Such a pinnacle of cashmere-soft emotion arises upon returning home, and i mean home; the room in which i spent my early adolescence, in my mammas house. The soft hum of Topanga Canyon Blvd. right nearby, the crickets, the sagebrush-infused, quiet air. Moments ago, i sat on mammas bed & talked with her, just like how we did in our closest moments growing up, then we held each other, a moment longer than usual. Heartfelt. Real.
Contrast seems to be the main undercurrent in my life right now, the river of change swelling into a larger flood with each new day. Months ago, in December, i entered the rehab community in effort to change my life from ‘heroin addict’ into something a bit more shiny; and to scuba dive into the depths of my murky emotional state after 5 hard years of abuse and search the ocean floor for a pebble of hope, but instead of a pebble, i found a seed, something that i could nurture and struggle with, something that could grow, full bore, into the illustrious life that i already had but then
lost in the thick opium fog. With that seed of hope, i could maaaaaybeeee one day (soon even) become that person again, every day a new hunter Thompson novel, every personal encounter an empathetic cirque de solelil, but this time sans the twack, this time without the tar, the foil, the flame.
Thats the poetic version of it. If i were to break it down to brass tacks, nuts & bolts, id say the last 6 months have been a total cluster-fuck. Being contained in rehab for 45 days was profound, painful, educational, and belly laughing all at the same time. Early days out of the heroin kick are eerie as all hell, a roller coaster free fall “6-flags” ride, flames and all. In the course of 5 minutes, i would go from loving a conversation to wanting to hide, wanting to jump the fence and go get high (which i did at one point), completely understanding the program to hating the living shit out of the program and then wanting to read or play guitar, all in a moments time. But then it evened out, i made beautiful and close friends there much like the friends made in a Theatre production, a tight knit group of a dozen or so people who love each other as their own blood, probably know and care about more for each other than anyone else on this earth, with the bittersweet melancholy knowledge of how fleeting it all is…that no matter how much we bleed together, no matter how heartfelt our connections, the group itself is a means to an end and will inevitably end soon. So then i graduated rehab, took that ‘first drive’ out of there, a drive notorious for the vivid colors, the swirling emotions, that crisp breath of freedom.
For sleep reasons at the moment, im going to circle back later to the incredible experience at the Sober house, the dark and depraved relapses, the revelations, and the final letting go of Mighty Queen Tyrant heroin from my life. Tonight i must sleep ’cause tomorrow im DJ’ing at some dive…
For the last two weeks, ive been in a desolate industrial area of Oakland, working hard & heavy construction to convert our space into a place i can grow my seed of hope into an analog/digital empire, take a new stab at the music production and later the live show, and, more importantly, to do my part to balance the terror of life with the beauty of life, by way of music and art and bringing people together.
In Short: ITS ON.
truly,
rithma
