Friday, September 26, 2008

Fuckers destined to land up in Hell

I cannot believe in a paradise
Glorious, undefiled,
For gates all scrolled and streets of gold-
are tales for a dreaming child.
I am too lost for shame
That it moves me unto mirth,
But I can vision a hell of flame
For I have lived on Earth.
*two fisted Bob lives on*
Bring it, Shaitan

Charmed life, my ass- that bitch is skeered.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

And for every death, a life -

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

(Native American birth blessing)

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

Cry, Rejoice, Repeat.


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

The Mom

Mom died this morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOW I know.
It was her.
God bless that woman.

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

The Devil that is me

Aug. 1 2008

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


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

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

As inebriated as I let myself get anymore

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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