family reunion, Santa Paula, California

my California

all these people, family

lots of Mexicans!

I am the uncle

I play songs on my guitar

I sing kids to sleep

brothers and sister

cousins, nieces, nephews, friends

I belong with them

Forcing myself to have hope

Look, man, I'm sorry about my state of mind lately. Yesterday I just was in this anxiety state where I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry.

It's okay, farmboy. It's more than okay. It gave me this glimpse into you, into what you call your "mental illness." It must be a living hell for you when...I'm not sure how to put it...

It is mental illness. I know this.

What happens is that I become somebody really...out of control. And it is a frightening thing after it's gone. It feels like I have no control over it. It fuckin' escalates and escalates and...it's like I sort of "wake up;" I de-escalate, I guess. And hope that I haven't done too much damage to other people or myself.

It's fucked. It's really fucked. Nobody can have any idea what it's like.

I'm sorry, farmboy.

We're just sorry creatures, aren't we?

I just wanted to apologize. I didn't want to leave for California without talking to you.

California? That's right, I remember now -- you're going to your family reunion at your sister's place.

Santa Paula, California. I love that town. I spent a lot of time there in happier days, when i was younger. When life had promise.

You have happy days in front of you, farmboy.

I don't know, man. I just don't know anymore, and that scares me. I feel like I'm forcing myself to have hope, and that all the evidence is pointing the other way. The hopeless way. I feel like all my trying is in vain. I mean, I'm kinda back to normal now, but hope, man...it's still so fuckin' scarce.

I feel bad, too, 'cause I get angry and then I curse. And I don't mean words like "fuck" and that kind of thing. Those are pretty fuckin' harmless. (laughs) It's, you know, taking the Lord's name in vain, that kind of stuff...

You don't think God can handle that?

Oh, I know He can, but...I don't know...

God forgives you, farmboy. You, on the other hand, have a much harder time.

I know.

Did you apologize to God?

I did, yeah.

Then let it go and move on.

Okay.

You're pretty hesitant there, farmboy.

It's the best I can do, man.

Are you going to be all right to go to California, farmboy?

I think so. I almost called it off, but, fuck, what's that gonna do?

Are you packed?

Just about.

Remember to take your clonazepam...your anxiety meds.

They're in there, believe me.

And don't be afraid to take them if you need to. All right, farmboy?

I won't.

I'm serious. And take it easy down there. Don't stress yourself out unnecessarily. Be with your family. Be with your friends. These people love you.

Yeah...

There are phones there...

I'll have my cell phone with me.

Do you have a lap top?

No. I can't afford things like that, man.

Well, if you're at somebody's house checking your email, drop me a line, let me know how you're doing. Call anytime, day or night.

I will, man. Thanks.

Have fun, okay?

Okay.

Remember, even if I'm not there, I'm still with you. Just think of me supporting you.

Thanks, man.

You be good now, okay?

(farmboy starts tearing up)

It's gonna be okay, farmboy. Think of that Bob Marley song:

Don't worry about a thing

'Cause every little thing gonna be all right

Thanks, man.

...like a fuckin' deformed puppy

I am so glad you called, farmboy. I have been so worried...

I'm sorry. I just couldn't fuckin' do it any longer.

Do what?

Whatever. It doesn't matter. Every fuckin' thing I do turns to shit.

farmboy...

Look, okay, I'm not gonna kill myself, okay? I shouldn't have mentioned anything. But it's not just money and it's not just that I...I don't know what...I think maybe I need to stop going to the coffeehouse for awhile...maybe a long while.

See, what I meant is that I may have to do some research about the various ways of killing yourself, because there's a good chance that that's where my life will lead. I can't do this forever, this...life of fuckin' poverty, where people are just out there with their fuckin' hands open for more money all the fuckin' time and our own fuckin' government has turned into our enemy. Things don't change for me. This is my fuckin' curse in life, man. You fuckin' work and put in effort and none of it means a fuckin' thing. And I do not see what my alternative is. I'm gonna be old and I will have no one to help me, much less our fuckin' government.

Well, fuck all these people, and fuck the hand of fate that gave me such a fucked-up childhood...

Wait a minute. You've never told me...

And I'm not gonna tell you now. Ain't no way. Fuckin' fucked up life of loneliness. I've fuckin' had it. Even my so-called friends at the coffeehouse -- fuck them. They ask me to play and then take it back? I don't see them taking themselves back. The only fuckin' thing I'm good at and God knows I'm just a fuckin' failure...

farmboy, stop...

NO!

I am so fuckin' angry. I should have been drowned...

farmboy...

...like a fuckin' deformed puppy, man. Fuck the coffeehouse, fuck the fuckin' public school system in this stupid fucked-up city. I should have never left Austin, man. Fuck the Pacific Northwest and its pretentious precious ways.

Listen, farmboy...

I am NOT gonna listen. I need help, man. I've got this fuckin' mental illness, I've got this fuckin' poverty, I am alone, I am ugly, I am untalented, I am stupid, all that stuff everybody told me I was. I cannot sing. Make sure I don't sing. (starts sobbing) Fuck, man, I have so much hate right now that's it's ripping my heart apart...

farmboy...

And you can't help me. Nobody can help me. I should have put myself out of my misery a long long time ago. There are some things that can't be fixed, and I am one of them.

I need to go, man. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't worry, I'm too much of a fuckin' pussy to commit suicide. But I can't fuckin' take this brain of mine any more.

Hey, farmboy, it's...

(the phone is hung up on farmboy's end)

Suicide may be a viable option

farmboy! Good to see you. Feeling any better than yesterday?

No. Feeling just as bad if not worse. I've come to the conclusion that suicide may be a viable option after all.

(alarmed) You're not serious...

Let's just say I have this in my mind for the future. Because, from the way I see things, nothing ever really fuckin' changes. And I may need to do some research because this is the way my life seems to go. This doesn't change. I go through these periods of bad luck or something...It never evens out and there aren't enough good things to make up for the shit. (starts to cry) Fuck, man. I'm sorry. I think I'm being punished for something...

farmboy...

I'm sorry. I'm fuckin' worthless. I should have been drowned when I was a baby. That's what they do to puppies, you know. When they don't measure up...

Listen, farmboy, take a deep breath...

It's too late, man. I'm sorry.

(farmboy leaves and goes outside and gets in his truck. The interviewer follows him. farmboy turns the ignition key and the truck starts.)

farmboy, wait!

(tears are streaming down farmboy's face)

I'm sorry.

(farmboy drives away)

farmboy!

not long for this world

I feel as frozen as the winter wind

searching for warmth inside your skin

still waiting for my life to begin

I am not long for this world

I need your touch

I need to call you mine

a train to travel down the timberline

most of all I need to turn back time

I am not long for this world

and if you call me

I may not be there

and if you call me

I may not be there

I swear to God, for goodness' sake

I pray the Lord my soul to take

and hope that I was not a mistake

I am not long for this world

and if you call me

I may not be there

and if you call me

I may not be there

I feel as frozen as the winter wind

searching for warmth inside your skin

notify my next of kin

I am not long for this world

and if you call me

I hope I will be there

and if you call me

I hope I can be there

and if you call me

I pray I may be there

and if you call me

I will be there...

if I can...

o my pizza pie

o my pizza pie

made you with my own two hands

crusty one are you

e. v. olive oil

oregano and whole wheat

mozzarella melts

sea salt, tomato

mushrooms, freshly ground pepper

four fifty degrees

cool it. consume it,

but eat it really really slow

supper supremo!

This is not a performance

Bad fuckin' day, man.

Have you gone to your counselor lately, farmboy?

Went this morning. It was useless. Now, he wasn't useless. I was useless. I was in panic mode and I was emotional and crying over the financial shit and this gig I'm not playing...

Which is?

Which I don't want to talk about.

That's fine.

Now, he can't really do much in a situation like that. I felt sorry for him, you know?

So he was fine. I...I don't know what to say about myself...

farmboy, this is not a performance.

I know. And believe me, I've thought about that aspect of seeing a counselor. That's the last place I want to perform. Shit needs to be honest, man.

Fuck, man, I need a book to read. Something to get lost in that travels well. Maybe John Irving. Maybe John Steinbeck.

Give your mind a rest.

Yeah, man.

Take any clonazepam lately?

You know, you think I'd be living on the fuckin' things, verdad? I took one today. I took one Friday. Fuck. Maybe I am living on the fuckin' things.

I wouldn't worry about it, farmboy. You're on a pretty small dosage.

Well, man, I'm gonna take off and make a pizza for supper. You're welcome to come over to eat, man.

I'd like that, but I can't tonight. Can I have a rain check?

Of course. Come by any time, man.