Drunken memories

Ah, the glory days that weren't so glorious, but they weren't so pretend as these days spent in stuidies of self control and passion management...

There was this one time, back in the day...

It was another party at Jeremy Cunningham's... And, of course, I was as fucked up as you can get and still be standing. Jeremy was a thief. And I mean that in the best possible way. He was good. I once shoplifted a TENT. Compared to Jeremy, I was a rank amateur. He would hold up the zippos in front of the cashier while he paid for his gas- ask how much it was, wave it in the cahsier's face and slide it right into his pocket, and she'd never ever know the difference. He was a slick, slick thief.

I grew up poor. And being poor means you have to find your own entertainment. No video games for the white trash kids in the sticks... No siree. We ran through corn fields naked, we tore shit up, including each other. We tested the boundaries ... of our parents, our neighbors, the law... We had a hellofa time, finding that entertainment. It was so much more creative before we were handed the family torch of alcohol. Then it got sort of predictable. But I like to think I added my own brand of flair...

I was a little fucker, back then- smallest kid in my class. I barely topped 5'0 as a freshman. I made up for it with a big fucking mouth and using my brain. I prided myself on letting my mouth get me out of fights that my mouth had gotten me into in the first place. And, in the offchance I couldn't talk my way out something (which was rare)- I was more than happy to fight. I had four brothers. My two older brothers were step-brothers. And, to add to the pain that brothers inflict, they didnt ever really like my mom, til the end, when they all made peace with her before she died... But, that makes for a lot of unnecessary asskickings. They treated me, my brother and their little brother equally in one instance: We had the RULES.

Rule 1: No little brother shall ever be able to kick his older brothers ass. (There's something to this one. As the middle boy, I will tell you this- NEITHER of my little brothers have ever kicked my ass- I would die before I'd let that happen. And my lil bros are fucking TOUGH. It's a brother thing).

Rule 2: If we ever got in a fight at school, and we lost that fight- we would get our asses kicked twice as bad by our older brothers when we got home.

Rule 3: You never, EVER, drink a man's last beer. (This is just common sense, and the heart of civilized society.)

Rule 4: All Pussy is fair game. (this one backfired on them in the end)... Definitely my favorite rule.

Anyway, for a little-bitty fucker, this was harsh shit. I thought they were bullshittin me, but I found out wrong. I came home the first time on the shit end of the stick. I had gotten into an altercation on the bus with a kid named Noe Flores. I backed down. My lil bros were only too happy to tell Bobby and Billy how I had pussed out to a kid TWO years younger than me. (and a foot taller with a fricking moustache!). They kicked my ass so bad, they gave me a week to recuperate before they demanded that I challenge Noe to a fight.

I did what I was told. I challenged Noe to get off the bus halfway between his house and ours. We all skipped getting off at our stop. At the halfway point, Noe wouldn't get off, even though he was with about four of his cousins. My little bros, thinking that this meant there would be no fight, got off anyway, trying to save a longer walk home.

I had learned my lesson though. I got off the bus at Noe's house, alone- with him and his four cousins. And I got jumped as I was taking my levi jacket off.

And I kicked his fucking ass, while screaming every anti-hispanic epithet I could recall, in front of not only him, his cousins, but his Dad, and his mom, and about twelve other family members who were drinking beer in his front yard.

I never really thought about til just now- But I bet HE got his ass kicked really bad by his brothers after that. No one fucked with me, they respected the balls.

Any-fuckin way. This was supposed to be short. I was a teenage drunk. I was a teenage pothead. I was a teenage pimp. I was drunk, stoned, and fucking every moment of my free time from age 15 to 20. And I hung out with the same class of moron as me- poor white trash and poor mexicans from the wrong side of the tracks.

Jeremy started hanging out with some gang member mexicans, most notably "Robert". Robert carried a straight razor. I had never really seen one before til the night he put it up against my throat and kicked me out of Jeremy's party.

I was by myself, and I was WAY fucked up for that early in the evening- so I deserved some embarrassment, I will admit. But this was supposed to be my good friend, my partner-in-crime. Literally, in fact. But he stood by while this gang member fuck punked me.

Well, I chalked it up to my own stupidity and pushed it back. But there kept being run-ins with Robert. But, I never went to a party at Jeremy's by myself after that. I always had Doyel and our own little crowd with me, so there was never too much shit after that, because all we did was scrap.

But one night, at my girlfriends house, (Courtney Dunn... Man I miss that girl) Robert was there, by himself, with me and Doyel. And everyone was fucked up. And Robert started acting up. He didn't have his carnals with him this time. He did pull out his straight razor at one point and Reminded me of that previous night.

Silly Mescan. You should have shut the fuck up while you were ahead. I played it cool and we proceeded to get drunk, drunk, drunk.

About four-thirty we ran out of beer. Doyel, always the devil on my shoulder, told him that we had some beer out and the canyon- the middle of nowhere where my family lived. I caught on immediately and agreed. We got Robert into my camaro and drove way out to Horseshoe bin canyon, where my family lived in a fucking trailer house on a the only hill for miles and miles, on the lip of a canyon system that stretches from the outskirts of Slaton, Texas- for a hundred miles southeast.

When we got there, it was still dark. I shushed everyone to silence. At that point, Doyel and I had never discussed anything at all. I had assumed we would just take him out to a cotton field and I would get in his face, kick his ass in the dirt and then go on. But he just kept running his mouth. That boy just couldnt stop himself. So when we got to the house, I figured, well fuck it- We will take this motherfucker out in the canyon, and well, some of us will come back and one of us wont.

Robert asked where the beer was and, we were all stumbling ass drunk and I just said down this hill here. He seemed a little confused when I asked him to carry the shovel. I threw a .410 to Doyel and grabbed my own 20 gauge and off we went, in the now semi-light of the dawn into the canyon.

I think this is the part where Robert stopped talking shit.

Well, maybe I will elaborate on all the details later, but I'm buzzing and tired, so...

We got down to the place where I had built a dam in the river so that we could jump from a rope in the trees and I led Robert to an old fire pit and told him to start digging.

At this point, all the subterfuge was kind of gone. We put the guns on him and just nodded to the ground. Dig, you cocksucker.

The sun was coming up, and as the light trickled through the trees, the dark ebbed away and so did my drunken fervor. I kept looking at Doyel, he kept looking at me. Robert had dug about 2 feet down and had to stop to dry heave twice. He looked at us, and he didnt say a word, and that's probably a good thing. Begging is the last refuge of a man who doesnt deserve to live anyway.

I looked at Doyel one last time, and I said- fuck it. Robert- you ready to go home?

He almost gasped as he said YES. And we led him back up that hill and took the guns back to the house. We drove the 30 minutes back to Lubbock in silence and dropped him off at his car.

He stopped coming to parties after that. Go figure.

I saw him one last time after that. We may not all learn our lessons, but I'd like to think he learned his. But what the fuck do I know? He may be in the pen with Doyel now, for all I know.

I know I learned my lesson.

Owned but not taken

Sacrifice me to your indecency
Pull me down within your darkness
Consume me and be consumed in turn

Worship me at the altar of your lost pleasures
Let me become the dreams you never allow to come true
Use me, use me, use me up

Thats what I was born for
Thats what I live for
Thats what I would die for

In this life, I am owned but not taken
I am the careless possession of someone who needed me desperately enough to have to hold me,
but never enough to want to find out what i needed to hold.

I am owned but not taken

Take me-
Take me,
TAKE ME!

I will not solve your problems
I will not complete you
I will not bring you eternal paradise

I will bring you the moment. I will bring you desire. I will bring you love.
I will love you with every fiber of my being for a blissful blinking of your mindseye.
I will let you take my love, and I will take yours

And for a moment, perfection will be ours.

but just for a moment....


(inspired by GFW)

Home Sweet Home

A blogger friend who I respect quite a bit chastised me for my admittedly simplistic reasoning concerning the recent election. And, I've got to admit, my personal life has kept me from blogging much, and really, from even any deep contemplation of the situation in the past few months. My heart's just not in it, and I'm sure my dwindling readership at the House has noticed. I've been half-assing it, and I half-assed my email to him as well, which led to him handing my ass to me.

Reading his letter to me reminded me of me talking to my dumbass brother. I've got no excuse, except I've been too lazy and too apathetic to delve past the surfaces lately. All my time is spent at work, and then, working overtime from home, deep into the night, processing shit on the company site. My focus has been on the kids, the house, the bills, on my one materialistic desire, to get the new Camaro, which ain't gonna happen... but it makes an effective carrot, illusionary as it may be-

I sent my oldest son enough money to buy a Geo - something - I don't think it was a metro, but hell, he lost me at "Geo". When he and my youngest son, Evan, come to visit for Yule, I'm giving the SS to Evan and driving them back to Tempe, where I will load up the camaro I worked so hard to build for Andrew and trailer it back to Tejas to replace the motor... God, what a fucked up mess that turned out to be.. Best intentions, blood, sweat, tears- and all for what? To make a non-stop 28 hour round trip drive to take him the car to let it remain parked for two fucking years!

uh, see how easy it is for me to get sidetracked? I didn't mean to go off on a tangent about the boys and cars, but this shit takes all my mental energy.

Any-damn-way- I just don't have the juice for all the intricacies right now. I am boiling it down to the essentials- and trying not to be too much of a hypocrite along the way. I thought my reply to his putting-me-in-my-place was interesting (in the same selfish way I find all my own shit interesting) but maybe it will give you a window to where I am, mentally right now:

Jaysus= Let's see, do I have any more balloons floating around that you can pop? Dammit boy, just stomp on my G.I.joes and tell me that Beef Jerky makes you impotent...

(actually after this latest offspring- I could live with some impotence. Damn you reproductive system, Damn you to Hell!)

Anyway, as usual, you are much smarter and introspective than me. I am surrounded by Republican lunatics, a level that even reaches into the illegal immigration population here in West Texas... Today, at a business luncheon at a local bar-b-cue joint (which actually has decent blues musicians) I was surrounded by people bitching about Obama, threatening to kill Obama, hoping someone kills Obama, and talking about how they made their kids wear black to the schools yesterday to mark the "death of the nation". I ain't shy- I told them, loudly,(and a group of Oil workers at the next table)- that they were all retarded and laughed in their faces. But, it was a front. These people actually scare the shit out of me.

Hell, man- if only every American were as intelligent and as thoughtful as you...

But they aint. They celebrate the monsters and vilify anyone who may even represent a tiny change. That these vile fake christians wanted McCain is reason enough for me to support anyone else. That they use any transparent lie as an excuse to publicly cry out for the assassination of a President because he is simply half-black is reason enough for me to fight against them. I am glad you arent in the middle of these, the Pure American brood. The chosen christian children who will happily kill anyone and everything that isnt - THEM.

I like to think I make daily gains. But sometimes I don't fucking know. It's like I'm some kind of reverse missionary for decency and independent thought. I can be an Obama supporter and even a damn liberal without too much grief, but thats mainly because I'm white too (white enough I suppose), I'm mean, and I never back down without a fight to these animals. So they leave me alone, basically, although I already have become somewhat of a pariah in this tiny community, especially with my wife working at the school and us, with the gall to have not joined a local church after a year here (Egad!) But if these people ever knew I didnt believe in THEIR God, My kids wouldn't be safe and my wife wouldn't be safe. And my pride in my beliefs is secondary to all that...

I should leave for saner pastures, I KNOW this. But this is my land, in more ways than one in my head. And I'm not ready to leave, Maybe I never will because I'm too damn stubborn.
I don't know. It's a daily conflict. One that falls to the background as I simply work and take care of my family first, and put these semi-abstract ideals behind me. It ain't like I'm fucking gandhi or even someone semi-important. I'm just a wolf in sheeps clothing out here. Taking a bite out of their asses when I can...

Maybe someday soon I will have the free time like I did at the investment firm, that will allow me the luxury of thinking deeply about politics, breathing deeply in the world's events and even managing a useful exhale now and then.

Til then, these days, my greatest contemplation is looking into Tristan's eyes and wondering how much decency and independence I can pass to him. My deepest joy is Rain's heartfelt and heart-stopping "I Love you Daddy". My noblest conversations are those between me and Amy, discussing the environment, religion, music, and freedom. And my deepest question is how to daily show Lauren just how much I love and appreciate her.

New Camaro Pricing List

Official 2010 Camaro Pricing

As long as GM doesn't go out of business before then...

Camaro Models
(prices include $750 destination)

1EE37 - Camaro LS: $22,995
1EF37 - Camaro 1LT: $24,630
1EH37 - Camaro 2LT: $27,330
1ES37 - Camaro 1SS: $30,995
1ET37 - Camaro 2SS: $34,180

Camaro Options
SRJ - Convenience and Connectivity Package-
With automatic transmission: $665-
With manual transmission: $465
W1H - Inferno Orange Interior Accent Trim Package: $500

WRS - RS Appearance Package-
With Camaro 1LT: $1,750-
With Camaro 2LT: $1.450-
With Camaro 1SS or 2SS: $1,200

B34 - Carpeted Front Floormats: $60
K05 - Engine Block Heater: $75
GAQ - Red Jewel Tintcoat Premium Paint: $295
UQA - Boston Acoustics Premium 9-speaker 245-watt Sound System: $495
N65 - Compact Spare Tire and Wheel: $150

Rally Stripe Package:B7W -
Cyber Gray Metallic Stripes: $395B7X -
White Stripes: $395

CF5 - Power Sunroof with express open and venting: $900

MX0 - Automatic Transmission with TAPshift on steering wheel: $995

19" Polished Aluminum Wheels:
Q9B - With Camaro 1LT: $720
Q9C - With Camaro 2LT: $470Q9J - 20" Polished Aluminum Wheels: $470

Camaro Accessories - Dealer Installed(prices include dealer installation)
5V5 - Body-color High Wing Spoiler: $620
VRB - Car Cover - Red with Black Stripes: $360
VRU - Car Cover - Gray with Black Stripes: $360
VTD - Body-color Ground Effects Package: $2,265-
Front splitter, side rockers, and rear diffuser with integrated exhaust bezels- Also available in Dark Argent Metallic

VYV - Hurst Short-Throw Shifter: $380VYX -
Body-color Painted Engine Cover: $285- Available in 5 colors
VYP - White Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYQ - Black Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYR - Cyber Gray Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYO - Orange Rally Stripe Package: $470
VYY - Cyber Grey Stripe Package: $470
VYZ - White Stripe Package: $470
VZF - Silver Stripe Package: $470
VZG - Black Stripe Package: $470

VZN - 21" Wheel and Tire Package - Machined Aluminum with Black Accents: $4,680
VZP - 21" Wheel and Tire Package - Black Painted Finish: $4,865-
Wheel/Tire packages include matching center caps and lug nuts

Camaro Accessories - Over-The-Counter
ExteriorFuel Door: Satin Nickel finish
Replacement Grille Insert
Molded splash guards behind all 4 wheels- Available in 5 colors

Interior Trim kit-
Available in Victory Red, Inferno Orange, or Rally Yellow- Only available with factory
Interior Illumination Package
Subwoofer Audio Upgrade, trunk-mounted

Performance
Stainless Steel Catback Exhaust-
T-304 stainless steel- dual outlet- semi-polished muffler

Performance Air Intake-
High-polished Aluminum tube-
Free-breathing oil-less air filter

Stainless Steel Shorty Headers- Available for the V8 engine only

Special Thanks to CamaroZ28.com for providing 5thgen.org with this information: Camaro Z-28

NOTE:Convertible pricing is not yet available.Some accessory pricing is not yet available.

Living in it

"Alas, life, it is a hard thing... almost no one gets out of it alive."

It's like nothing I ever imagined.

But it's greater than I ever hoped for.

Push away the little tribulations, the petty pains, ignore the immediacy of the stress filled moment. Take yourself outside and look in. And when you close in on that inner strength, that love- that pure fucking joy that is in your center (against all odds)- blow it up, magnify it and let yourself be absorbed into it.

And let everyone around you know it, share it, be a part of it.

Sometimes this life is too short. Sometimes it feels like it's dragged on way much longer than it ever should have lasted. Don't just live in the moment. Pick and choose which moment you want to live in.

Be that moment forever. Smile bigger, love deeper. The alternative is... well, that really ain't much of an alternative, now, is it?

kirk

Fuckers destined to land up in Hell

I cannot believe in a paradise

Glorious, undefiled,

For gates all scrolled and streets of gold-

are tales for a dreaming child.
.

I am too lost for shame

That it moves me unto mirth,

But I can vision a hell of flame

For I have lived on Earth.

.

*two fisted Bob lives on*

Bring it, Shaitan

Charmed life, my ass- that bitch is skeered.

And for every death, a life -

When you were born, you cried,
and the world rejoiced.
Live your life
so that when you die,
the world cries and you rejoice.

(Native American birth blessing)

I'm in the hospital. The doctor says it wont be much longer now. Tristan will be born shortly. It's been a strange week, one that has seen the death of my mother and now, the dawn brings the birth of my son. I've got to go, now,

Cry, Rejoice, Repeat.

Kirk

Lauren holds Tristan, in the NICU, for the first time...

The Mom

Mom died this morning.

Bobby called me at 3am. I threw on a shirt and jeans and went to Lubbock.
It was a strange, surreal, yet not altogether bad morning.

I raised the window, pulled the shroud over her head, and whispered "Go with God"...
I said goodbye.
If there IS a heaven, she'll be there.

And if there isn't, well, she was done for this world, and happily so.
Pain, over.

I didn't cry until 12 hours later.
And that was a brief moment of lack of self-control, glorious in its emotional explosion, quickly taken held of, and suppressed.

It was the first time in 10 years that Ryan, Tommy and I were in the same room, laughing and enjoying stories about our childhood. No whys to blame. It was good.
Nobody talked about mom all that much. Everyone remained in a shocked silence, talking about everything but mom...

She was ready.
She went on her own terms.
Would that we all could be so lucky, so predestined.

Mom went out the way she said she would. Fuck. That's a helluva thing. Not many people get that.

I knew she was tough. I just didn't ever realize just how fucking badass she really was.
That white-hot bar of iron at my center is her. I always thought it was dad: mean, invulnerable, fearless.

Now I know.
Dad can't touch this.
THIS is strength. THIS is rebellion. THIS is independence.

THIS was Paula Kirk. This was Paula Berryhill. This was Paula Welch.
This was Sissy.
This was Mom.

She never compromised her principles. To her own detriment at times, yes-
I just THOUGHT that I ruled my own little world. She bent, but never, ever broke.

A lot of people thought she was weak, at first. They thought they would win out in the end.
They were Motherfucking wrong, tho, weren't they?

Jesus fucking Christ, I am so proud of my mother right now.

She never broke. Not once.
Can any of us say the same?

She is my hero. If I die with half the conviction she held, I will be able to respect myself.
I never knew, until just this moment, what fueled my heart.

I should have.
I should have known all along.
I hope she knows that I finally realize it now. I've led a strange, sometimes fucked up life. I'd like to flip you all off and yell fuck you and claim it was all me.

NOW I know.
It was her.
God bless that woman.
09/08
Kirk

The grandkids send their messages to Ma in heaven...

The Devil that is me

Aug. 1 2008

It’s 2:58 am on a Thursday night. Drinking Natural light in bottles and listening to 70s music.. Nostalgia is my life. What can I say? I used to be on top of all the newest shit. I guess that’s the first sign of getting old- when you hate everything that – is – new.

Heh.

The first step is always- ALWAYS- understanding what the fuck you’re up to .. even when you don’t really want to know…

Trying hard not to make too many typos. Drunk as fuck,,. Well NOT THAT drunk, but at that cloud nine floating araround the room kinda vibe

As inebriated as I let myself get anymore

THAT’S getting old- Ah,well, its also Wisdom in action. Don’t have to work tomorrow. But I ‘ll probably go in and get some overtime anyway.Working at Oxy Petroleum rightn now. Yes, I am serving that most devilish of deamons, BIG OIL>

Gotta feed the familiy. I am being courted by the Ethanol plant as we speak. Trying to get on as HR Director. More money, more freedom.

Anyway, been quiet lately. Or at least my soul has stopped howling at the moon for the nonce. My woman – is – MY WOMAN. She’s the epitome of a good woman. Never had better. And for once, I am worrying less about my whims and more about peace. The old chaos still bangs around in my heart, but I can control it now. I have been such an adrenaline/attentinon junkie all my life. Had to have a new woman every 15 mnutes. I stopped feeding my ego. Let that bitch starv… FINALLY.

I always put my kids before myself. But until Lauren I never put the woman in my life remotely close to anything close to a priority. She earned it. She has proven herself a hundred times over, despite the obstacles I put in her way.

She’s a fucking saint, she is. And every damn day I wonder how I will make it through to the next day without fucking it all up. Somedays that old chaos rises up fiercely and tries hard to do everything it/I can to run her off.

Sometimes I tell myself that she will never know the real me- the cutthroat, mean. Scarred halflife that I was/am. But sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I see her looking at me, and I realize she KNOWS. And she loves me so much, that she will do all she can- not to break me, but to break through to me. And that is the most beautiful thing about her. I can’t tell her that. My pride won’t allow it. Maybe she’ll find this someday and know that I knew How much she sacrificed to be the love of all loves that tried to fix this broken heart…

I’ve had more than my share of devils in my bed. I don’t know how to treat the Angel that has come down from Heaven to rescue me. But… I’m trying as hard as I can to defeat the devil that is me.

He’s a hard-headed prick, that’s for certain.

the person staring back

She’ll tell you she’s an orphan…
.. after you meet her family

Mom’s still dying
I’m still drinking.

I’ve put myself on hold-
Like no other time in my life

Doing what I'm supposed to.
Working, earning a livin, for the family and me.
Good Husband, Good Dad, Walking that line, boy, the way I was told….

Dreams, nowadays, are just that…
stuff that occurs in the middle of a deep sleep. Wake up, shake ‘em off and move on.

No time for that shit. I’ve wasted more than enough of my life on that crap, right?

….

I don’t know. This life, without those beautiful fantasies, sure wouldn’t mean as much, would it?

And hell, didn’t some of those dreams come true? I ain’t dead and I ain’t in jail. That’s more than some people dreamed for my future.

Fuck, I don’t know. I can still look at myself in the mirror. And I’ve always been the harshest judge I’ve ever met.

Life ain’t as exciting as it was, a few years back. But I’ve come a long way (baby). No more bar fights. No more living a deathwish for shits and giggles. No more changing the woman I’m with every six weeks, whether I want to or not.

Stability-

-Is not something I’m real familiar with, nor something I ever wanted to be on a first name basis with in the first place. I’ve always worshipped the chaos. I always lived by the seat of my pants and loved it that way.

I’ve ALWAYS had a plan. And I’ve ALWAYS had a way to fuck it up on purpose, everytime I got bored or decided that my plan was bullshit.

Too late I realize that all those plans weren’t bad. Any one of them would’ve worked out. I can’t say (can anyone>?) if they would have netted me a greater sum of existence than my current incarnation…

I’ve had fun. Hope you have, too. Its been a helluva ride on this end. AND AT the end of THIS tunnel- I've ended up with a thousand halfassed misgivings, a couple million second-guesses, and well, NOT one real regret at the end of the day.

If you think I’m full of shit, well, you’d be wrong/ I’m a dick that way, I’m not conceited, I iz convinced. I have failed at more things than most people ever attempt. But I do believe I’ve accomplished the important things-

I am the Dad I never had.

That was goal one, a promise I made to myself in the closet of my bedroom as a 10 year old boy. I never wavered. As big of an asshole I have made of myself, I’ve never been anything but a really damn good Daddy. And if that was the end of the list, I’d be happy;

And, dwelling upon that, I realize- that is Good enough. I could try and impress you with other, myriad details of the things I’ve strived for in this life…

But I realize- there’s only really two things I’ve ever given a good-god-damn about. One was being a good dad. And the other- well, its not important anymore.; Suffice it to say I met my goals.

I may not be much, but I am a man of my word. I am a simple fucker with complex shades. I am my mother’s son. I am dark, I am light. But I am never just black and white.
I am a man who can look in the mirror, study my failures AND my victories, and smile at both.

There’s no heaven. There’s no hell. There’s just you and that mirror at the end of the day. You can flinch from it, or you can be the person you always wanted to be.

The only person stopping you is yourself.

Christopher Kirk Berryhill
9/08 Bumfuck, Texas

Prayer

Daughter, crying herself to sleep, again
empty voicemail messages to her missing mother

Andrea's singing plays in the background as they struggle into dreams,
Dreams that I hope will turn out good.

Rage turns to disgust and then to emptiness.
I stroke her hair softly and Lauren holds her hand as her body shudders in tears. Nothing can replace a parent who disappears without explaining why to their children.

I can see the scars on my daughters heart, forming and reforming. I try to stop them, but I can't.Someone else might not understand.

I do.

Got my own scarred heart to prove it.

I'd do anything to prevent it happening to my daughters. My wife would too.

Their mom is.... broken.
And everytime she gets close to repairing herself, she throws herself back off a new cliff to shatter herself anew.

Everyone's got a hobby. Hers is seeing just how close to self-destruction she can get without ever going over the edge completely. Of course, meanwhile, this involves lots of drugs, angst, and self-absorbtion.

I'd kill the bitch myself if I thought it would help.

It wouldn't.

But it would sure be nice to visit some form of retribution on the person who causes my children- HER CHILDREN- a constant stream of pain.

Times like this bring a man to prayer-

I have lots of prayers. Some humble, some hopeful.

Never vain, never selfish. I've got NO belief in a god that aids the shallow.

And I've not much more faith in any prayer of hope.

I've got a prayer of wrath, though. Only a fool would desire it.

But when you hurt someone's children, the deep, torturous way that she has, it does something awful to a person's soul.

So, my one prayer, the one I don't believe in but desperately desire -
is this-

I pray for hell.

I pray for a hell to exist-

a Hell that WILL give some Old testament justice to the parents who abandon their children.

If hell exists, believe me, I'll burn as well, I'm sure - for a thousand simple travesties and a million outright sins. I'd take my eternal damnation in a minute, though- just to know Andrea would be there too- burning for what she did to our kids.

I have lots of prayers. Some humble, some hopeful.

But seeing those tears in Amy's eyes when she cries for her mother- there's only one prayer in my bible.

All she has to do is make one call to a little girl. But, as with most of the world's miserable bastards, even the simplest gesture is too much

Fucking Death

Fuck it all.
Who cares? I know for a fact that you don’t. so why dost thou plague mine conscience? So why do you bother?

Not for me. Not for the mother isle, not for anything

I tire of being the chameleon, of being afraid to hold an identity. I must be terribly insecure to never hold one personality for longer than the people I am around. Why must I mold myself constantly to what I believe is pleasing to those around me. Very seldom is the time that I have been able to let myself go - truly, and tell those around me to simply FUCK OFF. Tell Doyel to go to hell, or just be myself without worrying if "they " will still enjoy my company. Part of the problem I suppose is the fact that I know myself no better than anyone else

....

Fucking Death

Ere late, Death bent and grasped her fine turned ankles as ashen tears dropped silently to the ground forever scarring it. I had Death in my grip and no wails did issue forth from those lips as black as pitch, full and beautiful with no hint of their earlier scorn. Long lustrous ebon strands of her hair in my right hand, I thrust forward again and again. Each time I twisted back sadistically as the fingers of my left hand curled round one of her large maggot - white breasts, nipples perfectly formed yet the color of dead roses. I loved the feel of that cold, frigid skin against my burning flesh; my flaming member penetrating into the softness of her chill womb. Heat grew within her, my life yielding unto hers, she grew wet, and her wetness was as blood. I plunged harder, farther, faster - Hope rose in me and desire erupted within her. I knew that the strength of my life was cracking the iron shell of her apathy. My own red lips feasted on her perfect back and I felt her shiver at their warmth. Both of her large, dangling breasts in my palms, nipples squeezed tightly between my fingers I ground my hips against hers and she pressed back wildly against mine. A faint murmur hummed from deep within her throat and ...

1993

Just seventeen million times

The most disturbing, truthful 80's comedy ever made. This movie is the story of my life, - but not just the one role... sometimes I play the poor, dumb lovelorn loser, sometimes I'm the pussydrenched prick, and sometimes I'm the whore chasing after what is absolutely worst for me.

But mostly I'm just the loser.

This memory is for Suzanna and Misha. I hope you both are sucking dicks in hell right now.

Winding Sur-Reality

Last night had an ethereal quality about it. I don't know if I was just exhausted from a week with the kids, work, etc and it affected my perception or what...

I got off work, headed home- talked to Jon, who was sick. Bubba and Tarya were supposed to go to "The Bullet" tonight for drinks and pool. I figured I would wing it and see. I picked up Lauren and she went shopping for part of Amy's birthday present with me. We went to Toys R US and I got her some bubble toys and a pair of Barbie Roller-skate shoes that she has been wanting since we got Taylor some for Christmas. I will get the rest tomorrow.

We decided we didn't feel like Beers at the bullet= and she needed a break from Tarya the way I needed one from Bubba probably. We ended up going to Uncle Chien's for some chinese and then went to see what Jon was doing. He was sick as a dog and in bed by this point, although this did not stop him from drinking his three last beers.. So I threw in Kingdom of Heaven and kicked back. I fell asleep during the movie. Usually Thursdays are my 'blow off steam' days since I don't have the kids= but I really was exhausted. I woke up a little before the movie ended and kind of drifted in and out of consciousness. Lauren was doing the same. I guess her finals this week have kept her sleepless. The movie ended and I took her home.

I stopped in at a T&C for a snack and as I was paying out, the checkout guy just said to me, out of the blue- (I was the only customer there) "I don't know what to do- I feel like I am going to lose control, man". He had a haunted look, but I really wasn't paying attention, and I just gave a rote reply- "I know Exactly what you mean, brother" He said that no, I didn't and he proceeded to talk in a rambling manner about his wife, and infidelities of the past, and possible infidelities of the present. Told to anyone else, he probably would have seemed like a raving lunatic- But I recognized that look, that emotion, that desperation in his voice, his cry for help. A twinge of pain crossed my heart, but a sense of peace washed over it, almost immediately, surprising even myself for a second.

I listened to him for about five minutes, not interrupting, eating my snack there at the counter. His phone started ringing- He said it was her, but he couldn't answer it, his eyes were full of his fear of the truth. That truth that dances wildly in the corner of your eye, gradually moves into clear focus. It was the same old story, made more painful by the fact that he had 3 kids. He KNEW she was cheating- and she was basically throwing it in his face, but he didn't want to know. He couldn't wrap his mind around a concept his heart COULD NOT accept.

He rambled about his kids, his love, his desire to keep his family together. I stopped him there- "You're talking to a man who has Custody of his kids because of the same situation."

His eyes went a little wide. I continued, "When you can't take it anymore, you'll leave. When your heart can't blind your eyes any longer, you'll know it's time to go. You'll survive. Do right by your kids and you can't go wrong. You CAN See the truth. It's there for you to see. When you can ACCEPT it- you will know what to do. Don't let it keep you in Hell a second longer than it has to." He just kind of stared, openmouthed for a minute, then his eyes unclouded. I knew Exactly what this man was going through.

That weird sense of peace was like a tangible spirit, surrounding me as I went on : "I KNOW. You know it too, deep inside."

I gave him a wry smile that I hoped conveyed that hard-fought tranquility I now possessed. I almost wanted to shake his hand, or give the poor bastard a hug. But I just said "It's a hard road- Good Luck, man" And I walked out into the night, hoping I may have kicked him into the gear in a man's head that will finally shift you out of neutral.

I smiled to myself- so I guess, this is peace of mind? It was a long road back from Hell. Looks like I made it.
5/5/06

Alone Beside Her

Alone Beside Her

Sometimes, even next to her, I feel all alone
Her eyes are full of secrets, and her heart is like a stone
I reach out and touch her, to make my presence known
Yet- Ignorant, Ignoble, and Ignored, I am hers to disown.

A glance, a touch, a smile, a kiss I crave-
And everything she doesn't do hits me like a crashing wave.
The apathy that shrouds her chills me as I near her-
And my love for her is so much, that I often fear her...
Will I ever earn from her the empathy to forgive?
I feel that without her hope, I have lost the will to live.

So each day I bear my burdens, shoulder her guilt like a pack-
and hope that each new careless act she performs- won't be the
one that breaks this camel's back...

Without a Life that holds a Love- True-
Then all things become false- So I do what I do.
Maybe one day, she will open her eyes,
And no longer will I be a creature to despise

9/26/01

Creating your own deity

Before I slip... into .. un-consciousness,
I'd like to tell ya ... how I feel,
about ... this .. world,
heh

Shawn and Nikki are in the garage listening to Fade to Black by Metallica. I can hear the sounds emanating through the window into the den, over my chosen music, Glenn Danzig's instrumental; Black Aria. Andrea is cooking dinner in the kitchen. IT is 8:40 pm on a monday evening. I am just beginning to become sober again. :) We had just finished making love, we started in the living room, moved to the bathroom and ended up in the bedroom. I was pretty intoxicated, but not so much that I lost control or equilibrium. It was awesome, as usual. Andrea, is , nothing else, my equal in passion AND perversity. AH, life is good.

Life..

yes, that is what I was thinking about.

I am so very happy this day, none of my typical self hate bullshit overiding my pleasure this instant.

And now that I think about it, I really am ALWAYS fucking happy. Even if I dont realize it, Hell, I HAVE everything I need... I GET anything I want... No desires refused to me. No one stands in my way.

In a lot of ways, I am GOD of my world. I make myself a god. I dont accept anything Less. Why should anyone?

Every one lives in their own world. I just happen to RULE mine. I couldnt live any other way. People bend to those that are strong enough to make them kneel. I kneel to no one. I never will. I would die first. Pride may fuck up a lot of things for me, but it pays for itself a thousand times over. All I HAVE IS ALL I AM IS ALL I EVER WILL BE. or to put it a better way:
ALL THAT I AM IS ALL THAT I EVER WILL BE , and THAT is ALL THAT I WILL EVER HAVE.

TRUST? Someone besides myself? I trust no one. I give freedoms to some of my friends who I believe will respect those gifts, I give my heart to Andrea, and trust that She will not Fuck me.

LOVE? Love thyelf, and others will be attracted to that security. To Love another- that is the only faith I will ever have.

HOPE? I hope... that I am not a fool.... that God doesnt hate me for not believing in "Him"... that I am right about all this bullshit.

By the way, You like all this BULLSHIT? It keeps me occupied while I am not fucking some girl or drinking some alcohol or working. I mean, I dont know what the fuck I'm talking about, sometimes I think I KNOW, but I really dont, I admit it, though, and doesnt that count for SOMETHING>? Yeah, probably not. Well, no one will ever read this, no matter how much I fantasize that I am some genius and that everyone in the world can learn from my precious insights. So who gives a rotten fuck, right>>? Maybe Evan or Andrew will read this some day, and maybe understand a little better who their dad was, or maybe they will be better off not knowing. I have no clue. I had no father. No fount of wisdom. I had a guy who left and a guy who was in love with having a son but didnt love himself enough to love me.

I enjoy life. Even if I hate it. I enjoy what I can. I fear these deeper introspections because they reveal how shallow life really is.

It hurts me to understand. I do understand. Everytime I comprehend some new layer, or learn something new, it hurts me more.

IGNORANCE IS BLISS. Bliss ...

So Excuse me, if I drown myself in my newest obsession, let myself be swallowed in an orgy of orgasm and lust and drunken revelry. The alternative is a life of sober realization. I see the world as it TRULY is. And it is , for lack of a better phrase, WRONG. And there is nothing that I will ever accomplish that will change human nature. I can be the "God" of my own little world. But I can't be everyone's god.

More's the pity, eh?

Impotent Deity of my own creation,
Slave to all my obsessive sensation,
Reality,,, that cruel, cruel lie
All that I want is just to become a sigh.

1998

Empty glass...

I'm trying goddamit...! ?

Never had to before. Drinking. Watched a huge dust storm turn the sky dirt red an hour ago. Looking out my bedroom window, its a bright shiny world. The storm may have never existed for all I can see at this moment.

That's west Texas for you. Brief, wicked chaos strips you down to your shell, then you look up and its bright blue sky, a beautiful sun setting, and the ever-present wind is just gone like it never existed.

When you are so used to something, its sudden absence, after such a violent explosion is a presence unto itself, makin you almost miss it.

Its perfect right now. Gorgeous and bright like heaven should be. The afterglow of a discordant orgasm that brought more pain that it did pleasure.

As I pour beers into me, I try to pour out what I feel... all I have is this will o' the wisp, tho. Feeling and emotion, like the storm itself, is something that just isn't here anymore. I remember it all, so shortly ago, but all I have now is that half-dreamy image of it in memory. It could have been an hour ago that I experienced it, or ten years gone. Its just not here now. I wish I could have taken a picture or videotaped it, or locked it all in a glass so I could experience it again. But its gone now, and will only re-emerge when nature wills it to.

It's a bright shiny day, and an empty slate. And I almost= ALMOST welcome that. But I'm wise enough now to miss it. It's the storm that makes me alive.

Finds

This Place is cool

Bat the fuck out

It's a boy.

Anyway, going to Amarillo for the weekend to visit my best friend. Damn, you know you're getting old when the phrase "best friend" looks odd to you. Fuck, the older you get, the less friends you seem to have, but maybe that's just my outstanding personality for you...

The older you get the more you weed out that broad base of "friends" until its just actually the few people you can stand for more than an hour at a time. Anyway, the last time I even left the Lubbock area was last summer. That's way too long. I used to make the drive to see my fav-o-rite Republican once a month. Children and a wife will zap that notion. The wife wasn't too thrilled when I told her I was going away for the weekend, and much less than thrilled when I told her she wasn't coming. As much as she feels the need to babysit me during all non-working hours, I think I will manage to make it to Greg's and back without tripping and falling naked onto a stripper in a hotel. Or at least I am trying to convince her (and myself) that much is true.

I doubt it will be a constant party. Especially since Greg is finally engaged to his live-in gf. He kept her waiting long enough. She's been living with him for the past ten years (no shit!) before she finally broke his will to live. I've got to give her a ten for tenacity. And an eleven for being a sucker for punishment, but love is a blind, retarded drooling god.

I just wonder if "the change" has set in yet. You men know what I'm talking about. Probably you women too, but I'll be damned if I can ever get one of you to admit that. The personality change that occurs in every woman's attitude the moment she realizes the relationship has shifted from "dating" to "I've got the fucker now". He'll probably have to ask to walk outside in the backyard and drink a beer with me. Ah, I'm immune to my friend's wives' bullshit, though. I'll admit I can be a bad influence, but not to the level that my reputation ascended to at one point. I always make it a point to help the wife/gf win at least one argument during every visit. Yes, I'm a bastard, they all say, but I'm a polite bastard who knows when to pay fealty at the altar of their Matronly majesty. "Quit being a dick, man. You need to treat her better!" Sometimes it's just that simple. Even though I generally get hit on the way out of the house to the bar - "Goddamn you, Kirk. I'll be hearing about that for weeks!"

And now, I've always got the "Lauren" card. "Yes, I'm married now, I'm a changed man" during which the women's conversation quickly turns to Lauren's sainthood. Jeez, I'm not that bad, really, I'm not.

Anyway. Getting the hell out of town for the weekend. Since work is slow during these last days, I compiled a book for Greg of what I call the "Rosa Alchemica tales" of Yeats. I put together Rosa Alchemica, The Book of the Law, The Adoration of the Magi, and the last weird winding "letter to Maurice" that Yeats wrote late in life, cementing my vote for his genius. We will probably just get way too drunk, play poker and discuss philosophy all damn night, which this gift is subtly designed to instigate. I'll kill someone for some intelligent fucking conversation at this point!

I put it together all in one nice font, pooled from various online sources, and illustrated with some of my own art and various other black and white pieces here and there. It looks great. Man, I wish I could do something with my ability to put this stuff together so fast. I downloaded, edited, added the illustrations, corrected all the fonts and settings of the four stories (all from different sources) for continuity, printed it, bound it, and had it ready to go in all under about 3 hours. While working. I've seen other people in this office take more time to type up a client letter. Surely someone would pay for zees skill, non?

Non.

Well, fuck me running. It's 6am. Been up since 4:30, even though I pulled a pretty good drunk last night, even got me an arrogant bastard ale. I don't have to be at work til 8, but I'm already showered and shaved, so I think I'll go grab an actual breakfast and show up early. What the hell, I can blog there just as easy as I can here. Might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Which is 2 more weeks. Time ith running out.

Escape!

He rose slowly out of the burning bath water, savoring the heat that reddened his skin and sent wisps of steam rising around him. He was intoxicated by the feel of his hot flesh and the sense of finality that surrounded this moment. He was acutely aware of the purpose that sat upon his brow like a halo of hope; the purpose that had been missing these past four or five years. He didn't bother to drain the water from the tub as he stepped out, loving the cool tiles beneath his feet and tasting each drop of water that dripped from his elbows and hair.

The air was shimmering and for a brief moment he thought might pass out from the pleasure of simple awareness. He toweled off lightly and combed through his hair before returning downstairs to where she lay. Concealing the smile that threatened to betray his knowledge of her duplicity, he crawled beneath the covers and shut his eyes.

She trembled next to him, half fear-half ecstasy, and she was too preoccupied to realize that she wasn't angry at him anymore. Her right hand clutched the kitchen knife under the pillow and last minute pleas of future regrets fought a wild battle in her mind. The smile rose unbidden to his face, uncontrolled. He could sense her apprehension, could smell her sweat. Seeing his grin, that fucking shit eating grin of his cross his face- the anger welled up again and her vision went bloody as the knife jerked up and into his chest. She laughed hysterically as she stabbed again and again. His eyes winked open and gazed into hers. She dropped the knife, falling backwards, terrified.

"Escape!"

The word bubbled out of his mouth on the crest of a wave of blood, and his smile grew even bigger, as he died. She alternately laughed and cried, huddled in the corner of the room, underneath their wedding portrait. No one in the family had thought it would last. They were right, but no one could have predicted this outcome. Her feral eyes glazed slowly over, covered by a transparent veil of insanity. Soon they mirrored his, staring but unseeing, dead but still alive inside, somewhere.

He knew he had won, but not yet what his victory held for him. His
sense of purpose faded from its orgasmic/euphoric glory into numbness as he was hurtled from this world to the next. Multicolored flames sprang into existence and chilled his blood as they fanned over him. He noticed with some shock that he no longer held a form of flesh and bone. Transparent, translucent, ameobic was what he had become. A different awareness washed over him, alien yet wise. Images that he had once known as past, present, or future strobed before his -`vision?' (he no longer had eyes) - and he knew time and existence as it was- completely simultaneous, no paths to go back or forward upon, just the point that was/is/will be -constantly occurring.
(1993)

Time Capsules

I used to - (g'damn west texas! I guess I should try harder)

I ONCE wrote broad diary entries while in high school and college. I called them "Time Capsules" and crammed in my thoughts and activities into them, for later edification. Some of them are pretty boring- this one is no exception but my mindset at the time seems pretty appropriate for today, as I job hunt sans a college degree because of my youthful distaste for the hoops of careerism.

Nothing ever seems to change for me. I wrote this 16 years ago and it might have been just yesterday. Is that pathetic or as it should be? I can't seem to make up my mind which...

TIME CAPSULE- April 23,1992

I have had, as always several unique experiences since the last time I wrote one of these journal entries. This entry in itself is unique since I am typing it using PC write, a word processing package, that is saved onto the hard drive of my Tandy 4016 DX (386). I shall begin with the sad statement that it has been almost (well, EXACTLY) sixteen days since I have been intimate with a female. O' the suffering. Anyway, I broke everything off with Angel on a sort of a lark. I just could not stand her immature posturing any longer. Plus, I kind of knew that it just wouldn't last anyhow. She took it quite well, I believe. At first she didn't believe me and then she just went off, after another boytoy. Oh well.

I haven't been partyin with Shawn lately. Erin and his new job seem to keep him occupied. He cannot do anything without telling her, and she is constantly around him. She doesn't like him to go anywhere, but when I ask him to do something on the weekend in front of her she makes a big production of how she doesn't mind and that she doesn't care, how she is not trying to stifle his life with his friends. And later I catch her bitching at him to 'go ahead and get arrested and drunk go right ahead. Just don't call me tomorrow.' And half the time we don't do anything totally uncalled for. We just sit around, play guitar, drink a couple and go visit friends and such, Hanging out at Kevin's watching him and Sunny play duets, going to Dusty's and getting a little wild on occasion, Nothing seriously outrageous. I save all the really wild ideas for special occasions. I think it comes down to a lack of trust on both their parts. Erin thinks Shawn is so hot that girls are just dying for him all over town, and Shawn thinks that I, of all people, am still messing with Erin. I wish I had never let him meet the bitch, cause that is what she is turning out to be. For godsake's we're only 19!!!! She's only 17! Neither of them know what the fuck, both are too insecure for a real relationship. They need to chill out and have fun. Shawn just wants to stay home and stay high all the time and Erin just wants to be around Shawn to keep him from going out when she's not around. They are really burning out fast on each other and that is only going to end up one way - in them breaking up. But you can't give advice to a girl who thinks she is the most mature teenager in existence and you can't help a friend who lies all the time about everything. So, forgive me, I give up for the time being. Let shit happen on itself and stop interfering.

Back to my life- Nothing happening. I haven't been to class in about 3 weeks. Mentally, I'm burnt out on Cobol and the like. I find myself further and further adrift on a sea of apathy. I no longer care about a Bachelor's degree in Computer science. At DeVry, I have found, not a delight in knowledge and learning new programming, but a doctorate in greed. Everyone is after the almighty dollar and The business computer programs are full of the same tedious language as the corporations and their money grubbing masters. I guess it makes a lot of sense that they would be now, on a look back. Excuse me if I thought the computer languages themselves would avoid the overwritten overcliched passages, not unlike some uncertain politician trying to bullshit his way over something he has no knowledge whatsoever of. It is all trite and above that it is so stiflingly boring that it is driving me completely insane! I should have looked further into the program before enrolling. Alas, I was eighteen and had nothing particularly better to do, so in trademark spontaneous Kirk fashion, I was down here like a shot.

And there is nothing that can replace the experience of being on my own and all that I have seen, felt, and learned in the 'big city'. Suzanna, Poon, Greg,Cracky, Richard, Doug, Imre, Mike Latanovich, Mike Brumley, Mark, Kevin,James, Arkansas Dave, Ed, Gary, all the friends I have met and known and learned something from. It's all been an experience that helped me grow up and helped me understand the world and myself better and I wouldn't change any of that. But, the school is not what I was expecting, the programming isn't the kind that I wanted. I wanted graphics and software creation and such – not programs that run payroll accounts and the like. It is all good, and steady, money making work. But my life is not run on how many $ I make. I never have worried about being rich. I worry about whether or not I will ever make true sense of my existence and how I could contribute any of my stories, poems, or pictures to the art the world already knows. I worry about whether or not some young child will ever read something that I wrote and gain an understanding about something that they did not fully comprehend beforehand. I worry about being happy with myself and having others see me as I want to be: a kind helpful person who would do anything to help someone and expect a little kindness in return... I worry about doing something in my life that really matters, giving to the world instead of just taking and getting every little bit out of everyone around me. I worry about love and I worry about finding it. I can only follow my heart, and no matter how much trouble it eventually gets me into, that is the only path for me.

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the
unreasonable man adapts the world to himself. Therefore,
all progress depends on the unreasonable man."
George Bernard Shaw

"Man seeks knowledge, like the lemming seeks the ocean,
instinct provoking self destruction."
-who else? Kirk



Me and Shawn back in the day. I wonder where the hell he is now?

Notations on Semi Insanity

Letter to Myself: Notations on semi-insanity

Q: If you stop to wonder if you are insane, does that imply that you are not too far gone?

Q2: Or does it indicate that you are so far over the edge of madness that you have to ask?

A: Who's really sane, anyhow?
And for that matter who is the epitome of saneness that he (or she, heaven forbid) can be self righteous enough to deem others lacking in that intangible quality? I, as a doubter of the sanity of the Universe/Multiverse in general say that I am a prime candidate for that position... but then again, I never was much into the politics of status. O' lovely nonsense thy name is Man.

Why delude yourself with the truth when you can simply deny reality,
ignore injustice and pain, and pretend that you're having a good time?
Don't try to define the reasons for existence- Do as most men (and
women) - Be as hollow as everyone else. Beleaguering yourself with existential ponderances will only make you see the world as it really is –
...And that will only make you want to leave..!

If life were as simple as some perceive it to be, then the ignorant
would reign and those who lived by thought would be seen as the ultimate fools

Hmm... maybe it is that simple after all.

bs, personal

Jobhunt is in full effect. The Evil office manager who bitched about not having enough notice (6 weeks wasn't enough?!) got a job in two weeks and left Jim high and dry to go to work for a guy Jim hates, who is probably just using Nancy to get ins on all Jim's clients.

So, under the guise of being fucked over by the man who has employed her for the past twenty seven years, she fucks him over instead. I always hated her anyway. Evil fucking bitch. As I told him from the get-go, I'm here til the doors close. Loyal as a simple dog, I suppose, but he's been a great boss, I've no regrets for my past three years here. So, I've got 20 days til I'm officially unemployed. No hurry. Maybe I should look into the whole publishing thang (as something more than a jokeline tossed off to the wife : "Well, all this free time will give me time to work on my novel" - accompanied by my famous shit-eating grin and followed by a scowl from her. She didn't like when I suggested that I go back to college and study to be an archaeologist, either, damn the luck.

Indiana Berryhill and the Lost Crusade. Sounds cool, but fuck college. I am too old for that shit and I don't need that many pretty girls around me with such a low threshold of self control. So far I've got four jobs- one- Ed Jones rep- as a fricking salesman, yes- this IS The field of investment advising, but I am loathe to move into 100% commissions and a life of hawking this stuff. One is a part-time IT tech support guy, which I guess is okay for the time being. And two are completely unrelated to my current position. One is in the "oil patch" and the pay is great, the other is outside work, which I love, but the pay sucketh. I guess I could always go back to work for the Great Satan (the family corporation)... And as much as my non-greed motivated heart pines for the new Camaros coming out in 2009, I think I'd rather explore the job opportunities in the afterlife before I go back to Daddy, piles of dirty money and all.

Tried some of that Salvia Infinity (the blue) last night while on a bender. Glad I didnt pay for that crap. There's 10 minutes of my life I'll never get back. Fucked me up, but then again it could have been the Tuaca, peppermint pattys and Landshark lagers...

First time in about two months I actually went out. I crashed at my friends' house. Woke up and thought, yes- this is why I don't do this stupid shit anymore. Made it to work early still, armed with a random energy drink and pack of Klemke beef jerky. Doing my job, plus the evil bitch's... Got a call into her to explain how to update accounts in Centerpiece. She wouldn't train me on it while she was fear because she was afraid I'd take her job, and she splits without anyone knowing how to use it. Oh well. Not really my problem, but I am trying to get the business closed down in one piece.

I'll have some more original writing up later this week. Nothing so personal this time, but I like it.

A plague on both your houses

The first person who I ever met that was HIV Positive was actually the first person registered in Lubbock as such, or so she said. I don't remember her name. Don't think too bad of me, I only met her once and never saw her again.

I was seventeen and had wound up in a flophouse that had been abandoned by its owner to vagrants in the middle of the "Tech Ghetto". This was the sprawling slum that bordered the Texas Tech campus in the old part of Lubbock, back then. The whole neighborhood has since been torn down, and rebuilt, in the name of "low-income" apartment housing - financed by the city of Lubbock and profitting one of West Texas' richest men (whose son was the Mayor at the time). Judging from the number of superbikes and boats in the parking lots of the new apts, I'd say it's just full of rich frat boys and sorority girls.

I can't say I miss the neighborhood, regardless. I've been mugged, shot at, fought in gang fights, and even may have committed a few bad deeds myself there back in the wilder days. It was a true shithole, populated by poor college students, poorer minorities and white trash like myself. There were four of us running around late on a weeknight; two of my 'road dogs', T-bone and Axl, my little brother Tommy, and me. Back then almost everyone in our gang had little metal-head nicknames, from our favorite bands. This was what passed for street names in our "gang". I never got one because my name was Kirk- and Kirk Hammett was the lead guitarist for Metallica, and hell- that was good enough.

Our gang was simply the only nine white boys in the 'hood. We banded together because it was too much shit to be in a mexican gang when you couldn't speak enough spanish. Even IN a gang like that, you get your ass kicked by your carnals on a weekly basis if you have the misfortune of being a wedo.

We survived for three reasons: one of our guys, Red, could tat like a maniac and was the only person, white or mexican, who could go to parties with VES, VSS, or VOR (east-siders, south siders, and north siders. The V's for Varrio (barrio) I don't know why they used the V. Never put much thought into it til now.) He gave badass tattoos to anybody who wanted one and so we were cool with the mexicans. The second reason was because of Axl's mom. She ran a run down apt complex where we all stayed- I'll call it the "P". She lorded over everyone who needed a place to crash for a week or a month, needed a fix, or needed whatever-it-was-you-might-be-needing. She had four boys, Axl was the youngest. All three of his older brothers were in the pen when I met him the first time. She was a tough fucking bitch.

The third, and most important reason we survived is because we were all batshit-crazy. And everyone in the hood knew it. Fuck, you had to be.

My little brother didn't hang out with us much. He was a jock, and a good one, and he detested all drugs (good boy). But at the time my mom and his dad were living 40 miles outside of Lubbock in a trailer that was set up on the only hill for a 5 mile radius. We called it the Tornado Suicide Shack. It was winter, so Tommy had no farmwork he could do and was working at a Burger King in the Tech Ghetto. He drove a beat up 65 Chevy truck with a Z-28 motor in it. Even though our primary means of fuel-allocation was a siphon hose- it was a losing proposition to make the drive home when he got off work each night. So, like everyone else, he crashed at the "P".

I got off work at the manufacturing plant at eleven pm. I went straight to my older brother's house, picked up a case of Michelob Dry (haven't drank the stuff since high school) and headed to the P. We started drinking and T-bone told us about some people partying down the way. That's how we ended up in an abandoned rental house with about fifteen strangers. I remember thinking that this was the craziest thing since the kids crashing there (a half dozen people from age 14 to 25) had no electricity and no water. There was a makeshift campfire on the non-carpeted floor in a melted metal barrel and old mattresses and blankets spread around. Luckily winter in West Texas isn't a severe problem. Some years we don't even have snow. I don't remember much more than the rusty barrel and the shock of seeing kids living like complete vagabonds right there, in the middle of town.

I remember her, though.

My brother, straight-laced though he was, is a good looking guy and always one to impress the ladies. Tommy didn't like being poor. He didn't look like the rest of us, with our metal militia uniforms (dirty black concert tees, torn blue jeans, high tops). He dressed like a prep and hung out with the popular kids. He'd never admit to our family being poor. But he tried to fit in with the druggie punks that were his brother's friends when he hung out with me. He did that with jokes. He knew how dangerous it could be to get singled out, so jokes were his camoflauge. As the rest of us smoked a joint, drank our beer and introduced ourselves to the familiar and not-so familiar faces, he told jokes. One of his jokes stopped all the conversation though.

He was talking to the prettiest girl there, a stained street angel, probably seventeen years old with dirty blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail, a cute smile and deep green eyes. Axl stood close by her arm, giving her his best seductive smile.

"Did you hear David Copperfield has AIDS?" Everyone got quiet and Tommy paused with a silly grin and hit the punchline "He was playing with Magic!" Tbone, Axl, and I chuckled, even though we had heard him tell that lame ass joke ten times today already. But everyone else was quiet, even wide-eyed. "What?!" Tommy said, a little too loud in the silence. "Someone here related to Magic Johnson?" All these stoned people just kind of looked embarrassed and a little anxious.

"No," the stained angel said, "I'm HIV Positive." She said it a little apologetically, but not ashamed. Tommy took a step back and stammered an apology. The walls for him, I could tell, had shrunk in on him a little bit, like I've seen a thousand times, when he wonders just what the fuck his brother gotten him into this time. I stepped up, apologized for my dumbass brother and introduced myself. She was beautiful. Conversations resumed and pockets of people moved this way and that, in the shadows. Axl gave up any attention he had entertained for her as of this stunning revelation and moved towards one of the other girls there.

We talked for a good while. I was intrigued and I learned that she was from California, had only been in Lubbock for a little while and had no where else to go. She claimed to be the only person who was registered as being HIV Positive in Lubbock. I believed her. AIDS and HIV was something new, something you only saw gay guys in New York dying of on tv. You didn't find it in a pretty girl at a party in West Texas. So it was frightening and eye-opening.

I shared a beer or two with her and Axl hooked up with another girl in the meantime. Tommy had since escaped out to my car, away from the freaks. We ended up loading up the Angel, Axl's girl and ourselves and taking off. I dropped Tommy off at the P so he could crash. We decided to go by another guy's place since his mom was never home and it was much cleaner than the rat trap we stayed at. The guy was named Stacy and he was an 18 year old speed freak, needles and all. Of course, he was up.

He welcomed us in- immediately Axl hit the bedroom with the girl, T-bone hit the bathroom with Stacy, and I ended up drinking the last of the beer with the Angel. She was smart and sweet and tragic. She didn't know how long she had left to live and it was all so romantic and horrifying at the same time. I was pretty drunk at that point, 17 year old alkie that I was- and we ended up making out on the couch. I tried to go further. I told her it didn't matter- that I didn't care and she didn't deserve to live her life without love and all the other bullshit that a seventeen year old thinks when he's sober much less when's he's stoned and drunk. But she told me no, that we couldn't. And so we cuddled and I passed out.

When I woke up about 30 mins later, she was shooting speed with Stacy. Axl was up, drinking some cheap vodka and T-bone was going through metal cassettes. The girl Axl was with was nowhere to be seen. After they were done shooting up, Stacy was rubbing Angel's back through her shirt. I laid there unmoving, staring at her and her eyes met mine across the room. She looked away and Stacy smirked like a king. Fucking figures, I thought. Just another junkie. I took the bottle away from Axl and took a long swig and went to join T-bone and play some music.

Stacy and Axl told me they were taking a walk. The Angel (who had now fallen from grace in my mind) went with them, after a little cajoling by the guys'. It was still dark, about 4 or 5am. Stacy still had that shitty smirk on his face and Axl just looked like he always did, like a pitbull on acid. I didn't think much about it at first. I was still vaguely hurt and feeling dismissed. I turned away as she walked past, but looked up as they were walking out and saw Stacy's hand on her arm, pulling her.

I sat and stewed for a bit. T-bone was jamming to the music and I was all alone with my thoughts. Finally he looked up and said "Where the hell did everyone go?" "For a walk, man."

He looked incredulous. "At 5 in the fucking morning?" I shook my head to clear it. What were they going outside for? Did they take my car? No, keys are here. I saw T pull his stash from his pocket to make sure it was there. Okay, they didn't gank his dope. If they were going to fuck, they'd just go back to the bedroom. If- Oh, hell. "Come with me" I led him outside and we walked down the street to the park. Before I set foot on the grass of the park I already heard her. Not screaming, not yelling, but a persistent plea-almost for him too- "Don't, Please you can't. I'm positive. I'm positive."

I took off running. There they were in the dark, on the ground, Stacy on top of her with his pants down, Axl patiently waiting for "his turn." I grabbed a handful of Stacy's hair and jerked him backwards onto the ground and started kicking the shit out of him. Axl played stupid "She wanted it man. She told him she would do us both if he got her high man." T-bone steered Axl away from me and I gave Stacy one final savage kick to the side of the face as he lay there gasping and panting with his pants down around his ankles. She stood up and brushed herself off, arranged her clothes and looked me in the eyes. She didn't seem upset, she didn't seem angry. She just seemed high and kind of dead, too. "I told him we couldn't." I looked from her needle track arm to Stacy's fried ass on the ground, still sounding like an animal dying. Jesus christ what a fucking waste of it all.

I couldn't meet her eyes directly after that. "What... what do we do?" I asked her. The cops, I thought?

She brushed some grass off her pants leg. "Take me back to my house." T-bone gathered up Axl and they walked home. I left Stacy in the dirt. We retrieved the girl from Stacy's who was still passed out in the bedroom after having sex with Axl. I dropped them both off as the sun was coming up. When she got out of the car, she apologized to me. "I had a good time with you... I'm sorry."

I looked at her for one last time. What was she sorry for? For being HIV positive? for being a drug addict? for getting raped? I felt as dead as she looked right then, just icy cold to the core. I'm sorry too, is all I thought.

I would like to say I quit hanging out with my friends right then and there. But I didn't. I went to the P, showered and woke Tommy up. I popped some vivarin, washed it down with a coke. And then we headed off to school. Just another day in the life.

Grails

"In the west," the hermit said, "a Cup stands on an altar in a golden tower. You know of it. From its brim the lips of God have tasted.
...

"To take it and bring it away, that ever after it will exalt the hearts of men. Who then will dare it?"

Up from their chairs the knights leapt, bold and loud. "I! I will dare!"
...

I went to her in the sunset of the third day. The rosy glow hung low upon the orchard, and she walked there in her pale summer gown, her gold hair flowing like a stream of light off from her fair face, round her shoulders, to her narrow waist. If I had not done more than touch her mouth or fingers, that too was my strength, for she was beautiful.

"My love. I must be gone with the dawn."
"I know it."
"And if I must ask you, will you wait for me? This road may be long, arduous and cruel."
"Yes, I will wait, my knight. My soul is in your heart."
"And mine in yours," I said.

She wept and her tears were sweet to me, for by her pain I saw her love- God knew, I had had no other proof.
I gave her a ring of gold set with a square blue gem. It lay on her white hand like a flower.
"I will return to you, and you will be my wife."
"I know it, too."
We kissed and parted, and the sun went down.
...

Tales are told of such a quest, of the adventures that attend it and the perils that hunt it down. But there were no mighty deeds or terrors that befell me.

I slept by night in ruined chapels, under tall hills, beneath the eaves of forests; or else in byres, in rich lords' halls.

When winter came, I kept on. More than one winter came and went, as had more than one summer. They were all alike, as the villages were like each other: the squat churches and the carven halls.

I understood the way. It was only to go on.
It might be I should not find my goal.
So much too I comprehended.
I was humble, patient. Yet, was I not sure?
...

By night I dreamed of it. I dreamed I came and put my hand upon it. Sometimes it burned and again it might be icy. Or it changed to water and clipped away, or into a snake, and wrapped about my arm and stared into my eyes. But I knew I would see it. And in the days I dreamed of it too, more and more, and it seemed to me that the more often the Grail was there before my inner vision, the more certain I should be to come to it. As if- God Forgive my blasphemy- I gradually and carefully fashioned it myself, out of the air.
...

Then there was an Easter-tide and when I beheld the children playing in the house, I thought of sons and daughters. And that night I dreamed, in that soft bed, of the children a young knight should have with his young wife.
...

I found the Grail. It was in a tower of gold, beyond a wall of bone...as they said. They do not lie. And the Cup itself? Yes, a single tear, now like blood and now like emerald and now like the sky of night with all the stars inside it.

It was done.
...

"It was a slow, sore journey home and I had been so long on my road, I had mislaid the way. But I was a traveller now, and it was all one to me. Did I yearn for the known land, the castle on the plain, the gardens and the court? They were dreams. I yearned for them. But, idly. I had grown used to loss."
...

"Liege, I have searched these many, many years and brought home to you the Cup of Love. The Grail." Then they murmured, and even into his muddy eyes there swelled a sort of gleam. But it faded.
...

"Later I sought my lady in the broken gardens, and under the apple trees which had died, she met me. She gazed at me askance, finding how I had aged, so lank and lean and grey. She too was wizened and her beauty was all gone, like her golden hair, but on her withered hand the blue ring still perched, a drop of summer water on a dying leaf."

"I have been a long while, " I said.
"I know it."
"But I will wed you now."
"No," she said, "we will not marry. For my dreams of children are all dead, and besides I should not please you."
.
Then I bowed my head and tears fell from my eys, into the grass and thistles, as her tears had fallen at our former parting. But she was old, and half blind and did not see them.
...

During the days which followed, the King's antique cranky men decreed that a magical cup must be hidden in a golden casket, inside a tower of stone, and this sealed with iron and bronze, and a great wall built up, guarded by mastiffs. This, to keep all safe. Therefore barely any remember now that such a treasure is with us, and only a handful know that it was I who strove, and completed the quest. I do not have a care for that, or for anything.
.
In this way I sought and found the Grail, which exalts the hearts of men.
Above Red text are Exerpts from Tanith Lee's Exalted Hearts
.
Our true Grails are often not the ones we seek. The "Quest" itself can disguise the treasures before us.
.
My grail is before me-
.
I can see it, I can touch it, I can hold it, I can even love it. But will I be able to see it for what it is before I discard it in the quest for something new?
.
God, I hope I can.

Each day is a journey...part one

... each day is a destination...
.
"Everything in your teachings is perfectly clear and fully proven; you show the world to be a perfect chain, never and nowhere interrupted, an eternal chain fashioned out of causes and effects. Never before has this been seen so clearly, never so irrefutably presented; truly, every Brahman's heart must beat more jubilantly in his breast when, through your teachings, he sees the world as being perfectly interconnected, without a gap, clear as a crystal, not dependent on chance, not dependent on gods. Whether it is good or evil, whether life in it is sorrow or joy, is not the immediate question- perhaps it is a question of no importance. But the unity of the world, the connectedness of all events, the fact that all things, great and small, are bounded by the same current, by the same law of causality, becoming, and dying- that shines brightly forth from your sublime teachings, O Perfect One. And yet, according to your own doctine, this unity and consequentiality of all things is interrupted in one place; through a small gap there flows into this unified world something strange to it, something new, something that cannot be shown or proven: It is your doctrine of overcoming the world , of salvation. But by this small gap, by this small breach, the whole eternal and unified world law is once again shattered and canceled. Please forgive me for pointing out this objection."

Quote: Siddhartha, Herman Hesse

Song: Blackhawk, Just About Right

Pics: The Fountain

Deadbeat Update

I got in touch with the Husband/ex whatever this morning. She's staying with him again. So I asked him to have her call me. An hour and a half later she did.

She says they are getting back together. Whew. Thank god. It really would be too much to expect that she could possibly get her shit together on her own. Too co-dependent. She's going to pick up the girls around 5:30 and promises she will have them to Main Event for the bday party 15 mins early. Since she's with the hubby I guess she'll be clean.

Okay. One bullet dodged. Now I just need to find a new occupation.

Deadbeat Moms II : The Other side

once upon a time. may as well have been a hundred years ago...

i am pissed off again. Nothing new. Still can't find Andrea. She talked to Amy monday night, promised her she'd pick them up tomorrow...

Messages unreturned. Found out today she doesn't have her car- she loaned it to some guy. But she's getting back with her husband, yah, right. She's been texting the 57 year old rockstar/dealer and Angie, but she can't bother with me. Amy cried again this morning when I told her I might have to pick her up Saturday night so I can make sure she gets bathed and everything before her birthday party Sunday. Andrea didnt bathe them the last two times she kept them...

Fuck I am stressed. If Andrea doesn't show up tomorrow, Amy will be devastated. She hasn't seen her in a month now. Rain doesn't care. Rain misses her mom, sort of, but I think she thinks of her as more of one of my ex-girlfriends than her actual mother.

It kills me. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. Amy wants her mom. I want my daughter to be happy, but this is totally out of my hands.

How in the FUCK did I end up as the responsible one? And if she does show up, how can I trust her ... Goddamn.

Tried to call the husband (is he an ex? Did he file for divorce or what? Guess I should try to call him again..) No answer. Fuck it. Maybe she'll do the right thing. I can't worry about it anymore. I'll cross my fingers and hope for the best. If she is strung out, I hope she doesn't try to pick them up and stay high the whole time.

I don't get it, and I guess I never will. I'm on the other side.

And I know she's probably somewhere singing tonight. I may be lost in the tubes, but she's lost everywhere. And I wish she wasn't. I look at her, and I see a shell, I see a person whose soul has fled. I wish I could help her get it back, but I can't.

Forgive us our Whims

Forgive us our whims

Confused yet? Oh well, its all good,

Live my life like its already gone
Voice my pain from dusk til dawn
No one cares, but its no matter
I've no heart left to shatter-
Drunken rhymes and drunken fools,
Little less useful than broken tools

Spill your blood, open your heart
Split your body and soul apart-
Two damn sides to every single thing...
No good does the combination bring.

Once loved, twice damned.
aint that the fuckin truth

Ah, this drunken prose is what brings the only smiles to a face jaded by the sins of others.
I live for moments like this, where I bring MYSELF into focus. Sober, my id is a murky cloud of indifference. Smashed, I find meaning in the simplest picture. I find hope in the fact that I have none.

Dull your convictions with alcohol and orgasm.
Twist your soul with ectasy and commitment.
The only thing that peace brings is DEATH.
And, the only thing that Death brings is PEACE.

Live your life, Die your Death, hope your hope, Fade into your faith.
Do it the way you want to.
Cause that is the only way worth doing anything...
ckb 4/21/99

ALL.

Ah - that love was not so blind-
that this euphoria of pleasant images
could be prolonged...
eternal.

pity -
that it canna' be...

At least,
not in this life

hahahahahaha
hahahahah
HA.

I have everything I could ever want,
now-
Every pleasure is available to me-
shouldn't I be satisfied?

Man can never be sated-
not whilst he is troubled by the hunger for ALL
and - even then - man would be troubled by ambitions for owning the
unknown itself! And so, Life's goal is unattainable is it not? We waste what is in our grasp and dream about that which can never be ours...

something so very basic eludes me-
Something so close to the 'reality' of what we are and what we are
meant to be- dances tantalizingly out of reach. Something That I am aware of subconsciously- but something that cannot be fully fathomed by a mind prejudiced by science and our current level of "technology" Ha! What we have searched so futiley for, for so long has always remained within our grasp.
Everything "imaginable" everything that humans could ever have the capacity to learn, everything humans could ever TRULY KNOW is locked in this - brain-
this brain that we do not fully use- that we do not fully apply!

s'truth it is...

Naked by the computer - man's mind hath built-
I know.
And that- to me, is answer enough.

So. AM i more ignorant than the rest for wallowing in my self-inferred
retrospect? self-provoked actually- or am I just accepting the apathy that grips us all? I feel that I should shout- and run amongst those of knowledge and let them hear of these- my humble or not so humble conclusions- and take heed-
but... no...

Each human, each person (rather) can only take what conclusions their
own mind/brain provides. At least, this is true with those of truly
independent thought processes. Each idea revealed to me - is only a mad
insight to others- Should I strive to convince others of the TRUTH of my statements?

Nay.

It is in my nature to say "no". I will not/could not force my insights upon others - Far better that they take their own insights
(however flawed) instead of taking mine(however flawed). It is ludicrous to continue this self-analyzation, is it not? Does it matter? ...the eternal question - one which I can answer. Simply, most finally- YES! Because your existence matters to only one - yourself. Do whatever it is that you think you were truly meant for - as long as it keeps you happy...Because - to me – that is the only thing that really matters
(however flawed my logic may be)

Dare You Question it?
DO IT.

Stalling the Sandman

You ain't living til you are explaining inflation to an eight year old. 20 minutes later we went from the Supreme court to bad dreams and how to control them.

Yes, it's bedtime and all manner of exotic subjects arise to prevent the coming of the sandman. We discussed it a little bit, how to realize you are in a bad dream, and that you have the power to control the direction of the dream and stop whatever BAD THING is after you (it was a guy with an ax in this example).. So finally, another hug, I said a quick little charm for her benefit, and to all a good night...

Well not all. I think I'm going to make another vid tonight... play with movie maker and some muzak. I made my goodbyes on HOTRS. Gonna miss it, but man, it takes ALL my time. And I really can't be totally myself while I am in "Activist" mode. Sometimes you just got take some time off from attempting to be the good guy and just be the fuckup that you are... That's what this blog is ALL Aboot... Oh, yah- apologized emphatically to the female unit. All is well in matrimonyland.

Don't be a dick. Don't be a dick. Must-not-be-assholey. Must-suppress-innate-bastard-nature....

Anyway...

Breaking Clean

Trying to think of one big kick ass post to end my political blog with. Got the pic made, already. Think I'll give it a week and throw up the grand "poof" and I'm gone. Burnt out on the political arena. I've had a lot of good feedback- but it made me realize I really, really have no interest in a career in political journalism or punditry. I've met a hell of a lot of cool people- and above all - I've learned so much through being a part of it. But the end of May will be one whole huge clean break with a lot of things-

Leaving the financial group- the Marriage - a baby on the way- Mom dying- So much shit happening, both ending and beginning... I have to focus on carving my way through this financial turmoil and figuring out where I am going in the coming years. I guess we go where Lauren's career takes us. You know me, I love the chaos, I'll be happy wherever I end up. The boys are grown now. That's a sobering thought. It seems like a blink, now. So much stuff. A life that has definitely been lived- and it ain't over yet.

I got to pull that peace out of the chaos that is me and find a center in this void. If I don't, I will ruin the lives of those closest to me, who rely on me still.

Ah, life- almost no one gets out of it alive.

I don't expect to get out of it alive, but it would be nice, to leave it a better place than I have in the past...