Sam Paul - Why I Committed Suicide

We saw “great” Lake Michigan; it looked dangerously huge and very cold. I also set out in search of the fabled cheap beer that I heard lives up in the heart of brew land. When I finally found a beer store, after much effort, the prices weren’t any better than at home so I ended up saying “fuck it”. I don’t really care for beer that much anyway.

Last night I went out with Michael and Leann in St. Paul to eat at one of their friend’s houses. I had a really good time. Their friend is a roommate with this speed freak who’s in a band with Steve Albini. Steve Albini is the guy who produced Nirvana’s In Utero album and I was visibly impressed even though the guy just went in his room and slammed the door, probably to do more speed. We cooked and ate a huge Italian meal with fresh herbs, wine and French bread. Even the table was formally set with candles and the works. My brother brought along a bottle of nice scotch and some wine so I tried to get really drunk but wasn’t too bad off. I brought some pot along with me but I was hesitant to smoke it because one of my distant cousins was also there and everyone else was a lot older than me. My brother said it would be ok though so I smoked a nice bowl with the host and a few other people around the table. They acted like it was a big deal for someone to share their weed with strangers and it was only later that I found out from my brother that marijuana costs $65 a quarter up here for crappy schwag!

Later Michael showed me the house he’s bought and the music studio he’s setting up in the basement, which I thought was badass. We were both more than a little sauced by that point and I felt bad because I knew he had to get up early and go to work the next morning. I think I prompted him to drink a little more than he was used to, I know I drank more than I was used to.

Right now, I’m staying at my other Grandma’s house in St. Paul. This grandma and I have never really quite clicked, I suspect it’s because I’m just a grandkid by marriage and she hardly ever sees me. Still, she usually sends $2 (for a drink?) and some slippers for Christmas every year and that’s something I guess. I’m sleeping in the basement of her old house. For some reason, all the houses up here have basements and when I was a kid I used to be scared to death of being down here. It’s still kind of creepy but I like sitting away from everyone else in the house and there’s a tiny black and white TV so I can watch something besides news and “60 Minutes”. The little kids are scared of the basement so I get to stay pretty isolated and write a little bit while I’m self-sequestered down in the dungeon.

Minnesota is nice. I think I could get used to being housebound all winter. It might serve to stimulate the creative juices. I’ve noticed that while it’s warm during these summer months everyone is always doing something active all the time. I think it’s because they know in the back of their mind that winter is imminent and there’s only a short window to get it all in. The constant heat and year roundnice climate in Texas just makes everyone slowwww and more relaxed with their time. When you know it’s going to be nice again tomorrow, why bother to hurry through today? That’s just my personal theory though.

Man my head is spinning so much lately. Jenifer’s new apartment out back is good and bad. Sex with her has re-intensified thanks to Jenifer being more comfortable and free spirited in her own home. She’s more sensual with an aggressive twist, free to cry out or indulge while we’re fucking, having sex or making love. There is a difference between the three terms, not to mention the various pleasurable subsets in each category, which we’ve enthusiastically explored. Without fear of intrusion and interruption the world simply becomes her and me (and sometimes Superlover, that randy devil).

Despite all the creative draining, life goes on with each day bringing about its simple joys. I’m so amazed we haven’t gotten sick of each other yet and I think Jen is sometimes puzzled about that paradox as well. We eat a lot of parmesan pasta, leftover pizza and we’re helping keep Sprite and Snapple in business. I smoke a lot of pot and she smokes a lot of cigarettes and we both force our music on each other in a romantic mind-melding sort of way. It’s all a big extension of the “ I don’t know where you end and I begin” phenomenon. We still drive RedOne everywhere and sometimes it seems like the days go by too quickly for us to properly appreciate them.

My pot plant, which I had to transport to the backyard due to size constraints, is flourishing with fat juicy buds out by the skate ramp and awaiting harvest. I’m happy about so much, aggravated by so little and appreciated by one.

Jenifer’s stopped doing any cocaine now because of me, which reaffirms my love for her. One of my first nights back from Minnesota we christened her apartment with lots of cocaine and anticipated sex. Guess which idea was mine and which was hers? She ended up having another seizure. This one was even worse than the one before and it scared me so much. One minute we were flirting and sexually serious, shooting up and laughing about how my dick gets soft after a bump and the next minute she was convulsing so hard I couldn’t even hold her down on the bed as her body flung itself around in a sick series of spasms. I knew more about what to do this time since I had researched about cocaine overdose and seizures in the UNT medical library after what happened before, but it wasn’t much help in the heat of the moment. Oh God, I was so scared again. When the seizures stopped she just lay there unconscious for the longest time, so fucking long that I was preparing for the worst. Visions of our brief life together flashed through my eyes, I was wondering and panicking about how I would tell her Mom that I had betrayed and destroyed her most wondrous creation, while I shouted Jenifer’s name over and over, hoping for any sign of life and clarity from her frail body.

When she finally awoke it got even worse. She just suddenly came to life disoriented and was fiercely fighting as if she had been trapped in a nightmarish hell the whole time she was out. It really spooked me seeing her awake but not aware and I kept trying to hold her close to me until it all passed but one of her fists caught me hard in the jaw and she went for my eyes with her fingernails. I decided constraint might not be a wise action at that point so I just watched to make sure she didn’t hurt herself until everything calmed down, praying she didn’t have any brain damage.

Jenifer calmed down eventually (thank you God!) and when she was “normal” again with no recollection of anything happening, again, I freaked out on her. I was crying and shaking and trying to explain what kind of fucked-up shit I had just gone through to the only other person who was there. I felt so small, so powerless, flinching from her condolences and assurances that she was ok. Lord, do anything you want to me, but please don’t hurt her, don’t take her away, okay?

After it happened, I knew if she didn’t stop craving the sweet rush, she was going to die. I sat down and explained it to her the next day as gently as I could. I explained how I would never ask her to place any kind of limits on herself because of me, I told her how I loved her for her spirit and independence as much as anything and also how uncomfortable and worried I was because of her. Like a businessman handing in his resignation over a disagreement about an immoral company policy I told her that I was going to have to break up with her. Oh it sounds so shallow to say it that way and it really ripped me up to even have to say it. It hurt me to merely vocalize a vision of us being apart, but I had to convey to Jen that I love her too fucking much to be here and watch her die. I told her that if she continued shooting coke the way she was that she will eventually die, and that I couldn’t handle being around when it happened. It isn’t my place to restrict her and as painful as it was, I told her I was going to have to leave. Maybe I wasn’t being fair to her because I know a lot of the fault and same desires are inside of me too, but some kind of confrontation had to happen and luckily it worked out for the best. Both of us were blubbering towards the end and I imagine I looked pretty pathetic to her with snot running out of my nose and big puffy eyes, unable to even look at her face as I said the hardest words I ever had to say.