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
Thursday, May 29, 2008
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.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
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
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
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
Sunday, May 25, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Friday, May 16, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
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)
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)
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
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?
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?
Monday, May 12, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, May 5, 2008
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.
...
"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.
...
"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.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
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."
.
"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
Friday, May 2, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
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.
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
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.
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.
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