Great aspirations, pisspoor goals

(another post from my collection of letters and journals)


When and If you decide how you want to live-
How and why you try to feel-
It all becomes a matter of what you wish to give,
Your fear must not overcome your will.
The truth of the soul is what is at stake-
Hidden behind those many veils,
That life is only of what you make-
Is only one of many Hells.
Nothing is certain, that is for sure,
Do as thou wilt, wisdom as false has been shown-
and think not too much, think not of a cure,
There’s no right way to live -You got to live your own.

I am plagued by great aspirations of conflicting goals. I want both sides and I want neither. I spew forth melodramatic fragments of thought and complete nothing. Is my inability to maintain one continuous flow of thought due to this age of procrastination and fickleness of desire, or my own failings as (may I call myself a 'writer'? - well no one else is looking, so why not?) a Writer? Faith! I cannot even complete a paragraph without changing the subject at hand.

I feel that I have so much to say and not the time, or not the ability to put the words together properly. I try so desperately to express what I really want to, but the correct phrases disappear as soon as they cross my confused mind's eye. I fear that I have addled my mind with the drugs and alcohol consumed in such haphazard fashion, romantically emulating my adolescent vision of Poe, courting tragedy as desire, and foolishly expecting glory all this time, still expecting it. Fool that I am, uneducated save by the books that I read so voraciously, not that I would not seek out such education- It is just that I am bothered by such whimsical tomfoolery such as Working, supporting my son/s, (Oh don't lie to them, Kirk old boy,) Oh, very well, I have been living and making love to women and romancing life and doing everything that I seem to think that I have not whenever I sit around and think too much. But still where is my greater meaning? Am I just a beast? When I let myself be, I suppose I am - Feeding my sense of pleasure instead of my sense of well-being.

Even now, I haven't answered the phone all day and I got up to answer it in the chance that it was Angela, my fiancee'. But no- It was Doyel, and guess what? He wants me to drive over and pick him up so we can do god knows what (Hell, I think we even surprise HIM once in a while) And guess what else? Yes- I said that I would be there in fifteen minutes. Me with negative 29 dollars in the bank and not even a checkbook at hand to fling those burning pieces of paper at the cashier at the local liquor store or restaurant. Oh boy- gotta go I suppose. Do I want to or not? I guess that I'm a masochist after all cause I am on my way.
place appropriate self-derision here)
9:30 pm
Later)

Well, that was a waste of time, but not as much of a waste as it could have been, I suppose. We just came back to the house and watched some movies and went to sleep. Not much else to do as broke as we are, not to mention exhausted.
7/7/95

The honesties that pay no dividends

(this is a letter I wrote to my Dad back in the days of working at Berryhill)

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

Well, I guess that I realize that you aren't going to change by yourself. I have offered you help in the past, I offered to go with you to Alcoholics Anonymous, as both of us alcoholics, not just me going with you to support you, but both of us together, supporting each other. I would do whatever it takes to help you be happy. Every time you curse me, or Grandma, or Ryan you are only making things worse. I know that we retaliate, at least Ryan and I do.

For a time I believed you. I thought that Grandma and Grandpa had done terrible things to you as a child to make you that way, but then I realized that you treat me and Ryan the same way- Like we are all shit and your life is so bad for having to deal with us. But let me tell you something, Ryan and I have never done a damn thing to YOU. Never, besides rebelling against the way you treat us. I have never done anything to hurt you, no matter how many times I locked myself in a closet as a child, crying, wishing that you were dead, I have never done anything to you. I never even struck back at you all those times you hit me, and up until a year ago I would never have thought of doing so. I don't believe Grandma did anything to you anymore, except spoil you rotten. You treat her worse than any of us, worse than the horrible way that you treat your sons. You curse her and yell at her and basically spit in her face. She is the main reason you live the way you do, expensive car, expensive house, pool, You would not have jack shit if it weren't for her- I know that you would argue about that, but you know that its true. Beyond all of that- Betrayal of family -you also are lazy and don't bother to show up for work half the time. You bitch about working all your life and you need a break once in a while - Well, Mr. Workaholic you have missed exactly 3 weeks and 4 days in the past 3 months. And oddly enough, one of those weeks was a PAID Vacation. You have some audacity, to spit in all of our faces once again, by making everyone work that much harder in order to get things done.

And today, Grandpa and Grandma really need a break, they were wanting to go on vacation but you had to go off on a drunk again, what - overworked again ? I don't think so. You bring a lot of unneeded stress on all of us. I would say that you should be ashamed, but I don't think that you know what guilt or shame is. If you did, you probably couldn't be able to look anyone in the eyes around here. I love you, but you can only beat a dog so much before he bites back, and everyone around here has been kicked just about to death.

Just think about it, reflect on what you want out of life, Do you want us all to hate you? Sometimes I think that you do, it would be easier for you to continue hating us. Well, we all love you, dad. We just wish you could get your life straight.

Your son,
Kirk
1995

Purging

Whew... well that crown royal I got for xmas yesterday certainly didn't go to waste... Binge and Purge your head and your heart...

I'm good, now.

Getting the girls ready to go let them spend their holiday moolah.

Everyone have a nice post-yule day.

Drink yourself to sleep, now

It never gets any easier.

If it weren't for the girls, I could forget her and move on.

Every new day that she isn't here for them is a new abandonment for me.
It's another one of those nights. I haven't cried in a long time, but I'm crying now.
Is it for her? or is it for me?

or is it for Amy and Rain?

i guess a little bit of them, and a Lot of me

Damn the stupidity in us all.

She put him out, like the burning end of a midnight cigarette.
She broke his heart.
He spent his whole life trying to forget.
They watched him drink his pain away, a little at a time
but he never could get drunk enough, to get her off his mind..
until tonight
he put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
he finally drank away her memory
Life is short, but this time it was bigger,
than the strength he had to get he had to get up off his knees
They found him with his face down in the pillow,
with a note that said "I'll love her til I die"
and when we buried him beneath the willow,
the angels sang a whiskey lullabye..

Predictable fucker

I was called Predictable tonight.

I don't think any of my exes would ever agree with that statement, but nowadays, I have to. I'm kinda proud to be consistent/predictable= even as boring as it is. I'll be at work in the morning (even tho its my day off.I'm weird like that). I'll rush home after work to clean house and run errands for the girls. I'll be half grumpy while still cracking jokes and laughing (at myself, most of the time). And yes, when it comes time to have free time for myself, I'll seek out a friend, and hopefully share a beer and some chilling out time.

And if that's all predictable, so be it. I'll take that as a compliment. Because I know what being unpredictable is like= and those people are fun sometimes, but you sure as shit cant trust em.

And now, I predict, I'll have another beer. Did you see that one coming?

Imperfect Gift

A man stands.
Sometimes he can do no more.

Every once in a long while something brings him back to life.
Someone moves his heart, and his being to stir. Someone makes him breathe deep and appreciate that breath.

Contrary to belief, love is not perfect- it is a study of imperfection and therein lies its deepest magic. And those chaotic moments where someone special goads you out of your self-imposed exile breathes life into you when you least expect it.

And they make you want to live. They give you your own life back, with their zest for you, and what you give them in return, sometimes even as you make them pull it grudgingly from you-

words do not do those perfectly imperfect moments justice

What we share is poetry. It is very much cherished, just as it is unique.

It is the best gift I ever got, and the best i'll ever give. In the only flawed way I can give it.

Merry Christmas Babochka. This is for you, and for all the people who breathe life into you, and all the ones who breathe life into me, despite myself, most times.

her, always her

I can feel her

the memory of me touching her spreads through me

a warm wave that electrifies every one of my senses

I can see her

In my mind's eye. Her smile, her eyes, HER

In my mind she is here. I wrap her up, I envelop her in my love. I tell her everything I need to tell her, how I love her, how I would do anything for her...

in reality, she's a little bit further than that

She's a foot away, My hand reaches out, then falls.

It's never that easy, is it?

Age, not necessarily wisdom

You know you are getting old when you can't get angry any more...

Concluding arguments

"The older you get, the fewer things you really love".

Is this wisdom, or just boredom with the things you seek and receive?

I know what things I have sought the most in my life. I don't know if it is the same with everyone... Do we all actually get what we want the most?

Do some of us never get what we want, because, having attained what we have gotten, we no longer desire it?

Do some of us never seek what we really want, because we are afraid of not being able to attain it?

Do we satisfy ourselves with less so we will not have the utter disappointment of failure at our heart's desire?

In my case, I'd have to say yes.

Love story

It's that moment, when realization dawns. And they see that awful sunrise in your eyes. It's then, that your best friend tells you, he admits to you, he confesses to you- that he loves the woman that you love.

And you turn furious, accusing eyes on her. And you see her love, for him-
but also you see her love for you too...

And at first it blinds, and then it dims. And you think to yourself, I loved her first, man.

And red rage fights a battle in your mind, your heart, your soul.

But, it's never up to- You.

And you look to him, your best friend, and you look to her, your love. You try to figure out, whose betrayal is the worse. And having loved her, and having been there- where he is, with her, you even know more than they do, in that soul-crushing moment.

You realize, how fleeting their love is, and will be - and its a pebble kicked aimlessly onto your coffin, lowered in its grave as you comprehend all the more fully- how fleeting the love you had with her actually was. Now as your inner thoughts scramble to rescue it all- you can't help but feel the finality of that grand love slipping away, as it was inevitably fated to do.

In the moment of that final nightfall over your heart, you forgive them, because you know what they do not- they are doomed too. And that is when you forgive them, despite it all, despite your own hateful heart.

They will find their grail is a poisoned cup, when that love is borne of duplicity. In their hearts, they have betrayed, but the unforgivable betrayal is one of self.

God consciousness and Hippie Manifest Destiny

From The New Sun, George Harrison Interview 1990 (all emphases are mine own)


Gorge Harrison: I wouldn't like to say that I'm absolutely God conscious. It's like everybody else. We're battling with the forces that are pulling us upwards and downwards at the same time. But basically we all want love, that's what I feel. And all love is really God's love. It's God's love manifest in this world through everything that's in this world, and all the people in the world. I think what the Krishna thing did for me was the Bhakti – which is called Bhakti Yoga. It's that method whereby you realize that the Lord is in everything that's in creation. So, when you look at a tree, it's really a reflection of God. You see it in other people – that's him too, you know?

They take it to the extreme: the food you eat, you taste him on your tongue, you hear him in the music. There's the whole significance of Krishna as the flute player who awakens our consciousness. It doesn't necessarily have to be a flute because for me it was a sitar or a guitar or even Elvis Presley doing "Heartbreak Hotel." It was like Krishna's flute calling me somewhere.


It's just really simple when we can remember.


I think the main thing that we have to do is try and train ourselves to remember from moment to moment that God is living within us and within everybody else, and just trying to remember to see that.


LD: Do you think there's a growing number of people who are starting to train themselves to remember?


GH: Yeah, I think it's growing all the time. Definitely, I think it's much more acceptable, the idea of meditation or yoga. The idea of God trying to contact the soul within ourselves.


Back in the 60s it was a bit like, you know , the hippies or the philosophers were the only people.


I was brought up in the kind of Catholic situation up until I was about eleven years old, which was that God is this thing that we're never going to see, we're never going to meet, but you still have to believe in what we say. It's like this blind faith in something that they can't show you.

The first thing that made me really realize that it was available was a book on yoga that I got on one of my early trips to India. It was called Raja Yoga by the Swami Vivekananda. Right on the inside of that book cover he said,


"If there's a God, we must see him and if there's a soul we must perceive it. Otherwise, it's better not to believe. It's better to be an outspoken atheist than a hypocrite."


Then, on reflection, I realized that the Christianity that had come in my life as a child was all this idea that you're never going to see him. It's like hypocrisy, in a way.

That's why I wrote in "My Sweet Lord," "I really want to see you," because if there is a God, I want to see him. I don't want to just hear some holy roller shouting about him. And the same with the Pope. I want the Pope to say, okay, I would like the Christ consciousness. I don't want to just talk about him.

LD: That line struck me when it first came out.

GH: Yeah, we all want to see him. And then, when you say, "Where is he?" they say, "Well, you can't see him. He's out there somewhere, but we don't know exactly where he is." Through the Indian philosophy and all that I came into contact with, it just showed me that it's actually inside. He lives in our hearts.

It's a matter of turning your consciousness inward in order to then realize that it's in there, and then you can see him outside too. It's just a shift in attitude, really.

LD: What do you think a person can do to understand and change themselves?

GH: I think basically people just approach it any way they can. Sometimes you can't just force yourself, but there's a saying: "Knock and the door will be opened." I think the first thing is that people have to have the desire within themselves to find out who they are. Who am I and what am I doing here and where am I going? Those sort of basic questions. Even without picking up a book or anything. If they just ask themselves that sincerely, in the quiet of the night, the door will open. And whether it will be somebody who will come along and say, "Hey, have you read this?" Or, "Why don't you come and look at this?" – it happens in many different ways.

It's how the Lord gives you, in the garden, all these differed kinds of flowers and trees because if there was only one kind of flower and you didn't like it, it would be bad. So, there's just an abundance of ways of approaching that which is within ourselves. I think that the basic answer to your questions is that it has to start within the individual.

They have to have a desire within themselves to know who they are and the reason why they are in this body.

LD: How about the future for you? Is there more that you want to know spiritually, musically?

GH: Oh yeah. I still feel like everybody else, that I'm just growing and learning. Basically, I feel pleased to have discovered this thing that's inside me, that's connected to the same thing that's inside everybody and everything. I think now it's just a matter of trying to hold onto it and manifest it more and more. If I feel love, I just want to feel more love. And if I feel a bit of peace, I want to feel more peace. But I don't really have any great ambitions. I feel very happy. I've got a lot of good friends. I just want it to be better and more of it, really. (Laughs.)

LD: How do you think the world is changing?

GH: Well, I've learned from the Bhagavad-Gita that it is not something that's just this mystical baloney that doesn't relate to our lives now. What it is, is explaining this dual energy that is pulling us one way -- upwards into higher consciousness -- and its opposing energy which is just the nature of this physical world, trying to pull us down.

What the Bhagavad-Gita says is that it's man's moral judgement from moment to moment as to which way we get pulled. We can go up or we can do down. I think generally the world is going on an upward swing. We're in a part of a cycle where people are discovering more. The communications are better. We're getting more into the subtle electricities that control the universe. We don't, as a collective life on this planet, all get groovy together or all sink into ignorance together. One by one we liberate our souls, our individual souls, from the cycle by our own realizations. So, one by one, each soul gets "released from that Memphis Blues again," you know?

LD: So it's up to each person.

GH: It is. It's deep down to each person. So in one way, we're on an upward swing, but at the same time there's still a lot of evil that goes on in the world. I think it's definitely heading in a better direction, but it seems to take so long for all the people with the power, who control the negative side of life and all the bad inventions they have like guns and bombs and hate. But there has to be a balance. We've got to all try harder to manifest more love in order to counteract all that.

Greatest Drunk in the World

Some People Never go Crazy. What terrible lives they must lead.- Bukowski

Alcohol is probably one of the greatest things to arrive upon this earth, alongside of me- Bukowski

A writer has no responsibility- except to jack off in bed alone, and type a good page... (Of course, Bukowski)

Drink. Write. Fuck.

In that order of importance.

The Sunset Limited - part I

"So, what am I supposed to do with you, Professor?"

"Why are you supposed to do anything?"

"Well, like I said, this ain't none of my doing. When I left outta here to go into work this morning, you weren't no part of my plans, but...here you is."

"That doesn't mean anything. Everything that happened, doesn't mean something else."

"What's it mean, then?"

"It doesn't mean anything. You run into people, and maybe some of them are in trouble or something, but it doesn't mean you are responsible for them. Anyway, people who are always looking after perfect strangers are very often the people who won't look out for the ones they are supposed to look out for, in my opinion. ... If you are just doing what you're supposed to, you don't get to be a hero"

"And that would be me?"

"I don't know. Would it?"

"I can see where there might be some truth in that, but in this particular case, I got to say, I don't know what sort of person I was supposed to be on the lookout for, or what I was supposed to do when I found him. In this particular case, I didn't have but one thing to go by-"

"And that was?"

"There he is, standing there. And I can look at him and say, he don't look like my brother, but there he is. So maybe you better look again."

"And that's what you did?"

"Well, I got to say, you were pretty hard to ignore. Your approach was pretty direct."

"I didn't approach you. I didn't even see you."

"What I don't understand, is how you come to get yourself in such a fix."

"Yeah"

"You alright, you sleep last night?"

"No."

"Well... when did you decide today was the day? Was there something special about it?"

"No... Well, today is my birthday, but I certainly don't regard that as special."

"Hmm - Well, happy birthday, Professor."

"Thank you."

"So you seen that your birthday was coming, and you decided that was a good day?"

"Who knows? Maybe birthdays are dangerous- like Christmas, ornaments hanging from the tree, wreaths from the door, and bodies from the steampipes, all over America..."

"That don't say much for Christmas, do it?"

"Christmas is not what it used to be."

"I believe that to be a true statement, I surely do."

"I got to go."

"You always put your coat on like that?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"I ain't say nothing was wrong with it, I'm just asking if that's your regular method-"

"I don't have a regular method. I just put it on"

"Mmm-hmm"

"That's what? Effeminate?"

"I''m just studying the ways of professors."

"Well, I've got to go."

"Let me get my coat."

"Get your coat? Where you going?"

"Going with you."

"What do you mean? Going with me where?"

"Going with you, where ever it is you're going."

"No you're not."

"Yeah, I am."

"I'm going home."

"Alright."

"What do you mean, Alright, you're not going home with me."

"Sure I am. Let me get my coat"

"You can't go home with me."

"Oh, what, you can go home with me, but I can't go home with you?"

"No. I mean no, that's not it. You can't go home with me."

"Why not? You live in an apt? They don't let black folk in there?"

"No. I mean, yes, yes of course they do. Look, no more jokes. I've got to go, I'm very tired."

"Okay, long as you don't run into no hassle about getting me in there."

"You're serious. "

"I think you know I'm serious. "

"You can't be serious."

"I'm serious as a heart attack."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Me? I ain't got no choice."

"Of course you do. You have a choice"

"No, I ain't"

"Who appointed you my guardian angel?"

"You know who appointed me your guardian angel. Now look, I didn't ask for you to jump into my arms down in the subway this morning."

"I didn't jump in your arms."

"No."

"Well, how'd you get there, then? ... What, now we ain't going?"

"Do you Really think Jesus is in this room?"

"No. I don't think he's in this room. I Know he's in this room. It's the way you put it, Professor. It'd be like me asking you if you think you put your coat on."

"It's not the same thing. It's a matter of agreement. If you and I say that I have my coat on, and Cecil says that I am naked and have green skin and a tail, we might want to think about where we should put Cecil so that he doesn't hurt himself."

"Who's Cecil?"

"He's not anybody. He's just a hypothetical. There's not any Cecil. He's just a character I made up to illustrate a point."

"Made up?"

"Yes"

"So, his view of things don't count?"

"No. That's why I made him up. I could have changed things up, I could have made you the one who didn't think I was wearing a coat."

"And was green, and all that other shit you said?"

"Yes."

"But you didn't?"

"No."

"You load it all off on Cecil."

"Yes."

"But Cecil can't defend hisself, on account of he ain't in agreement with everyone else so his word don't count. Aside from the fact that you made him up."

"Where is this going?"

"I'm just trying to find out about Cecil."

"I don't think so.

Long to belong

‎Rocky Voyles once told me, "Everybody's got to belong to somebody".

But some of us never belong to anybody.

And, in the end, I guess thats the way we probably wanted it.

Everways Puck

Captain of our fairy band,
Helena is here at hand,
And the youth, mistook by me,
Pleading for a lover's fee.
Shall we their fond pageant see?
Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Send her my Love

i found Misha today.

Dana was my first, my innocence, my beauty, my goddess.

Misha was my first bad girl, the end of my innocence. She was my beauty, my goddess, but of a whole different pantheon of passion and emotion.

I have dreamed of her for 20 odd years. I had one picture of her, those years ago. When I ran away from home and ended up getting arrested in New Mexico, all those years ago, they confiscated the guns, the stolen "evidence" and my wallet, which had pictures of Dana, Charla Cusimano, Courtney, and my one pic of Misha.

I have not seen her since.

I discovered that my best friend Greg, knew her, in Amarillo, years before. We were college roommates, talking about our first loves. I mentioned Misha, described her in so much perfect detail, that he recognized her. I recalled that she had moved from Amarillo to Lubbock. And it was so crazy- He knew her as the most beautiful girl in his school, before she moved off.

And she had moved to Lubbock and met me. She was so wild, so free, so decadent, and even so corrupt. She was the girl that made it impossible for all other girls that followed. She was a hard act to follow.

I've looked for her, on and off, for years.

I've heard this, and that. And ran into her Dad a time or two, years after she was gone.

But then, she was gone.

And- I found her tonight.

No matter how jaded i think I am, I walked on clouds today, having seen her once again.

Love never forgets.

The foolish notion known as love

A few hours ago we were kissing. I held her in my arms and she kissed my neck softly and I didnt want to let her go.





I was writing her to tell her what she means to me. And I'm pretty good at this writing shit, not to toot my own horn, but I can throw some romantic syntax when the mood takes me- but It wasn't ENOUGH. I didn't want to imagine her reading my words, this time.





So I decided I would call her, and pour out my heart. And so i deleted the long letter and I called her, breathless with anticipation. My heart leapt and bounced sideways in my chest as I prepared the words in my head.





She answered, and you could hear the smile on my face as I beamed- "Hey you, what are you doing?" Her voice was a little flat. "I'm sitting here with _____." It took a second or two to register. And then my heart sunk a mile. It all hit, immediate and crashing like an elevator dropping out from under me. "Oh, you went to see him at-" "No he's here, at my apartment"





And, that was that. And even before I clicked end, I already felt like the fool that I was- that I am. I was already laughing at myself while crying inside with shame.

Beg for it

HNIC-DFB

Listening to "Red light" for the thirtieth time, this week. Why is pain remembered somehow a source of pleasure for me as I get older?

It brings me happiness to dwell on the sadness. What the hell IS that all about, anyway?

I have a half-ass gf who keeps playing all these games., and i'm way too old for that shit, but, its all the relationship i've got, so somehow i keep hanging in there, thinking it will get better. The relationship is all secret, on both sides. We play our roles, and avoid the commitment aspect. We tell each other we love each other, and I think we do. But, we've been through a lot. And a relationship just isn't the end-all, be-all it was made out to be.

I don't really know how into me she is, or is not. We are a lot alike. We are, well, both sluts. And the odd thing is, we don't ever hardly ever fall into bed with each other. We are close friends, and we give each other support. We take care of each other. And we have that deeper love, that I imagine is how older couples feel about one other. I wouldn't know. I have never had a relationship that lasted long enough to know.

The sexual aspect just doesnt factor in that much. She's really hot. And a lot younger. And she keeps me from feeling alone. I expect I do the same for her. The oddest thing is that the passion that is usually the first all-consuming notion of a new relationship isnt there. Its just like we are such good friends that we can't really go there- on either side.

I can sense that she knows that I am good for her, and I know she would be good for me. But we just can't go to "that place". Emotionally, sexually. We don't allow ourselves to lose control.

And thus, it really isn't real.

Love is all about losing control, and giving in, and freeing your mind to the whims of your heart.

And, we just don't go there.

And, maybe its all for the best. i hate being alone, and i hate being with someone. I'm a difficult fucking bastard, this is true.

I'll leave it there, for now..

Friends that fade

Doyel's dad called me last week.

Turns out Doyel is coming up for parole. He's been in prison ten years now. I'd say I wouldn't wish that on anyone, but I have. On him, even.

His dad said that he "knows that there's been some history" but asked if I would write a letter to the parole board recommending an early release.

I feel for his family, I truly do. He shit on them a hundred times worse than he did on me. And arguments could be made that they brought it on themselves. I don't believe that part, any more. Truth is, poverty and ignorance go hand in hand. And hanging around with the people I did, in the circles I did, gave me a helluva insight into generational devolution and the morass of apathy that is the lower-lower class. It spawns itself, over and over. Few of us ever get beyond it.

I didn't tell his dad that I'd write that letter. I did, however get the address. And I thought I might write it. But, it ended up that I didn't.

"knows that there's been some history". Yeah, that, there has been. I remember a lot of things about my old best friend. Things you can't un-remember, no matter how hard you try.

Ryan and I moved from the projects to the country. Mom married sideways, from the single mother with 3 jobs, kids raising ourselves lifestyle out to Bumfuck Egypt. We moved out to a three acre farm, with a step-dad who would one day become beloved to us, but at the time was just a alkie welder with a decent job. We moved out to the East side, past the ghetto, out into the ramshackle neighborhood of shacks, trailers and half-ass farms that filled an area that was surrounded by cotton fields. Our new step-brothers didn't like us none, and sure didn't like their new replacement mom- who was filling the void their real mom left when she took off and wrote them all off. At the time, they might have thought she was going to come back some day. She never did.

So, here were two city kids, moved out to nowhere, with a new built-in family who didnt really care for us a bit.

Doyel was the neighbor kid. He was two years older than me when I met him. I was 12, he was 14. The first week we met him, he had noticed how our new step-brothers were picking on us and testing us, and he decided to join in on the fun. I bloodied his nose and pushed him off his bike, which gained me some respect from my redneck step brothers, but no love from Doyel. We all rode the bus to school together the first couple of years that I knew him. I was already a little rocker. Doyel, raised up christian, listened to Stryper, a christian rock band. We had yelling matches on the bus all that time- Me proclaiming "six-six-six" and giving the devil horns, and Doyel piously yelling out "Seven-Seven-Seven, God Rules!" Hell, he didn't even cuss til he turned 16.

My older step brothers had been run off by my mom by the time Doyel turned 16. She had quit drinking, got my step-dad to quit drinking, and alcohol was "no longer allowed in This house!" So of course, my older stepbrothers left, although they would drift back in, from time to time- whenever they were down and out. My youngest brother and step-brother caught the football bug, and sports became their life. Doyel became 16 and got an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. So, Fuck the bus... we ended up hanging out more and more.

... Damn. I am starting to realize this could be a novel. No time for all that shit now.... Too much reminiscing makes Daddy pine for the fjords. (There ya go, John). I'm going to try to avoid fleshing this story out too much, and just stick to the remembrances that swam through my head all this week as I contemplated Doyel, the past, the present, and whatever future there may be.

I remember picking up Dana Gentry and Holly Smits in the mornings at Lake Ransom Canyon and taking them to school - Two dirt road longhair punks hanging out with rich girls. I remember parties in the ghetto, Doyel getting me into fights (He NEVER Fought)... I remember we would cross reference how much alchohol and gas money a girl could get her hands on with how easy she was in our decision making for who we would pick up that night. I remember his parents banning me from his house and mine banning him from mine. I remember breaking his bedroom window sneaking girls into his house late at night. I remember going out to Horseshoe bin canyon and listening to Queensryche Operation Mindcrime and Metallica Kill em all and stairway to heaven at the top of the canyon and listening to the music reverbate off the canyon walls.

I remember letting him drive everywhere, cuz he was a better driver, and it gave me more time to make out in the backseat with whichever girls we had picked up. I remember his fucked up family, and getting in fights with them cuz my Daddy was rich. I remember winning most of those fights. I remember the night he graduated high school and we partied. I remember the night I graduated high school and we partied. I remember every other night in high school (and we partied). I remember him picking up my camaro at my work, then him showing up when my shift was up, with a pair of girls and a case of beer. I remember losing a lot of sleep and living on vivarin.

I remember surfing on my t-tops and street racing everywhere we went, day or night. I remember swords, and petty theft, and gangfights and road dogs and lots and lots of weed. I remember the night I told him I was leaving Lubbock to go to college in Dallas and how we went on a crying drunk. I remember how he never forgave me for leaving to go to Dallas while he stayed stuck in god-damned Lubbock.

I remember bringing people from college back to party at his house. I remember finding out he sold my little brother dope and me threatening to kill him if I heard he ever did it again. I remember talking him into leaving the dope and the fucked up family and coming to Dallas to work at the service station I did after I dropped out of college. I remember the people at the liquor store gave him a charge account and looked at me like I was crazy when i asked for one. I remember Doyel picking up some black girls who ended up giving us enough furniture to furnish our whole apartment. I remember getting arrested with him and him signing out of jail under my name when I got bailed out because I was asleep. I had to figure out on my own that I was him, in order to get out of jail later that day by pretending I was him. I remember him leaving me with rent due and sneaking back to Lubbock when Randy Laird got out of prison. I remember him going back to the meth. I remember writing him off.

I remember getting drunk one day, years later, and going out to his house. I remember regretting that, and I remember John Welch and Angela Rash regretting it far more than me. I remember Doyel stealing my truck and my cell phone. Racing for $20 bumps all night on 82nd street the night Angela moved out, and blowing my motor later that night. I remember selling him the fucked up truck later, making him sign a contract for $1500 for it. I remember he paid me $50 down. And that was fucking it.

I remember him getting more and more dope-fucked. I remember the night he spiked a shot of tequila with a sixteenth of crank while i was damn near passed out and made me drink it. I woke instantly up, and we were headed for Relax & Tan in my fiancee's car. I only got half a block before i totalled her car. I remember how Doyel told me it was a good thing for the crank because I was able to come up with such an iron clad alibi/lie to tell the cops that night so that we wouldnt go to jail and the insurance would still cover the car.

I remember Doyel coming over with Donny Dunaghey and trying to sell me a military issue bulletproof jacket and taking turns shooting each other with a .22 pistol while wearing it in my front yard. I remember thinking just hanging out with idiots like this prevented me from ever doing hard drugs.

I remember him ripping me off. Once, twice. Three times.

I remember the last time he came over to my house, on a sunday afternoon. How he threw his waterproof crank container in my 2 year old daughters swimming pool to her, as she waded. I remember him trying to sell that crank to one of my friends, who he didnt know and had never met while I sat there watching his tweaked out ass. He asked if he could have a beer. There had been a party the night before, and I still had a fridge full. I said yes, come on in. I opened the fridge for him, and I said take all you want. I remember how he greedily held his dingy shirt out in order to load it up with about 8 bottles of beer. I remember how happy he looked at his good fortune. He gleefully loaded it up in his truck and popped one open.

I remember asking him if he could do a favor for me, in return. He smiled and said, "Sure!" And I remember telling him to get in his truck, and to leave my house and to never, EVER come over or talk to me again.

And I remember thinking, Goddamn, if I Never see him again, it'll be too soon.

And I haven't yet.

Time Capsule

Tristan is here. We are doing his birthday party with the Berryhills today. Then maybe catching his first ever movie in a theatre. Hopefully he wont set the place on fire.

Amy's doing well with the guitar thang. She played her first concert this year, just a small West Texas music fest, but she was the youngest guitarist there, playing on stage with Walk of Famer John Hartin. It was an awesome experience for her. She really did well and I think it built her self-confidence immensely. She's really come into her own these past years. The stuff with her mother has hurt her, but it didn't break her. Like me and my real father, it has burned away the excess and revealed the steel underneath. Amy is very, very strong, unlike her mother. Where Andrea let her personal tragedies warp her, Amy has shaped the bad into good and used it to make her a better person. She's much like Evan.

Evan's doing well. College classes going good, he finally shifted to ASU, where he had gotten accepted in the first place, but his mother stepped in and screwed that up. He's working almost full time and I'm proud of his multi-tasking and being successful at making it all work.

Andrew came to visit last month for his 22nd birthday. That was a really good time. It was great having him and the girls together again. They miss their brothers quite a bit. We did a bunch of family activities. Andrew had mentioned going out for his birthday, but I thought about it, and I let him go with his Aunt instead. I can think of nothing more depressing or reprehensible than drinking with your child, crazed alkie that I may be at times. So we stuck with family stuff and it was a great experience. So many things have changed since Andrew was a child. He has grown so much. It's actually amazing how Amy mirrors Evan and Andrew mirrors Rain. But maybe its not that amazing, I raised them all, in the formative years, and they all exhibit some of the same characteristics. I am proud of the job I did on that end- striving to be like my mother and instill the core values deeply. They are good, thoughtful kids who know wrong from right and strive to be better than the average person.

Self-awareness and self-analysis is a big part of that. Each day we learn more about those around us, and ourselves.

Tristan's hair has grown back from where I shaved it, into a cute little crewcut. His mom is still pissed off at me. But, the hell with her. Its just hair. And the mohawk looked cool for a little while at least, heh. She fucked me on the divorce, after I strived to make it the least expensive on our wallets and try to be adults about it. I set up the child support to automatically come out, at the rate we agreed upon. I've got no problem with that. I wish Andrea could hold a job so she could whittle down what she owes me ($55,000 at this point). Lauren secretly moved to Kansas without telling me, taking Tristan with her. At this time, she's in contempt of court for not informing me of her intention to move, giving me her new address, and new Kansas Driver's license. I spoke with an attorney. It will cost roughly $10,000 to fight for partial custody, complicated by the fact that since she is in Kansas now, Kansas may not choose to uphold a Texas court ruling.

Sigh. Burned again by trusting someone to follow their word.

She doesn't want to keep Tristan from me. (Thank god). She just wants to control how and when I see him. It's Trish all over again. Except with Trish, the undercurrent was straight up Bubba-and-Wanda. If I got with Trish, everything would be okay. So, the blackmail back then was I could see Evan if I saw Trish. And I chose not to do that. Not like it would have worked out anyhow.

So, who the hell knows what is in Lauren's head? The girls are very upset with her right now, especially Amy. I had a week planned to pick up Tristan for Labor day and when I called Lauren, she started a fight on the phone, then denied me picking up Tristan at all. The court papers say I get him every other weekend, but when she has taken him 1000 miles away, its a helluva trip to see him for 48 hours. Not to mention she's getting 25% of my net income, and since I dont get child support things are very tight.

She filed bankruptcy soon after I told her I wanted a divorce. Which is hilarious, since a lot of her problems with our marriage all had to do with money, and she refused to look into a bankruptcy while we were together. I paid down her credit cards, sold my Grandfather's 39 Chevy and liquidated everything I could that last year of trying to make it work. And what does she do when we leave? She maxes them all out (on the advice of her lawyer) and then files bankrutpcy. She has the gall to claim everything was my fault. But she's irrational like that. When we went to the marriage counselor (which she insisted upon, and found a woman she liked because she thought that woman would see things her way) she got in a fight with the counselor on the second session. It's funny now, I look back and that entire session was just a microcosm of exactly what was wrong with our marriage and why it was NEVER possible for us to be happy together.

I had found the opposite of Andrea, and thought that somehow made it perfect. I thought I could put aside my own ego and love Lauren. And I did for awhile, but her constant attacks boiled away whatever love I had for her. I remember loving her. But there's nothing left now. And everytime she tries to make things hard for me, it makes me hate her a little more.

I still have a soft spot for Andrea, some nights, but its more of a wanting what you cant have than it is any real love. I wish she'd get her shit together, for the sake of the girls, but that ain't happening. She married an Army guy one year ago and after that she's managed to go thru one stripper and two other Army guys (from the same base, good lord) in that year. Yeah, her-getting-her-shit-together is about as close to an impossibility as Jesus coming back in 2012.

I am dating a tiny bit now, but its a chore. The girls take most of my time and I have little extra cashola, so its just here and there. Mainly on dates with women I've known for years and who always seem to re-appear here and there over time. I guess that they can tell I'm not needing a serious relationship because it will go alright for a while, then I guess they move on because I'm just not into them, or whatever.

I think I helped save a friend's life recently. I hope he's alright. I suspect he is. I expect great things from him, if he can find his own salvation. For what it's worth, I found mine.

So, I'm drifting thru this life, pretty as you please

Nothing ever seems to make sense when I try to make sense of it. But when I let go of trying to control it all, it all makes perfect sense

go figure

I'm in love with love, and lost with lust, and screwed when trying to screw

the only time things work out is when I dont know what to do..

everything has an odd way of working itself out, in the end.

the times that i think i should break are the moments when I find myself in a bend

Back in the day, It was all about not yielding. And now I know nothing's more vital than a friend

Drunken bs NOT aside, i'd like to invite you on this ship for a new journey dawning...

Scottie Kirk

Scottie Kirk. RIP Ma.

Connigh ort

When you think you have nothing more to give

When you think you have nothing left

you half-ass want nothing more. You want it to be over, on some level

but you know it aint.

and everyone around you is quitting, in every fucking way, in every fuckng manner

and you hear the whispers in your ear - "lay down. rest. give up. give in. give it away."

and you just want peace. The peace of nothing. the peace of the grave. the glorious techni-fucking-color end to hang your hat on

And you lie down, in the dirt.
and you look up one last time, and say fuck it, fuck this, fuck everything.

....

and then you get pissed off at yourself, for finding that last little bit of you, that even YOU didnt know was there. And you pull yourself up, by your last little bit of will. And you dust yourself off

And you laugh at the bullshit of it all.

You can't quit. because you are addicted to the hell and the pain of it all.

Peace is for pussies.

Today's message

HALLUCINATE RESPONSIBLY

Creations taking new forms

My blogger friend Busker has been visiting the actual House of the Rising sons heah in Texas, and in comparing our artistry, we decided to collaborate to create a song or two, (and maybe, hopefully more).

He picked thru some of my writing and poetry, and liked the one that follows below, "The Toast". It's a very personal piece, and one that he has a lot of empathy with these days. He's written the piano music for it, as well as worked out the vocal stylings. I'll get the song posted as soon as he gets it recorded.

The Toast

Roomful of faces again, looking to me, their eternal host,
I raise my glass, look past their emptiness and utter this toast-

How did I know that this could be my fate?
How can I hate something I never could appreciate?
Riddles of Life-Love-Lust, of Demons and Drink,
And I only smile the widest as I stumble at the brink...

A drunken marionette, chaos unwound with the face of a clown
Laughing at the Creator while coveting his crown,
I curse it all and refuse to believe in Him on his throne,
for if there really is a heaven- then I'll be eternally Alone.

So, Pour me another, to drown this fool's sorrows
Here's to you, and no more tomorrows.

Kirk
1/31/2004

Trust a woman,..

Trust a woman....

...to be a woman.

Let love rule. Love people for who they are, not who you wish they were.

Enjoy the things that you love about a person. Discard and disregard those things you dislike. If the things you enjoy about them don't outweigh the things that irritate you, then let that person go.

Winning is losing is winning.

The best way to win with a woman is when they don't even realize you have won. In fact, the best possible outcome in a man-woman conflict is when they go away thinking that they have one-upped you, no matter what the reality ended up being.

A bad outcome is when you have come out on top, and they know you have. Because then their vengeful streak may come out and they will have to do something, no matter how subtle, to undercut your "victory." A lot of times you will never become aware of the "equalizer" that they will employ in these situations, And then, you lose, because you thought it was over. Alas, it's never over-until they believe they are ahead.

The worst possible outcome is when you win, and they know you have won. And then, for some completely stupid macho man reason, you make them acknowledge that you have won. This is the surest road to ruin.

The bricks that build nothing

I'm fucking pissed off

I've been forced to see that harpy ex-wife of mine

on Bubba's fb- All i wanted to do is wish him well on the birth of his new son

but there is that cunt- jibber-jabbering about this and that

Why the fuck is my ex-wife his friend any-fucking-way? i've fucked his ex-wife, and i didnt feel the need to friend that piece of shit.

So, Bubba has propagated again. Now he has a little boy with his new woman, who is still married to the guy Bubba snuck up and fucked her behind whose back.

Well, I hope he takes the effort to be around this one. He sure as shit abandoned his girls

Fucking scumbag cunts. I gave him the benefit of the doubt for too long.

The more i think about it, the more pissed I get. Its as if I friended Wanda and let her make dumbshit comments.

The truth is, Bubba IS Andrea. They are both worthless attention whore fucks. Fuck them both.

I am ashamed of all the moments of my life that I wasted taking care of both of those fucking losers

Blast from the past = found some old drunken writing from 2007 : Enjoy

Eleven thirty thoughts

Late enough that I have mellowed, but not so late that I’ve started to get silly.
Got the mp3 changer blaring,,, each song takes me with it- moving my emotions and state of mind according to the whims of the computer’s semi-random shufflin…

Summertime… by Janis… been awhile since I’ve heard this. Fuck Cobain. Joplin had more pain in two notes than that little spoiled garage band bitch had in his whole repertoire. Ah, that’s not nice. Cobain’s sposed to be my hero.

Hero. A fucking junkie who kills himself. Why is that cool? Cause he was famous and rich that’s why. Any poor white trash like myself can blow my head off. But he had money and fame and still offed hisself. For a bad tummy ache and a bad tooth. Some say.

Ah fame. Pretty much any moron will worship you if you are ahead of the average fuckhead. I would analyze this further- double pause – if I truly gave a shit.

Apparently I don’t. Sorry, Kurt. Enjoy the afterparty.

It’s hard to hold a coherent thought when the next song that pops up is Rick fuckn Springfield. Ah, Sweet 80’s pimphood. That fucker cant even get a date now. I’m sure he wishes he had Jessie’s girl right now. He’d probably settle for Jessie’s mom at this juncture…

Wow. Back when Snapping was a legitimate musical accessory. Good god, this cures any pining for the 80s I might have been secretly holding.

And… It’s over. Praise Allah, Yahweh, and 3 other random semi Jew deities…
Beer me. Why thank you, sir.

… okay a country song came up- yes, I know what you are thinking- Kirk listens to country?! Listen up fuckasses. I was born in a trailer park in West Texas. What the hell do ya expect? It’s Sawyer Brown. Could be worse. I like this damn song. "I’ve been in your shoes." Ah, Sawyre Brown, the Rascal Flats of 1991. Yee- (Deep introspective pause) Haw.

And holy fuck, Sawyer Brown just achieved a higher plane of existence,,, The next song is Johnny Horton’s Battle of New Orleans.. When the hell did I download THAT? Holy 3rd grade flashback. "Yeah they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles where the rabbits couldn’t go."

Almost intellectual compared to Toby Keith. Ah, Rock and Roll rears its bestial head, Bout time (for another beer) . Theory of a dead man. Not too bad, Tad bit contrived, but what white boy rock ISNT?

Be back in a cool minute. Just for posterity’s sake- I bought Crossed Keys last bottle of Arrogant Bastard Ale after work today, plus a 30 of Bud, because I was in the mood to get nasty drunk. That was four hours ago. Damn you tolerance level, damn you to hell.

Did I mention I pissed my gf off? Of course not. Trying not to think about it. Meanwhile, the planet keeps turning… Ah, Excellent version of "Dear God" just played. I don’t know where I got that either. I thank it was Maclachlan but I am not sure. Made we want to hear some Slayer covers I have sung by Tori Amos (Really) but I cant find the damn things. I have way too much shit downloaded. I probably should stop relying on the "Chaos theory" to sort my mp3 collection instantaneously…

I have the Cardigans doing "Mr.Crowley" here somewhere. Or maybe they are on the other computer… Fuck. Pros and cons to living by the seat of my pants, babee.

Damn. I know I will lose all respect from the Hoyty toyty tech intellectual feminists who read my blog but in sake of full disclosure, I must admit, Limp Bizkit just played. Hey , it was an accident, really. God fucks with me like that, I swear.

Roger Alan Wade is playing now. Nuff said about that. We will skip the song title on this one to avoid a full boycott.

"She ain’t too cheap, lord, but she’s the best that I;ve had" Leviticus 3:12

Shit,starting to wind down. I havent reverted to typo city quite yet. But feeling the buzz, This little experiment in drunken music criticism may be drawing to a close.

Bluest eyes in Texas are haunting me tonight. Don’t they always?

Last minute regrets

It's times like this, when I could be thinking of anything, and i only have one thing in my mind, that I realize it was love.

... and, what? you can lurk or you can live. What will we all do, in the end?

to fill the emptiness

Your life is filled with what you decide to fill it with. If your life is empty, that is because you don't have anything with which you wish to fill it. I have moments that are not only empty, but ones where i want to remove the things i've already filled it with.

That, is a depressing thing- wanting to empty your life on purpose, because you have decided that those things you thought had substance, were all illusions

and, maybe they are, but most likely they arent- but you are filled with such a self-hate that you want that emptiness.

You want some kind of "do-over" but you can't get it- no matter how much you empty yourself. You can't unlive your life. You have to deal with it.

Being a man isnt so much glorying in your deeds- Its owning your MISdeeds. And going forward. As much as you'd like to cast away your mistakes, they are very much a part of you. And, how much of a man you truly are- is determined by how you deal with your own foolishness of the past.

OWN IT.

Turn and stand up to it.

You will never be able to run fast enough or far enough to forget your own sins.

Internal Rage

My last text to Andrea, tonight: You lost everything that mattered: Not me, the girls. I hope you can get high enough to make up for it.

I don''t know if my life is a godsend or a curse.

The three main loves of my life all have boyfriends.

I'll try and let that sink in...

I'm the perpetual "other" guy. I'm the one they love to get attention and affection from. I'm the one they tell me = they "Could" love

but ... but.. but...

lots of buts.

I'm the guy they fall back on. I'm the one they turn to, when their man isnt there. I'm the one they don't trust. I'm the one they "Want" to love.

I'm a fucking joke

a punchline

once I was IT, now i'm just second string lover for a string of women who want more from their own men, but are too afraid to ask too much.

i get that.

i understand. Hell, i even sympathize,

i love them all, I want to be the guy that gives them what their man doesnt.

But the truth is, I'm only good with the passion, the sex, the MOMENT.

and they Want all that= AND the daily committment, the surrender that accompanies the relationship

So there they are, all those fools who are willing to give it up

and here i am, the fool who will give everything- except - that.

and so, they take their man's surrender, and they collect him, to own. And when they find him wanting, they seek out me= and while they use me to fill the gaps, they tell me all things they want , knowing i cant give them

but still they take what they can.

and they blame me, for not giving enough, for not being their everything.

They cant blame their man- he wouldnt handle such criticism. But they always feel they can heap it on me, the Other man. They always assume I dont care, dont want, dont desire.

They are always so wrapped up in their own emotions and desires that they never think to consider that even the Other man, may want something other than to be their toy.

The Tao Of Tigger

Damn it all, I hate to admit it, but I miss them already.

I also hate to admit, that without my kids around, I really don't have much of a life.

Oh, well. Better to be bored than in another fucked up relationship. Everytime I feel like I need a woman in my life, I just go to Jesse's house. After 15 minutes of watching his wife run his ass around in circles and watch him justify her bullshit, I'm ready to file for divorce AGAIN lol.

Poor guy. Jesus, its almost abuse. But I guess to him it's better than nothing.

Thank you, but I'll have a doubleshot of nothing.

I'm going to drink a beer and go play video games now. And maybe watch some (gasp!) porn (oh noes!)

What's that sound I hear? Oh yes, its absolutely fucking NOTHING.

Ahhh....

so nice

Fighting for my unbelief

New conclusion: Skewering them for their belief alone is never as productive or as effective as the following alternative method-

Skewer them on how shoddy their belief is, and on how poorly they themselves follow their own faith. If this is, indeed, their ultimate faith, how can they take it so much less seriously than we, the unbelievers, do?

Pointing out that their entire religious views make no sense only armors them for a battle for righteousness. Instead, point out how hypocritical they are in claiming such ultimate righteousness for their faith, and condemning the rest of the world to hell, when they treat their own faith more like a half-assed advertising campaign than by the rules that they claim lead you to everlasting torment or eternal bliss.

I mean, if I believed in that simple tenet, that all Christians (that I've ever met) seem to believe in- I would tread my life's path a little more carefully than they do.

I don't know "the truth". I don't claim to know That. But I can call Bullshit when I see it. And I will continue to do so.

The antipeace of conformity

Let me go
let me go
let me GO

lost in a world where I have no control

Sick kid, coughing all night
whisper comforts, hold him tight

powerless, in a position of surrender
once a thousand paths, now a hopeless dead-ender

Let me run
let me run
let me RUN

lost in a cage where there's no escape

I start to leave, then I feel their need
my heart is empty, theirs have yet to bleed

So i spin in place, grind my gears
Forfeit my desires and forget that thing-fear

Let me die
let me die
let me DIE

found in a place with only one door

I let my wounds pour, til unwillingly they clot
Nail myself to this place, hope for death as i rot

Left foot, right foot, taking steps to conform
the calm is about me, in this eye of the storm

Twisting Relationships

A good friend is a thousand times more irreplaceable than a good lover.

There are days when the love you bear a good friend stretches into the possiblity of, or the realm of- romantic love and passionate love.

I find myself fearful of possibilities like this. There is too much to lose when you cross that line. And you almost never can get back to that point once the line is crossed- you experience that level of relationship, and it doesnt work out, and then you struggle to get back to the purity of the friendship- where you were before.

I want my next lover - if there ever is one- to be my friend too. But I value my best friends too highly to corrupt that perfect relationship with the chaos of Love, the greed of Lust, and the insecurity of uneven hearts.

Looking for someone to blame

I wish I just had one person that I could blame this broken heart on.

Whiskey morning conclusions

"I'm afraid I am destined for tragedy..."

"Why do you say that?"

...

"Because I wouldn't have it any other way..."

mystery lover theatre

the first time was the best... Pinot Grigio, this album, that I'd never heard, playing, at your insistence. I remember you telling me things I'll never repeat - but that i'll never forget. You beneath me. Me stopping- scared by the look of incredulous shock in your wide eyes. Neither of us believing in the power of the moment- Marukka den es mort, and how I lied, to protect you, to protect myself-

and we danced away; from each other, from those perfect moments that we both knew could never be recreated. I want you to know I think of you, and that moment- and how much that moment changed me, forever. And you are minutes away, and yet ...millions of miles away. And I know, i'll never reach out, and you never will either. So all i can hope is that some days you revisit that moment in your head, and share it with me again.

Love is always best tempered with memory.

Sacred, part 1

Each man decides what is sacred, inviolate, to himself.

I have seen many things. I have done many things. I know what is sacred to me. Of this, I have no doubts.

I have choked down the father who once beat me, who I once watched beat my mother, as a powerless child. I have looked him in the eyes, shown him mercy, hate, compassion and even love. And walked away from the shell that he was.

I have raised children, lost children, prayed for their forgiveness and railed against them in self righteous anger. I have loved them all and know that my only hope of redemption in their eyes lies in their eyes and hearts alone.

I have closed the eyes of my mother on her deathbed, while others wept around me.

I have raised my fists in useless anger, I have struck in the defense of others, I have wounded the helpless when I had no need to.

I have loved of women, and lost. I have been loved and have forsaken love freely given.

I have doubted, so much I have doubted. And I have believed.

And, I believe now. I know in my heart what is sacred to me. I know what blasphemies are hollow and what transgressions I would never dare, lest I truly doom myself - to myself.

Each man a temple, and in his heart beats a man's own religion. Some may doubt anew. I have doubts no more. I know my own heart, and that is the grail, the reason, the meaning I have always searched for. Knowing it is what is the most sacred belief of all.

Woke up foggy- peel back the curtain of life to an empty street and wonder at it all. Breathe in the dreaming: Is it real, is it bad, does it matter? Tristan hears me stirring, and stirs in turn- "Daddy?" It's a question and an order all in one. I go to his bed and bid him good morning. Satisfied that he has touched base with HIS reality, he returns to his dream. And mine- wisps away


prologue this was good enough to write down in one of my journals (skeleton) . I elaborated a tiny bit there. I wonder if I should here. But, naw, I'll let it stand alone. Tristan's up now. I'm cooking sausage, he's bouncing around, eating applesauce and huggin on "My Daddy!" I've got CMT playing in the background (you know I'm feeling sentimental when I'm listening to country music).. I've been loving on the classic alternative channel for weeks now on the music channels on cable. It's - well, hell, its a good damn morning. Beer with breakfast, but hey its a sunday,and it'll be alright. Twist wants to play on the computer, so I;m gonna get off here and let him tear shit up. Enjoy your day, folks. Its the little things..

Thanks to a friend

For Robin- ... some days I find myself in such a hole that i dont even want to claw my way out. Its : keep on for the kids. and thats basically it. You really are my best friend. And days like today- in a hundred subtle ways, I draw strength from your example. I used to be bullet proof and knew it all and didnt give a second thought to a thing so weak-as a second thought. I still dont doubt myself - but I sure do doubt the world around me. And that shit wears on me. There is a saying "There are those who take the heart out of you- but, there are those who put it back." .... There are days I thank god (whatever the hell that concept is, but I thank it ) to have someone like you in my life. I used to be you= I put the life into people. I dont know where the fuck I went wrong. but I lost that. And I hate myself for it. But you renew that sense/ And you make me want to be better than I am now. And I just wanted you to know that.

Determining what you Deserve

Considering what you believe you "Deserve" out of life is self-delusion.

Forgive me for boiling it down to basics, but you get what you earn, not what you deserve. Circumstances and random chance and even luck may affect your fate, may even engineer it, in the end.

But- in the meantime, no matter what chance of birth you had, no matter what foul luck befalls you, no matter who and how rich your daddy was, how crack addled your mother might have been when she begat you- Regardless of all these factors, beyond the stars and fate and god's will= You have but one avenue that will make you deserving of anything better.

And that is how you live your life.

That is the choices you make yourself, the way you guide YOURSELF, after all the other factors out of your control fall to the wayside. You have only your footsteps to follow. And you may have had poor guides in your road. But again, circumstances aside- it is what your wits and your instincts drive you to- It is what your fears keep you from, or save you from. It is your decisions that make you WHO you are, in the end, not your birth, not your environment, not your friends, not your enemies. It is your choices, and where you stand strong, where you bend, where you break, and where you rebuild your self.

It is the eyes you meet, or look away from in that damned mirror.

They can haunt you, or they can fill you with determination. Or both. Or neither.

But it is our actions (and inactions) that determine how we look at ourselves.

No one else's opinion matters. Except for those few individuals in our lives who have Earned our full respect. However impropable it was for them to do so, in our self absorbtion and self hate and fear of someone who is better than ourselves.

And if you can't even value your own opinion- well. stop now. read no more. For more self-study will only damn you further.

Fearing your life is a failure is not a failure. It is sanity.
Judging yourself harshly is not a sin. It is sainthood.
Meeting that judgement, and meeting your own eyes- and nodding in grudging respect-

is the only godhood you will ever experience.

It's never too late to earn your own respect, (back, even).

You are the only one you have to convince.

For - Me. And for the people I've come to fully respect in this life. There are times they were weak, and I despised them for their weakness. And there are times I thought they were weak, and I realized it was my weakness that built my resentment. I can judge them. But my judgements of others don't mean a fucking thing- just like their judgements of me don't mean anything.

Judge yourself. Or don't judge anything at all.

Surrending Desires

I'm just not the most social person when i am sober.

Drinking lets me pretend that this world is somehow better than it truly is.

When I'm clear all that I see I dont really like. I dont find much joy in this existence. There's my kids. But that is pretty much it. Everyone else is pretty much of a letdown most of the time. I am here for my kids. Thats what I do. I wont quit and I wont fail. But i dont get much joy, if any, anymore.

"In simpler dreams I find a simpler worth" I wrote that line twenty years ago, and it means more to me now than it did even back then. But its so hard releasing all the bullshit and living without desires. I AM my desires. I am fucking and fighting and drinking and dying and LIVING. But to have peace I have to surrender all that. And I just don't know if I can.

I have passion in all the wrong things, and in few of the right ones. And I fear I cannot change that. I have always been a lover of women. When I'm not loving them I am dreaming of loving them. And I never stop dreaming. In the end they fail me, and without fail- I fail them too- in the long run. I don't want one woman, at the end of the day. I dont want that happy ending. I want to fall in love with a girl I am standing behind in the checkout line of the supermarket. I want to meet a stranger's eyes with a long passing glance and lose myself in that millisecond's love and lust. I want to feel my heart jump, and remind me that I'm alive when I see a woman I want to make love to.

I don't want a happy ending- and- huh- how about that? Realizing this, why the hell should I expect one?

Gift of Faith

Faith- is something that I've never held in anything other than myself. And most of the time, that faith is in short supply as well.

I told my devout christian mother that I didn't believe in god when I was eight. I have trouble remembering the events of last week at times, but I remember that day, and that conversation clearly as if it were yesterday. She was driving, around the loop, in our beat-the-hell up car. And we passed a religious sign by the side of the road. And I told her, in my usual matter-of-fact sort of way. "Mom, I can't believe in god anymore." It was can't, not don't. And that's an important difference in my analytical mind.

She was used to my sudden outspoken observations. And there was a long pause as she deliberated the right response... "Why do you say that, son?" And I told her.

The concept may have been affected by the church members who treated my single mother of two who smoked and had left her husband-like dirt. My opinion may have been slanted by the way they talked ill of her in front of me and my brother, as if we couldn't understand their holier-than-thou slander because we were only children. It certainly didn't help my opinion of Christians in general, and as a whole, and they've never proved any better in the following thirty years. But mainly, it just didn't make sense. Not even to an eight year old. The hypocrisy and the stupidity were obvious. The contradictions seemed oh so clear to my steel trap mind. The faith, the spirituality, the yearning for a Father to guide me- it just rang hollow, even to a bastard like myself.

And I explained this all to my mother, who believed with all her heart and soul in Jesus and our lord and my only hope for salvation being in accepting HIM.

And she listened to what I had to say, and she rolled it around it in her head, and she said the only thing she could say- because I got my love of truth from her- even if the truths we came around to understanding were two different things=

"I hate to hear you say that son and I hope you change your mind. But-I respect your opinion and I won't make you go to church if that is the way you feel."

She looked hard at me, with those deepest of eyes, and I remember that smile that was sad and at the same time proud.

And my faith is in myself, because she gave me that gift, with her respect and her acceptance of what I had to say. She never doubted my ability to think for myself. She guided, but she never pushed.

I've studied religion with a fervor bordering on obsession since then, but I've never found a reason to have faith for it any more than I did as an eight year old.

I have wanted to prove myself wrong at times, because my respect for my mother's opinion was as such. But, the gods have never moved me with the spirit, as they say.

But whatever faith I possess, I consider a gift from her- for not doubting in me.

Closure

Closure ? I dont know - we are so different but I do remember how much I loved her

A woman who I was very much in love with long ago- one of my very first relationships- asked me to meet her and some of her friends for drinks.

Her. My ex fiancee. The Evil one.

I had not seen her in over 13 years. It had ended very very badly. We had talked previously... and "buried the hatchet". But I guess she felt the need to see me, for whatever reason, and likewise, I thought of not going, but found I couldnt avoid it. I didn't know what to expect, but I should have. In the end, it wasn't just wanting to see her- it was a palpable need.

It was cathartic for both of us, no telling if moreso for me or for her. It was still strained and her bitterness boiled to the surface more than once- but I didn't reciprocate or retaliate.

She hasnt changed a bit-still a rich, racist republican and very proud of all three of those descriptions. She's still uber-materialistic with a tendency to brag of the countries she's visited and the trinkets and treasures she possesses. She's charismatic, leads every conversation. She's engaging and has a magnetice wit and personality. She made sure I knew she still smoked pot and she's still richer than me, (with a ta-da flourish,even,ha!) She's a tad overweight still, so her worshipping at the altar of the dallas debutante set has its limits when it comes to that. She still has that infectious smile and those dimples that I so loved to kiss. No, she hasn't changed at all and I am scarcely the same person she knew back then.

Talking with her, I remembered and FELT so purely how and why I loved her and also how and why I hated her too. I held both these emotions in my hands as I looked at her- and it was so easy- to just let that hate blow away. Even through some of her more barbed comments, I couldnt take my eyes off her and couldnt respond in kind, the way I usually would. I got more peace from this short night 's conversation than even I could have ever expected or imagined. I dont know what she took away from it all, and I doubt I will ever see her again.

So, closure? Yes.
It may not be happily ever after, but it was a better ending for this story.

(for Angela)

Office Politics

I like my job. I love my job duties. I hate working with these office barracuda bitches. But, as far as effort versus compensation- it's a perfect fit for me and my mindset right now. Could I go further? Sure, if I applied some office politickin' of my own. But I truly don't care for that. More responsibility equals greater pay but also incurs much more time and stress that would bleed over into my personal life.

I have achieved a high level of focus on my family right now- and its taken a good while to get where I am at - on the family front. Some people may not consider that a goal or even something to work towards- but to me, its my true occupation, even if the pay and the hours suck! lol. I work a lot of overtime, and I am driven to succeed and work at a high level (higher than my co-workers, most assuredly). But I don't feel the desire to put in that extra 10% over the 110% I already put in at work. And I sure don't feel the need to compete with the supervisors and the coordinators and the people over me.

That's a self-imposed level of stress I don't need. But i sure wish that those people who do desire that greater level of self-importance and "success" in their chosen occupation would rain less shit upon me in their own miniscule gamemanship to get up that corporate ladder- or even just hang on to the rung they are at.

I just don't give a shit about the daily game of who has usurped whose authority. This job, it pays the bills. Its not who I am, it's not what I am. It's not even really a part of who/what I am. It is a meaningless endeavor to line the pockets of someone else. I am a cog. I dont desire to be a pulley. Its just not that important to me in the grander scheme of things. I am a worker bee. I'm goood with that. To all the Queens of the hive- Let us work in peace once in a while. We don't subscribe to your theory of how the world works- so please, stop selling us that line of shit that is supposed to motivate US in your goal of domination. But I know they can't help themselves. And that's all part of it too.

Buzz. Buzz. back to work.

Dating and" too much sex in a relationship"

Dating again... Got an ultimatum today from a woman I'm casually dating about sex and it made me think-

Point to Ponder for the women out there- If you are worried that the relationship may be TOO sexual: There are far worse things, if you really like the guy.

1- Lead him, but you dont have to LEASH him. Don't talk nonstop about sex if you are wanting to slow down the sexual side of things. We dont run hot and cold, like women do. We respond in kind. So, simmer down a bit. Don't expect the man to plan out elaborate plans for things to do- this is ingrained in us as a courting matter. Take the initiative and plan out things to do that you know we like and that you like too- Make our dates about that- not just us coming over three times a week to watch movies, because we both know where thats headed.

2- Withhold Sex suddenly, out of the blue- at your own risk. We like you. We also like having sex with you. It's part of the deal. We won't get tired of having sex with you (if the sex is good). But EVERY man will get tired of NOT Having sex with you, especially if we sense that it is a form of relationship blackmail. Then you put the focus back on sex by default because we are frustrated.
And - if you DONT enjoy having sex with us, then something is wrong, and this relationship may be doomed, anyway. Enjoy the pleasures that sex gives us both- enjoy the intimacy and explore the things you like-= LEAD us, and we will follow, if we are into you.

3- Remember, if the relationship is new- give it time- have patience to get us used to you, and to the point where we dont want to do without you. If you are that much into us, let it develop. Get to know us, and let us know the REAL you. And go from there.

Wave on wave

It's strange, but I am so happy this morning, I actually want to cry- in joy. There's just a flood of emotion welling up in me.

It's soooo odd for me to be like this.