Per Request

8 Sep

[Re-posted from another blog of mine circa 2009.]

More than a decade has passed since those days on the river, with the smell of desperate chance, chickory and ganga in the air. (Jackson Square at its finest.) Though we were fearful and homeless, in those days we still had hope.  The world was smeared out before us for our bleary bidding.  Our cares were minimal.  Our needs, basic at best.  Our greatest concerns were who was holding what that night and what wig to wear with those shoes.  We were tactless and tacky and we wore our own inane – if not insane – brand of five-and-dime fabulosity on our sleeves with pride.
We were The Young Ones.  We were the Lost Boys (and gurrls) of the Big Easy:  Livin’ it hard, burnin’ it up, and tearin’ it down.  What ever it was.  Our stage was The Streets.  Our cast, a cacophony of Gutter Punks and Drag Queens; High Rollers and Hookers; Poets, Potheads, Vampires, and Waitresses; Runaways and Royalty.  We were addicted to the gutted and glittered glamour that was the tourist’s Bourbon Street.  We were addicted to the rough trade in the back rooms of Rampart.  We were addicted to everything in between, never realizing it was all one and the same.
Looking back now, as what passes for an adult, I often wonder how we survived.  We were kidnapped.  We were drugged (irony, I know).  We were held at gunpoint and raped over the hood of a beat up Chevy, only to learn the gun wasn’t loaded.  We were arrested; we were released.  We stole.  We drank.  We partied.  And eventually, we all turned on one another…
I guess it’s all part of the process.  It became the journey that brought us all to the crossroads at which we now stand – good, bad, or indifferent; for better or worse.  The destruction was the creation (or was it the other way round?) that destroyed us all, and created the monsters we have become.  We are our own end result in whatever medium we now choose to exist…  Looking out at yet another smeared world and its own hot mess of possibility.  Of promise, perhaps, even?
Are we really any more the wise now than we were then?  Did all the bloodshed and tears and accompanying battle scars really leave us any wisdom in its wake?  Or are we just stuck in an obligatory purgatory of all that is expected.  In running from that life, did we run headlong into this one – in a losing game of tit for tat???
I really don’t know anymore.
The most disconcerting aspect of it all, though, is that I don’t know which is worse:  this life, or that one.  In this new world, I feel caged.  My spirit feels bound and gagged; tethered to a life I don’t understand and can not seem to make a go of being a part of.  Inversely, who in their right mind would long for a world of park bench amenities and laundry mat Christmases just so their soul felt free?
Surely there has to be a balance in it all somewhere…  Or is She Who Holds the Scales just as tipsy, fucked up, drunk, and crazy as we all once were.

Someone please pass the acid…  And go ask Alice.
I think she’ll know…

13 Responses to “Per Request”

  1. Nydia September 8, 2010 at 1:58 pm #

    Reading this I feel so absurdly immature and inexperience on how painful life can be and how strong some souls can get. The dramas I've experienced in my life, from love to family dramas, the pain I felt at my father and sister's illness and slow death seems children play. And once again I have no idea why I was given this life of mine, what randomness made me be here, and not there, in your place, for instance. It drives me crazy not understanding the criteria. But I'm glad you survived it all, and is here to tell your story. Now you can kick my ass!

  2. Pearl September 8, 2010 at 4:26 pm #

    Wow. Absolutely LOVED this…


  3. Charles September 8, 2010 at 5:16 pm #

    i applaud this.

    I applaud anyone who has lived hard and made an honest effort at destroying the “everything” and lived to write about it on the other side.

    You were a devil.

    You are a devil.

    None but a devil's words could sound so fucking true.

  4. Lynne September 8, 2010 at 6:20 pm #

    .. now you see why I call you Warrior Man.. now you see?
    Like so many others, you walked through the edges of broken glass, and still have your feet intact. You are here for a reason. This “phase” of the journey is just different than those pases. So keep living, fighting and writing …
    we love you man…

  5. Mystz September 8, 2010 at 9:43 pm #

    Micael,,I think I've said this I'm certain, many times before, that you were put on this earth to write and captivate with your words.

    I read through, and perhaps like some others who have read this, They too may have seen glimpes of their own lives more or less. I can undoubtedly relate to “pass the acid” with my own Wonderland trips. You write something for everyone and while the unfictious facts aren't very pretty in some cases, what captures us is that you really take us there..with you…

    Your talents and your soul never cease to both captivate and amaze me..

    Bless you you…♥♥♥♥……

  6. Marlene September 8, 2010 at 9:47 pm #

    There is so much depth to you. I honestly love reading your blog. Positive thoughts going your way, always.

  7. Kate September 9, 2010 at 8:19 am #

    An amazing insight. I love getting to know you through your blog posts. You think so deeply.

    Kate x

  8. Hills September 9, 2010 at 10:33 am #

    What do I feel when I read this?

    I've stopped to think about it.




    Yes, to all three, though the second one threw me a bit…

    You're incredible.

    Thanks again. As always.

    – B x

  9. Pat Tillett September 9, 2010 at 5:43 pm #

    You know what? I've known people with similar experiences and I've read of others. BUT…
    I've never heard of, or read anything so well written about it. You are truly talented my friend! There's a book or several books in you, waiting to be written and published…

  10. ~L September 9, 2010 at 6:48 pm #

    yes, write that book!
    I remember the first time I read this piece MC. I didn't even know you or barely why I was perusing your sites. G had bookmarked you on her blog and I followed…easy peasy. Your incredibly honest soul opened to me, sending shivers through the comfort of what I thought was another ordinary day. Rabbit, you slay me. and I love you because.

  11. mice_aliling September 10, 2010 at 4:08 pm #

    “In this new world, I feel caged,” is how I felt last year. LIttle by little, I am trying to be what I really want and not what's expected of me. It's tough to be selfish sometimes.

    Good good post!

  12. G.D. September 12, 2010 at 1:28 pm #

    That picture of you, with this story, makes me want to jump on your shoulders and hug you. – G

  13. Kiki September 18, 2010 at 6:39 pm #

    I think maybe I need to come kidnap you so we can go to the Clover and grab a burger.

Comments are closed.