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Creating a book about your dog who just died a few months ago, not reallly something I would recommend, nor was it something I set out to do, But in those days and actually those minutes after I realized he was not breathing and he was gone. I knda lost it. It was like I was not in the world anymore, my eyes were, and my body, but me, no, and nothing that was real minutes earlier, none of it was real now, not me, not jackson laying there, not the words in my head, which I didn´t want in my head so I started yelling and writing and trying to believe Jackson was hearing me. I wrote him letter after letter, some short, Just a few words, some just me sobbing away words that were really maybe just sounds. I was just hanging by some threads that I prayed would just snap and let me fall, and that´s how it started, those first four days after he died, him and me in a hotel room until the manager came and made me take his body to get cremated. So that was it, I just couldn´t deal, and I really didn´t really care if I dealt or not. I really didn´t care what anyone thought about me not dealing, and i just wrote and wrote telling Jackson how much I needed him back, that I didn´t think I was going to be able to breathe through this, and nothing at all made any sense anymore, and why didn´t he warn me, and i´m sorry that I let him die, and that the vet and me, fuck, and how lost I was without him and how sorry I was for every stupid thing I did instead of just spending all that time with him doing anything that was more worthy of this life. and I grew dreads and the longest beard I ever had, like Tom Hanks in that movie where he makes friends with a volleyball. I am still lost. I am still no further along, except at the urging of a few people who saw the things I wrote, I was told that this had to be a book. Well, that was easy for them to say, but in no position to have an opinion back then, I started writing more formally, and now I am 149 chapters deep, and 1000 photographsand counting, so many cool images of eleven years travelling this earth together, three girlfriends, one wife, three countries, 238 hotel rooms, 127 motel rooms, from Miami to NY to LA to famous movie stars houses to homeless in a land rover, from the Soho Grand Hotel to this beach. Somedays I still feel the wind whistle through my bones and swirl in my chest where the broken pieces of a heart hang swinging in the wind like a sign long since faded hanging above some old western set. I haven´t a clue or a wtf mostly alot of days, for sure Im still not ready to try and edit the 149 chapters, but they are there and for all I know I might have really written an actual book.
so more news coming, but for now take care and go throw a ball for your dog right now. I for sure can tell you that you will never regret that decision.