It's awful and sad to choose 'suicide' as the keyword to my first Icarus entry.. because I  really hate to be less than sunshine to people, even in a completely grave situation.

Until I can manage to get into a hospital, I am holding on tight to the part of me that doesn't pay heed to the voices. It is the part which, even though it wants to die just the same, is unwilling to take that step. I'm more fortunate - or whatever - than a lot of people that way, having a resistance to it. That, I believe, is why I belong here. The space between brilliance and madness. Today, when I first typed in the URL for this site and it loaded, I cried. Mostly for whatever reason when I saw the black and white picture on the home page which says "home" in white letters (which may or may not still be on there as you read this, depending on how often those pictures are rotated). Something about it just felt like.. you know, home.

When I realized the final decision to die was coming up on me so quick, I decided to go out and drink a whole lot and have an absolutely fabulous night. Drinking is not something I do really at all anymore. Like literally, I have a glass of wine once or twice a week and I dont drink liquor or beer. I think a person who does not have dependence on substances must have the sense to become absolutely sober, so they may be sure the madness is real. O.K., I knew it was real for years, but who knows.. I've never had a "problem" with drinking and drugs, they're just stupid and they cloud your judgement and I am mature enough to admit that. Nevertheless, I went out Thursday night to the bar where I *barely* book the music, and I sat on one of the bass speakers right next to the only local band I will go out to see, The T-Lo Effect. Usually I will dance but I was feeling weak and sad so I just nodded my head, threw my arms around enthusiastically, clacked glasses with friends who would come up to dance next to me. Most of them dont have a clue what it's like to be like me, but I had told a few important people that I might be going away for a while. I knew already that night that I would be going back to the hospital soon, and hoped (still do) to hold on until then.

So anyway I said like 3 goodbyes after the band was done, and drove home, deciding that I had my share of the fun. 3 glasses of wine and a live set of T-Lo songs, looking fabulous in my technicolor dreamcoat and glitter-smeared cheeks. However, as I pulled into the drive next to my apartment, an upstairs neighbor and 3 of her girlfriends decided to hijack me back to another bar. I've never agreed to go out with her before because I  don't often go out these days but.. I'll say that the situation which followed is only relevant in the way that I mentioned before, sort of a last hurrah before lockdown. I will go no further than to mention fire, booze, nudity, marshmallow cream everywhere. And the first hangover I've had in over a year.

And at some point early on at the bar I ran into an old high school friend who told me about the Icarus Project. Thank you Matt L, which leads me to the point of this entry which I have decided to cut short:

A mutual friend of Matt and I (who I will call Jane because her life reminds me of the song "Jane Says") hanged herself less than 2 weeks ago. He had grown up with her, while I had only met her in 2003 when we went to Bonnaroo together. She and I immediately clicked although at the time we did not recognize the true reasons. Our friendship blossomed in '05 when I had moved back from trying to live in New Orleans and St. Louis without success and was basically homeless and hopeless back here in Michigan. Jane was the only friend I ever had who understood what it was like to be internally tortured and mentally ill, except where I [am] calculated and cognizant, she [was] unstoppably sweet to people. On the sick side of things, she was always Always worse off than me. She was also the only friend I had who knew where I was coming from when I had to be hospitalized that summer because she had been in and out of the hospital often.

I have to wrap this up because I am running out of steam right now, can't keep on topic. Normally I would be getting ready for work right now but I walked out of there Wednesday with no promise that I'd be back. I did however end up making sure someone was working for me (the calculated sensible Chris). So the part of this story that bothers me the most is basically that the same weekend Jane hanged herself, I finished work on a new album of mostly bipolar scherzoid poetic type songs, on which there is a song where I graphically describe hanging myself in the second person, making claims that "one of these days they're gonna find ya hangin". Anyone reading this can probably understand how this situation would mess with my head.

Have to see this new doctor at 9 AM Monday morning and there's a lot of blank time between now and then. If the chatter in my head and the weight of death don't convince me otherwise, I'll make it, and write again later.

Some might say (as some did in the days after Jane's death) that it is somewhat a relief when one who is in such undending pain ends their own life.. but the void it leaves in their loved ones is still an awful, dark one that far outweighs the relief. So, peace and health to all of you, and your friends and families. I wish you the best in this battle.

Love, Chris the Trumpeter Swan.