing through the lyrics and credits. I even love the smell of patchouli soaked carpet of the record store and it's nutritionally deprived clerk in his drunken stupor still milking the tiny remnants of THC from his blood stream that's leftover from his 5th 15 minute break before noon. Ahhh, there are very few things on this earth that can provide the same nostalgic satisfaction that a Saturday afternoon spent at the record store can bring.

Why am I watching the medical channel right now? They just grew a nose on the top of some guys head! So gross....