Chasing the Dragon

I love scary movies. I always have. When I was younger, like maybe ten or twelve, I would visit my cousin and spend a week or so during the summers with him. He was four or five years older than me, and always had the coolest toys. He was one of the first persons I knew that had their own personal computer; back in the days of the floppy disk. He also had an extensive movie collection, most of them of the horror genre. My favorites were the Nightmare on Elm Street series. We would stay up late at night and watch them. Then, I would walk the long, ominous hallway to my aunt’s bedroom and crawl in to her king size bed; where I would have nightmares, and keep her up all hours of the night with my tossing and turning. She would scold my cousin in the morning, and the next night we would do it all again.

I look back on that time in my life with bittersweetness. Both my aunt and uncle passed away several years ago. They had sold their house in Scottsboro, AL and moved to my hometown a few years prior to their passing. But I can close my eyes and still hear the sound of the screen door slam shut, echoing through the garage. I can hear my aunt’s raspy laugh, and see the flickering dance of the fluorescent light in the kitchen. I learned to knee board on the lake across the street from that house, and played “war games” in the woods behind it. I remember swimming in their pool in the summer, and playing board games in my cousin’s bedroom floor, like it was just a brief moment ago, not well over twenty years or more.  

Freddy Krueger and the nightmare movies were a part of those great memories. Up, late at night, watching movies that terrified me, knowing I would probably get scared out of my wits, and loving it. One time, my cousin disappeared to the bathroom for a bit. When he returned he had two bloody bite marks on his neck, and looked at me with wild staring eyes, never saying a word. Just staring at me. I knew he was only fooling, and trying to scare me. And even as I tried to convince myself it was a prank, and knowing it was, there was still some doubt as to whether my cousin had just been bitten by a vampire or werewolf or some other ungodly creature. 

Morning would come, and the terrors of the night were forgotten; as it often happens in life. 

There have only been a small handful of movies that have actually terrified me as an adult, few and far between I would say, if any at all. Some make me jump, but few truly scare me. I still watch them. Still hoping for the one that will send chills up my spine and cause me to draw my legs up beneath me for fear of a hand reaching from under the couch to grab me, and pull me down to a hellish end. I think it’s similar to what drug users call "chasing the dragon”; which simplistically put, means to chase the ultimate high, which for many people is their first high, never to be reached again, but they always chase it, searching for that same euphoric feeling. It’s the same for me, I suppose. Always searching for that feeling, of times that are long since gone, the euphoria of innocence.

Short, Not So Sweet

Well, you want to talk about some shit? How’s this? One of my best friends for almost twenty years has just been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. And another friend of mine, my sister from another mister, has skin cancer.

Are you fucking kidding me? No, for real. What kind of horse shit is this? 

I’m sorry. But I really would like to go postal on the Big C right now ... like Bruce Lee kung fu style. 

I was at my friend’s house this weekend. As she laid on the couch, I could feel myself having anxiety, PTSD, or something like flashbacks. It was like having deja vu, except it was her in pain and misery, not me. We watched the movie “Sisters”, which by the way is like the third time I’ve seen that movie now. Still just as funny. I laughed so hard I peed a little. Then I freaked out wondering if I was having bladder issues. Because, you know, I once did; after my surgery. Most likely one of the other side effects from the radiation in my pelvic area is what they told me. I had to take medication for it. It’s better now. Thank God. But that didn’t stop me from worrying about it all weekend. 

It’s hard going through it. It’s hard watching people you love go through it. And it’s hard having been through it and knowing what your loved ones are dealing with, and still have yet to face. 

I suppose on the one hand, this is just more motivation for me to hurry up and whip this bitch for good, so that I can help take care of my friends. So that we can all grow old together and one day look back on this and laugh about the time when we all kicked cancer’s ass. 

Here’s to ALL the survivors out there. May we beat the odds and be more than a statistic! 

Live the life you love. 

Love the life you live.