July 31, 1994

"Each of us has moments of violence, each of us has moments of despair."
                                                       Anne Sexton, Poet

I could kill my attorney who is nothing but a louse, a lecherous and loathsome lawyer, a detestable and debaucherous drunk. I could kill him, dead as in fatal, forever, flowers, funeral, fossil. Dead into dust! Over the past month I've called him four times, leaving messages on his answering machine, asking him to find out about my possessions. And I've written him two letters and what have I heard from him - not a fucking thing. Which leaves me with two options, either contact Maggie directly or find a new lawyer.

Jesus, this has been a year of continual headaches and heartaches. Don't know what I'll do! Decisions, decisions, decisions!

Oh, the miracle of life! Since surviving my suicide attempt I have spent hours everyday thinking about how I survived and why. I have accepted the doctor's explanation that there is no medical reason why I am alive. But why? That is the question, the all encompassing question in need of an answer. If God has a reason why I'm alive, it's His secret - for He's kept it well hidden from me. If  God is good, if God is love, then surely He doesn't want me to continue down my path of self-destruction. So, I pray for insight, hoe and guidance.

Are our lives predestined?  Are our deaths predetermined? Is there a calendar with some future date circled with the hour and minute death is due to arrive, the exact minute your heart and life stop ticking? Many people believe so and with perverse pride you often hear them say, "When you're time's up, there's nothing you can do about it." And after some ungodly catastrophe you always hear some say, 'Well, my time wasn't up!"  Although there is a certain logic and truth to these statements, I have never believed them because there is within nature and in life rampant randomness, universal unpredictability and volatile violence. With is true and real is that around every corner death waits for someone - whether you or me.

I believe luck and good fortune, more so than fate, play a bigger role in our lives than we realize or are willing to acknowledge. Everyday most of us live our lives by being in the right place at the right time, while many people find themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time - and danger and death arrive without bothering to knock. Although I have never believed in predestination or predetermination, I am beginning to have doubts - particularly about my life being predestined and it revolves around the question, why did I survive my suicide attempt. The miracle and the big why? If only I had some answers, some direction, instead of whistling into the wind and wondering why.

On this the final day of July I find myself becoming a versatile vagabond, a wistful wander. I am spending my days alone either reading in my car at the canal or Shawme Pond, or at the cemetery or library. At night I go to wherever there is an empty bed. at my parents home or cottage or my aunt's cottage. Wherever I'm staying I am usually out of the house by nine in the morning and don't return until after dark.

I enjoy the solitude of my days but have started to get bored, have become ragged and restless. All I want to do right now is to get away, to escape - to go someplace to be alone. To rent a hotel room and spend a long weekend with strangers sitting in a cozy bar and drinking one cold Budweiser after another - without anyone watching me. wondering and worrying.

Although it is Sunday I am going to call my lawyer for the final time and leave a message on his answering machine. I shall be verbally violent and boldly blunt, demanding and threatening - state if I don't hear from him regarding my possessions by Friday, I'll report him to the Massachusetts and Barnstable Bar Associations. Jesus, the harsh and hagged hassles of kife.

There is within me moments of violence because I am angry and hurt - disappointed and discouraged. And I've had not moments of despair but months of despair, months of cruel and corrosive despair - a treacherous and terrifying tunnel of dangerous and distorted darkness.

4:15pm   -   Cape Cod Canal   -   Sandwich, MA

contact: fortheheartcries@gmail.com

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