“Women have always been my weakness…
Lucky for me they have always also been … my strength…”

Prologue:

Once again, I return to this most lucid reverie…

Gather my wits (or whats left of them, at least)

I:

It’s August 3rd, Friday night ooops Scratch that, Saturday Morning.. 1:35 am. Andrew and Lauren are in the other room playing Magic. I bored of that hours ago… drinking, alone. Surfing fubar and the House of the rising sons blog, listening to music online …

Wild horses.. sing it, Mick, you motherfucker.

I guess it isn’t going to take wild horses, after all. Just one VERY determined woman. Moving out of the house next week… 10 years gone.

Blows my mind just to consider it all. Getting old. Friday night- and this house is empty.
Unreal…
Once upon a time, that wouldn’t have even been thought of…

Life changes.

“There goes my hero, watch him as he goes…”

I was my own hero,- for such a long time.

…

Now, not so much. All the pride, all the immediacy, all the anger, all the pain, all the fire…All the things I loved so much to hate, All the fight in my soul that made it worth it all-

Has burned out.

Not enough passion to light a fucking cigarette, it feels like, sometimes. But still, I carry on, carryin on. I don’t have so much of a death wish anymore. I don’t go crazy as much as I once did. I don’t know if I am getting old and wise, But I know I am growing old.

And resenting it. And yet, not knowing what I am still supposed to resent, after all these years. I rebelled all my life. And NOW, nothing left to rebel at. Sink into myself, I’d laugh at all my wild misconceptions and how wrong I was about how I’d turn out- but I find that its just not funny.

II.

South of Heaven’s eerie opening pours in, a flood of atmosphere, filling the empty crevices of my mind with doom and gloom and the purely righteous emotion of self-hate. And the only commandment of all reveals itself as: Thou Shalt Not Rise Above.

On earth, as it is in heaven, O’ Lord.

And all I can do upon the morning of this groundhog day revelation is exhale deeply and take another swig off this beer. Thank the lord for IT, if nothing else.

If it were not for something to numb the sense of futility, I could not stand this life for long.

“Separate the fact from fiction” … Well, hell, sounds easy, doesn’t it?
The trouble is, that the fiction tempts as much as the fact doesn’t.

“I wish I would’ve met you,
But now it’s a little late..

They think that your ending was all wrong…”

The ending is right. It’s the beginning that fucks me up.


III.

And a brief moment of silence, and Dylan enters from an empty hall.. “Here comes the story of the hurricane..”

And then the story takes me away, the music peels me off the floor and lifts me up, and I DO rise above, if only for a few minutes. Bless ya, Bob.

The music intoxicates as it fabricates- another existence, another level, another life, another world- and more importantly- Another ME.

And nothing is more fantastic than just escaping the chains of this meager existence…


Step out the front door like a ghost into a fog where no one notices the contrast of white on whitehouse

In between the moon and you-

Angels get a better view

Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right

I walk in the air, between the rain, through myself, back again…

I don’t know

My heart says I’m dying
through the door I hear her crying
Why? I dont know…

Round here I always stand up straight
Round here something mindlessly debates

Kirk came from nowhere with a suitcase in his hand
he said he’d like to meet a guy who looks like he’s supposed to..
he walks along the edge of where the desert meets the sand
Just like hes walking on a wire in the circus

he parks his car outside his house
Takes his masks off
Says hes close to understanding himself
he knows he’s more than just a little misunderstood
he has trouble acting normal when hes nervous

Round here he’s carving out his game
Round here he wishes he was just the same
Round here we talk in inverted little lines
But we sacrifice for shams
Round here I’m slipping through my hands

She says its only in my head
He says shhh I know its only in my head
But the devil on his shoulder in the empty spot says
man you should try to take a shot

Cant you see my walls are crumbling?
Then he looks up at the building and says hes thinking of jumping
he says hes tired of life=

he must be tired of something

Round here I always lose my mind
Round here - got lots of time
Round here were never give up early
And nobody makes their fate

I cant see nothing, nothing round here

Let me fall when Im falling

Self-Victimization

It's a lovely existence, O' yes it is.

Not profound.

oh no (es)

But- it- is - a lovely thing anyway.

I'll pass on the over-reaching deep philosophical statement right this moment.

And embrace what simplicity I can hold to, (maybe only for the fast moment that I can subdue my own senses-)

and- it'll be alright.

The spectre of our lives rises up to overshadow us at times. And at times, even I (your rakish semi-evil hero) cower in fear at my shortcomings.

Give up those fantastic (and indeed, less-than-fantastic) expectations.

You won't ever live up to them. And even if you did- you'd never realize it.

Suckers. Aint we all,,,,

Reminisces lost

I accept the blanks in my memory. I even appreciate them.

Because I know theres a good reason to forget those particular memories.

Reality fades... and so-do- I.

Things are coming full circle so fast these days that the room is spinning...

I wake up and remember old dreams. And it ALL makes sense.

Then it doesn't again.

God, you tricksy muthafucka. I'd be irritated if I gave a fuck. And, sadly (most sadly of alll to myself- I realize )- I DONT.

Today's travails and tribulatons are NEW. That helps a tiny bit. This stagnant pool is deep.

Yes, it is.

Sometimes I wish it waren' t... o' yes I do.

I'd like to say the chaos keeps me sane- but I think we all know better.

I once told a crowded room full of of my fellow- uh - whatevers- that I thank them for their pitiful lives and adventures- because all of their efforts to live, love, what-the-fuck ever - managed to keep me entertained.

And now, I wonder who my own life's struggle is entertaining...

If anyone=

I maintain my super-egotism on the subject... Q: If a tree falls in the forest-
A: Nothing happens unless I am there to witness it.

Want a friend? In the words of the immortal vampyre Yoakum, - "I aint that lonely yet"

I am the Punishment of God.

I AM THE PUNISHMENT OF GOD.
IF YOU HAD NOT COMMITTED GREAT SINS,
GOD WOULD NOT HAVE SENT
A PUNISHMENT LIKE ME UPON YOU.

Aging ungracefully

Life will really, really get you down if you try to hold on to "being cool".

I was cool once. But, Old aint cool. Not by a longshot.

You will drive yourself mad trying to hold on to your youth.

Let - it - Go.

Embrace the important things in life (FINALLY!) and give up your wet dreams of fame and fortune.

For me- I'm a really great dad. But that shit just dont seem all that damn exciting. And, its not. But- its a worthwhile reason for existence. Being a cool guy who bangs multiple different women each week- is definitely well, for lack of a better term- fucking cool. But, its a lot of work. Back when it was easy- well, it was a lot cooler. Now, its all a big fucking drag on my illusion of self worth.

So, I guess I am trying to convince myself to give up my decadent whoredog ways and simply be "the dad.". I knOw I'm good at it. I KNOW that nothing else actually makes me feel accomplished. It just seems so mundane sometimes.

I got to wrap my head around the important shit and let this youth fall away. Youth is fun, fucking, and above all- Folly. And its good, goddamn its so good.

But I realize that time has passed.It's time to give up my dreams of and for myself- and start realizing the dreams of my kids.

letter to Dad

The first, and only letter, that I ever wrote to my dad - (he didnt take it well, by the way)

11/13/95

Dad,

I feel that I must talk with you, and since you refuse to talk, I suppose that this letter will have to do. I don't understand exactly why you act the way you do, but you are hurting everyone around you, including yourself. No one in the world has hurt me more than or as many times as you have. You have made me cry all through my life, even up to the present. From the time I was five years old and you told my mother in front of me and Ryan that you only had one son up - Ryan Berryhill, up until this very day, when you lash out at all of us here at the office, you have hurt me emotionally. I always forgave you every single thing. I have always done as everyone here does. We try to ignore the things you do and say and let life go on, hoping that one day you will simply change.

Well, I guess that I realize that you aren't going to change by yourself. I have offered you help in the past, I offered to go with you to Alcoholics Anonymous, as both of us alcoholics, not just me going with you to support you, but both of us together, supporting each other. I would do whatever it takes to help you be happy. Every time you curse me, or Grandma, or Ryan you are only making things worse. I know that we retaliate, at least Ryan and I do. For a time I believed you. I thought that Grandma and Grandpa had done terrible things to you as a child to make you that way, but then I realized that you treat me and Ryan the same way- Like we are all shit and your life is so bad for having to deal with us. But let me tell you something, Ryan and I have never done a damn thing to YOU. Never, besides rebelling against the way you treat us. I have never done anything to hurt you, no matter how many times I locked myself in a closet, crying , wishing that you were dead, I have never done anything to you. I never even struck back at you all those times you hit me, and up until a year ago I would never have thought of doing so. I don't believe Grandma did anything to you anymore, except spoil you rotten. You treat her worse than any of us, worse than the horrible way that you treat your sons. You curse her and yell at her and basically spit in her face. She is the main reason you live the way you do, expensive car, expensive house, pool, You would not have jack shit if it weren't for her- I know that you would argue about that, but you know that its true.

Beyond all of that- Betrayal of family you also are lazy and don't bother to show up for work half the time. You bitch about working all your life and you need a break once in a while - Well, Mr. Workaholic you have missed exactly 3 weeks and 4 days in the past 3 months. And oddly enough, one of those weeks was a PAID Vacation. You have some audacity, to spit in all of our faces once again, by making everyone work that much harder in order to get things done.

And today, Grandpa and Grandma really need a break, they were wanting to go on vacation but you had to go off on a drunk again, what - overworked again ? I don't think so. You bring a lot of unneeded stress on all of us.

I would say that you should be ashamed, but I don't think that you know what guilt or shame is. If you did, you probably couldn't be able to look anyone in the eyes around here. I love you, but you can only beat a dog so much before he bites back, and everyone around here has been kicked just about to death.
Just think about it, reflect on what you want out of life, Do you want us all to hate you? Sometimes I think that you do, it would be easier for you to continue hating us. Well, we all love you, dad. We just wish you could get your life straight.


Your son,