reality_check kss there's a gun in my room. sometimes I take it out and look at it, as a reality check. guns do exist, and I have one I can do anything I want with. I even have bullets, a big bag of them, the kind with extra soft tips that splinter on impact, causing mulitple fragments to tear loose, plowing through as much flesh as possible. Sometimes I put the bullets in it, and then hold the loaded gun. It's a revolver, so there's no safety. The only thing between silence and chaos is my control over my index finger. A couple of times I have even pulled back the hammer. There is something intense about holding a gun that is poised, ready to fire. This seems fine when you are at a shooting range, or out in the sandpit with some bottles. It's fine when it's a BB gun or even .22 caliber target rifle. It's entirely not fine and even a bit strange or surreal when it's a .38 special and you are lying in bed at 3:45 am. As a rule, the gun is kept unloaded. Even if I put bullets in, I always take them back out, and leave the gun empty. I want there to be no confusion about the gun being loaded. It's never loaded, and I never will make that mistake of thinking it's not loaded and it turns out that it is. Sometimes, when the gun is empty, I point it at my head. I know that is weird, and probably something I shouldn't do. I know I'm not well, and belive me, I'm working on it. What I find interesting is the irrational discomfort this causes me. Not because it symbolizes blowing my own brains out. I feel fairly detatched from that process, maybe because I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with my brain. What is weird is that, even though I know for a fact that it is empty, it still creeps me out. Even unloaded, I can't point it at myself without a twinge of apprehension, like it might actually blow my head off. The hesitation comes from a feeling of not being sure, like I've forgotten something. It's as if there might be some loophole through which a bullet can load itself, some factor I'm not considering that, a misunderstanding between myself and version of reality that controls bullets and guns. At this point, I usually pull the trigger. The resounding "click" is my indication that reality is just as it seems. I knew the gun was unloaded, saw for a fact that the chambers were empty, and then proved this state as true. I need this sort of assurance for some reason. I need to prove the patterns of reality to myself, to prove that there aren't those loopholes. 030821 ... khana you crave the feeling of relief, you are so bored in your own life that you need to produce artificial tension by playing with your gun. 030821 ... misstree i disagree. i think, at least if kss's brain were mine, that i would be the weight of the thing, the solidness of its reality... plus a vitality to it, something *important*. 030821 ... nomme i am here check i was there check time check space check air check body check breath check emotion check observation check sensation check crayons check new_york new york new york you nork you nork oun ork 030821 ... birdmad taste of gun oil on my tongue, cloying and nauseous in contrast to the bitter bile taste of resentment of the broken firing pin as i pulled the trigger and nothing happened, fingers clawing uselessly at the stony hillside, crescent moon winking sardonically, mocking me. -- my first gun, Beretta 9mm 1990 recoil in my hands, cold chrome and cold sweat, warning shots and flat tires and the distinct smell of powder masked by cigarette smoke, sweat and a woman's perfume... guns two and three another Beretta and a Colt .45, lost sometime during the premature burial 1992, hollow points all around. Cheap no-name .380, empty clip and convincing scare tactics, 1994...my last gun, sold back to guy i bought if from for a third of what i paid, though i'd have sold it back for a penny to be free of the temptation yes, always that familiar phantom sensation like amputees describe of a missing limb of muzzle to temple or barrel in mouth, the secret wish, the sudden stop, the vanishing_point become not a period at the end of the sentence but a sudden, loud, wet exclamation point. yeah, i know a thing or two about that feeling. 030821 ... oldephebe yeah i get that the compuslive in me has to add birdmad! a cold, blunt, clarity, to your writing, nicely done, and now ((*shudder*)) 030821 ... Mister Brightside face bruised and swollen from a olley of punches and slaps, ruining a good suit with spatter, on my knees in gravel a few turns off of a dirt road with someone else pointing a gun between my eyes trying to play defiant fropm the insulting sensation of the slap and feeling tears welling up in my eyes not so much from the fear, which is undeniably present, but as well hidden as i can make it, but from the pain of the hard sharp pebbles gouging through pant-leg and skin, pressing their toothy edges right against that little reflex point where the doctor aims the funny little mallet "staring down the barrel of a gun son of a gun son of a bitch gettin' paid gettin' rich" the sharp strike sends me reeling into blackness, not the impact of a bullet, not that sudden, wet exclamation point but instead, the butt-end of another pistol leaving a bloody knot on the back of my head and leading to my first unconsscious ride in the trunk of a car 050223 ... no reason /kick in the ass 090412 ... jane bounce. 090412 ... no reason i really don't know how to get over the hurt that is caused by them 100609 ... unhinged when i try to avoid and repress things they only come back ten times stronger heroin_doll cleaned up? benzos still needed but maybe not by the handful (i can tell when i look at you in your_eyes what exactly your throat might have contracted in the gulping motion of a swallow around) i know this slow painful process you are not the first one to put me through it you are not the first one whether he stays clean remains to be seen 100609 ... In_Bloom Booze gets the attention again 100609 ... unhinged i think he gets it now what_i_mean when i say i_love_you brl 100612 ... . . 100612 ... camille is kss still with us? death is the period in a sentence. kss..i want to hear your words continue 100612 ... lostgirl close your eyes if only for a second and cross the bridge from here to there listen to the rhythm of your heart... boom_boom_boom tic_toc_tic like the clock's pendulum swinging shaping imagination with its arched smile marking off the seconds one after the next until the significance of time is erased 110223 ... unhinged no he doesn't get it no fucking clue what i mean when i say i_love_you 110223 ... unhinged current_nonresolutionary_status might end up being more permanent than you would like 110224 ... owlen check check check, check one. check you. check check check check two. check you. check check check. check mike. check mike. who is mike? 110224 ... Doar the hard reality is the feeling of the metal against the hand, not even in the pressure or the trigger, the reality is something akin to not feeling anything. It hurts to not feel anything, it robs you of everything. . 110807 ... unhinged there is way more of you, us around here than I thought or than I would like there to be. i ran away and still, here you are 110828 what's it to you? who go blather from