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Descent bit pusher: Following safety's 5 am rant is a rough gig ... but anyway, Descent:

Madness -- Moko Jumbies dancing at the beach bar, propped up on stilts, one of them twirling something that appears to be ON FIRE ... calypso music floating up the hill, mixing with sounds of the low tide surf until it all washes over me, blitzing my senses ... driving me further into Madness.

Empties and stubbed out cigarettes, some deposited in jugs of water on the floor, some crushed into the tracks of a sliding glass door facing the bay, a couple on the floor making roadblocks for the termites to crawl over ... empties and an air matress pointed toward the glass door for a better view ... this is what I've been reduced to? Drinking alone while the rest of the island parties?

Bass, steel drum, and the band leader chanting something unintelligible as she whips tourists into a frenzy -- all serve to push me closer to the edge. It's all I can do to scribble notes in a green spiral-bound pad instead of hanging myself off the balcony just to shut the f***ers up. Goddammit, can't one night in paradise be set aside for the depressed, spent drinking in silence alone in apartments, seedy bars, strip joints where the dancers gyrate to blues howlers instead of caribbean backbeats?

Pry the lid off another red stripe, start another butt, pray that the noise ends soon -- how long until I can sit here in silence again, as it should be?

They're playing musical chairs again, motherf***ers! Fitful stops and starts, random cheers from overweight yankees blinded to their absurdity by overexertion, sweat, too much food, rum, dope. I briefly consider starting an extortion ring, sending pictures of drunken revelry back to the poor saps stateside, threatening to distribute them around the internet unless my silence is bought. God I hate my neighbors ... this is what I get for living next to a tourist bar.

The waterworks will start again soon. Uncontrollable. Some wellspring of fear, self pity, loathing that got tapped and can't be closed off. It's only a matter of time now. I'll lose it, curl up into a ball with a pillow on my lap, clutch it like my ex wife and rock back and forth ... the one sad man in all of paradise. I am killjoy, hear me roar.

Need aspirin now, four 500mg Tylenol, washed down with beer ... my nightcap ... kill the body's pain so I can feel the mind's more acutely.

Ah f***, it's karaoke night tomorrow. Maybe I'll kill myself on karaoke night. That would be fitting -- end it all during the worst possible assault on the senses one can imagine -- in the apartment I hear every sour note, every mangled line, with a clarity the singers and the crowd can't. It's like Psy-Ops nuclear warfare ... no quarter given ... so foul that there isn't enough booze in the world to numb its impact. One bullet in the head, much faster than listening to those bastards screech for hours on end.

When will it end? Will I ever stop torturing myself for crimes I don't even understand, or is this going to go on until I can't handle it any more, until the sheer unreality of life here sends me over the edge?

One week more ... one to go. For chrissakes, let me make it one more week.

There's a bottle of coconut rum here ... a mini ... but still, will that shut the rest of this noise off? Will that kill the harsh realization that she's not coming up tonight? That the one and only thing I've been clinging to for some semblance of normalcy is tired of being my replacement sanity? No, she's not coming up tonight. She finally figured out that I'm using her to ground me, that to me she is the only thing on this godforsaken rock that isn't fuel for madness ... that I'm infatuated because I'm almost sane when we're together.

It can't be fun to be someone else's sanity -- I tried it once, and when I left the girl who was leaning on me ate a shotgun blast. Try carting that around on your conscience for a while ... No s*** she's not coming up tonight. Who needs that kind of trouble?

Time for the rum ... she left it here ... maybe she knew that I'd need it. At least the rum won't leave.
Safetykc: Ahhhh...Fear and Loathing in the Virgin Islands...

Damn....Follow my ramble anytime...and I don't know whether to say relax or to say send it off to a publisher....

Either way...Really good for content...if you are seriously suicidal...please please PLEASE get help....It's not worth it...truly...OK????

But if that wasn't what you were saying then...

Well....chin up....hmmm....Aww Hell, It's almost 7 am now and I am all out of ramble.... :P

I will leave it to the others...

Hang in there....



 bit pusher: Not seriously suicidal, no ... but thanks for the concern ... and I'm going off to get some help anyway heh.
 Buggs: Bit Pusher,

Have been following your posts and just wanted to drop a few lines. Have to say that despite what I imagine you are going through, put simply, CRAP... I admire your ability to see the humourous side of things. Just think, you could be where I am in over 30 cm of snow freezing your b*** off with less than 8-9 hours of daylight where the people are all bundled up in 14 layers of clothes and all doning a looong unhappy face :( (and they are the happy ones).

I'm sorry that you have to be dealing with this, heading for some pro counselling is a great step my good man, can't remember how fresh your situation is but just wanted to remind you that as much as we all know there is a significant grieving process, there's also your health. So perhaps moving on to light cigarettes and light beer is a good start ;D to a slow recovery -

A day will come when your heart will catch up with your brain and you'll begin to see the road again.....hope for you and the tourists that its soon ( I fear for their saftey more than for yours...haha)

Hang in, seatbelt on, both hands on the wheel!!!

 bit pusher: Eh, how about one hand on the wheel? The other one is still gripping a corona ... the things they let me get away with down here. Seatbelt is on, however ... that's the only traffic violation you can get pulled over here for. Everything else is ignored.

As to freshness, I've been separated for 9 months. Divorce went final Jan. 9th, and I got word last week out here in the boondocks. It apparently hasn't been good for my stability, although I was slipping before this.

Anyhoo ... thanks for the words. It helps, even though it's anonymous and distant.

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