"Alas, life, it is a hard thing... almost no one gets out of it alive."
It's like nothing I ever imagined.
But it's greater than I ever hoped for.
Push away the little tribulations, the petty pains, ignore the immediacy of the stress filled moment. Take yourself outside and look in. And when you close in on that inner strength, that love- that pure fucking joy that is in your center (against all odds)- blow it up, magnify it and let yourself be absorbed into it.
And let everyone around you know it, share it, be a part of it.
Sometimes this life is too short. Sometimes it feels like it's dragged on way much longer than it ever should have lasted. Don't just live in the moment. Pick and choose which moment you want to live in.
Be that moment forever. Smile bigger, love deeper. The alternative is... well, that really ain't much of an alternative, now, is it?
kirk
Sunday, October 5, 2008
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.
and the world rejoiced.
Live your life
so that when you die,
the world cries and you rejoice.
(Native American birth blessing)
I'm in the hospital. The doctor says it wont be much longer now. Tristan will be born shortly. It's been a strange week, one that has seen the death of my mother and now, the dawn brings the birth of my son. I've got to go, now,
Cry, Rejoice, Repeat.
Kirk
I'm in the hospital. The doctor says it wont be much longer now. Tristan will be born shortly. It's been a strange week, one that has seen the death of my mother and now, the dawn brings the birth of my son. I've got to go, now,
Cry, Rejoice, Repeat.
Kirk
Lauren holds Tristan, in the NICU, for the first time...
The Mom
Mom died this morning.
Bobby called me at 3am. I threw on a shirt and jeans and went to Lubbock.
It was a strange, surreal, yet not altogether bad morning.
I raised the window, pulled the shroud over her head, and whispered "Go with God"...
I said goodbye.
If there IS a heaven, she'll be there.
And if there isn't, well, she was done for this world, and happily so.
Pain, over.
I didn't cry until 12 hours later.
And that was a brief moment of lack of self-control, glorious in its emotional explosion, quickly taken held of, and suppressed.
It was the first time in 10 years that Ryan, Tommy and I were in the same room, laughing and enjoying stories about our childhood. No whys to blame. It was good.
Nobody talked about mom all that much. Everyone remained in a shocked silence, talking about everything but mom...
She was ready.
She went on her own terms.
Would that we all could be so lucky, so predestined.
Mom went out the way she said she would. Fuck. That's a helluva thing. Not many people get that.
I knew she was tough. I just didn't ever realize just how fucking badass she really was.
That white-hot bar of iron at my center is her. I always thought it was dad: mean, invulnerable, fearless.
Now I know.
Dad can't touch this.
THIS is strength. THIS is rebellion. THIS is independence.
THIS was Paula Kirk. This was Paula Berryhill. This was Paula Welch.
This was Sissy.
This was Mom.
She never compromised her principles. To her own detriment at times, yes-
I just THOUGHT that I ruled my own little world. She bent, but never, ever broke.
A lot of people thought she was weak, at first. They thought they would win out in the end.
They were Motherfucking wrong, tho, weren't they?
Jesus fucking Christ, I am so proud of my mother right now.
She never broke. Not once.
Can any of us say the same?
She is my hero. If I die with half the conviction she held, I will be able to respect myself.
I never knew, until just this moment, what fueled my heart.
I should have.
I should have known all along.
I hope she knows that I finally realize it now. I've led a strange, sometimes fucked up life. I'd like to flip you all off and yell fuck you and claim it was all me.
NOW I know.
It was her.
God bless that woman.
09/08
Kirk
The grandkids send their messages to Ma in heaven...
Bobby called me at 3am. I threw on a shirt and jeans and went to Lubbock.
It was a strange, surreal, yet not altogether bad morning.
I raised the window, pulled the shroud over her head, and whispered "Go with God"...
I said goodbye.
If there IS a heaven, she'll be there.
And if there isn't, well, she was done for this world, and happily so.
Pain, over.
I didn't cry until 12 hours later.
And that was a brief moment of lack of self-control, glorious in its emotional explosion, quickly taken held of, and suppressed.
It was the first time in 10 years that Ryan, Tommy and I were in the same room, laughing and enjoying stories about our childhood. No whys to blame. It was good.
Nobody talked about mom all that much. Everyone remained in a shocked silence, talking about everything but mom...
She was ready.
She went on her own terms.
Would that we all could be so lucky, so predestined.
Mom went out the way she said she would. Fuck. That's a helluva thing. Not many people get that.
I knew she was tough. I just didn't ever realize just how fucking badass she really was.
That white-hot bar of iron at my center is her. I always thought it was dad: mean, invulnerable, fearless.
Now I know.
Dad can't touch this.
THIS is strength. THIS is rebellion. THIS is independence.
THIS was Paula Kirk. This was Paula Berryhill. This was Paula Welch.
This was Sissy.
This was Mom.
She never compromised her principles. To her own detriment at times, yes-
I just THOUGHT that I ruled my own little world. She bent, but never, ever broke.
A lot of people thought she was weak, at first. They thought they would win out in the end.
They were Motherfucking wrong, tho, weren't they?
Jesus fucking Christ, I am so proud of my mother right now.
She never broke. Not once.
Can any of us say the same?
She is my hero. If I die with half the conviction she held, I will be able to respect myself.
I never knew, until just this moment, what fueled my heart.
I should have.
I should have known all along.
I hope she knows that I finally realize it now. I've led a strange, sometimes fucked up life. I'd like to flip you all off and yell fuck you and claim it was all me.
NOW I know.
It was her.
God bless that woman.
09/08
Kirk
The grandkids send their messages to Ma in heaven...
The Devil that is me
Aug. 1 2008
It’s 2:58 am on a Thursday night. Drinking Natural light in bottles and listening to 70s music.. Nostalgia is my life. What can I say? I used to be on top of all the newest shit. I guess that’s the first sign of getting old- when you hate everything that – is – new.
Heh.
The first step is always- ALWAYS- understanding what the fuck you’re up to .. even when you don’t really want to know…
Trying hard not to make too many typos. Drunk as fuck,,. Well NOT THAT drunk, but at that cloud nine floating araround the room kinda vibe
As inebriated as I let myself get anymore
THAT’S getting old- Ah,well, its also Wisdom in action. Don’t have to work tomorrow. But I ‘ll probably go in and get some overtime anyway.Working at Oxy Petroleum rightn now. Yes, I am serving that most devilish of deamons, BIG OIL>
Gotta feed the familiy. I am being courted by the Ethanol plant as we speak. Trying to get on as HR Director. More money, more freedom.
Anyway, been quiet lately. Or at least my soul has stopped howling at the moon for the nonce. My woman – is – MY WOMAN. She’s the epitome of a good woman. Never had better. And for once, I am worrying less about my whims and more about peace. The old chaos still bangs around in my heart, but I can control it now. I have been such an adrenaline/attentinon junkie all my life. Had to have a new woman every 15 mnutes. I stopped feeding my ego. Let that bitch starv… FINALLY.
I always put my kids before myself. But until Lauren I never put the woman in my life remotely close to anything close to a priority. She earned it. She has proven herself a hundred times over, despite the obstacles I put in her way.
She’s a fucking saint, she is. And every damn day I wonder how I will make it through to the next day without fucking it all up. Somedays that old chaos rises up fiercely and tries hard to do everything it/I can to run her off.
Sometimes I tell myself that she will never know the real me- the cutthroat, mean. Scarred halflife that I was/am. But sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I see her looking at me, and I realize she KNOWS. And she loves me so much, that she will do all she can- not to break me, but to break through to me. And that is the most beautiful thing about her. I can’t tell her that. My pride won’t allow it. Maybe she’ll find this someday and know that I knew How much she sacrificed to be the love of all loves that tried to fix this broken heart…
I’ve had more than my share of devils in my bed. I don’t know how to treat the Angel that has come down from Heaven to rescue me. But… I’m trying as hard as I can to defeat the devil that is me.
He’s a hard-headed prick, that’s for certain.
It’s 2:58 am on a Thursday night. Drinking Natural light in bottles and listening to 70s music.. Nostalgia is my life. What can I say? I used to be on top of all the newest shit. I guess that’s the first sign of getting old- when you hate everything that – is – new.
Heh.
The first step is always- ALWAYS- understanding what the fuck you’re up to .. even when you don’t really want to know…
Trying hard not to make too many typos. Drunk as fuck,,. Well NOT THAT drunk, but at that cloud nine floating araround the room kinda vibe
As inebriated as I let myself get anymore
THAT’S getting old- Ah,well, its also Wisdom in action. Don’t have to work tomorrow. But I ‘ll probably go in and get some overtime anyway.Working at Oxy Petroleum rightn now. Yes, I am serving that most devilish of deamons, BIG OIL>
Gotta feed the familiy. I am being courted by the Ethanol plant as we speak. Trying to get on as HR Director. More money, more freedom.
Anyway, been quiet lately. Or at least my soul has stopped howling at the moon for the nonce. My woman – is – MY WOMAN. She’s the epitome of a good woman. Never had better. And for once, I am worrying less about my whims and more about peace. The old chaos still bangs around in my heart, but I can control it now. I have been such an adrenaline/attentinon junkie all my life. Had to have a new woman every 15 mnutes. I stopped feeding my ego. Let that bitch starv… FINALLY.
I always put my kids before myself. But until Lauren I never put the woman in my life remotely close to anything close to a priority. She earned it. She has proven herself a hundred times over, despite the obstacles I put in her way.
She’s a fucking saint, she is. And every damn day I wonder how I will make it through to the next day without fucking it all up. Somedays that old chaos rises up fiercely and tries hard to do everything it/I can to run her off.
Sometimes I tell myself that she will never know the real me- the cutthroat, mean. Scarred halflife that I was/am. But sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I see her looking at me, and I realize she KNOWS. And she loves me so much, that she will do all she can- not to break me, but to break through to me. And that is the most beautiful thing about her. I can’t tell her that. My pride won’t allow it. Maybe she’ll find this someday and know that I knew How much she sacrificed to be the love of all loves that tried to fix this broken heart…
I’ve had more than my share of devils in my bed. I don’t know how to treat the Angel that has come down from Heaven to rescue me. But… I’m trying as hard as I can to defeat the devil that is me.
He’s a hard-headed prick, that’s for certain.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
the person staring back
She’ll tell you she’s an orphan…
.. after you meet her family
Mom’s still dying
I’m still drinking.
I’ve put myself on hold-
Like no other time in my life
Doing what I'm supposed to.
Working, earning a livin, for the family and me.
Good Husband, Good Dad, Walking that line, boy, the way I was told….
Dreams, nowadays, are just that…
stuff that occurs in the middle of a deep sleep. Wake up, shake ‘em off and move on.
No time for that shit. I’ve wasted more than enough of my life on that crap, right?
….
I don’t know. This life, without those beautiful fantasies, sure wouldn’t mean as much, would it?
And hell, didn’t some of those dreams come true? I ain’t dead and I ain’t in jail. That’s more than some people dreamed for my future.
Fuck, I don’t know. I can still look at myself in the mirror. And I’ve always been the harshest judge I’ve ever met.
Life ain’t as exciting as it was, a few years back. But I’ve come a long way (baby). No more bar fights. No more living a deathwish for shits and giggles. No more changing the woman I’m with every six weeks, whether I want to or not.
Stability-
-Is not something I’m real familiar with, nor something I ever wanted to be on a first name basis with in the first place. I’ve always worshipped the chaos. I always lived by the seat of my pants and loved it that way.
I’ve ALWAYS had a plan. And I’ve ALWAYS had a way to fuck it up on purpose, everytime I got bored or decided that my plan was bullshit.
Too late I realize that all those plans weren’t bad. Any one of them would’ve worked out. I can’t say (can anyone>?) if they would have netted me a greater sum of existence than my current incarnation…
I’ve had fun. Hope you have, too. Its been a helluva ride on this end. AND AT the end of THIS tunnel- I've ended up with a thousand halfassed misgivings, a couple million second-guesses, and well, NOT one real regret at the end of the day.
If you think I’m full of shit, well, you’d be wrong/ I’m a dick that way, I’m not conceited, I iz convinced. I have failed at more things than most people ever attempt. But I do believe I’ve accomplished the important things-
I am the Dad I never had.
That was goal one, a promise I made to myself in the closet of my bedroom as a 10 year old boy. I never wavered. As big of an asshole I have made of myself, I’ve never been anything but a really damn good Daddy. And if that was the end of the list, I’d be happy;
And, dwelling upon that, I realize- that is Good enough. I could try and impress you with other, myriad details of the things I’ve strived for in this life…
But I realize- there’s only really two things I’ve ever given a good-god-damn about. One was being a good dad. And the other- well, its not important anymore.; Suffice it to say I met my goals.
I may not be much, but I am a man of my word. I am a simple fucker with complex shades. I am my mother’s son. I am dark, I am light. But I am never just black and white.
I am a man who can look in the mirror, study my failures AND my victories, and smile at both.
There’s no heaven. There’s no hell. There’s just you and that mirror at the end of the day. You can flinch from it, or you can be the person you always wanted to be.
The only person stopping you is yourself.
Christopher Kirk Berryhill
9/08 Bumfuck, Texas
.. after you meet her family
Mom’s still dying
I’m still drinking.
I’ve put myself on hold-
Like no other time in my life
Doing what I'm supposed to.
Working, earning a livin, for the family and me.
Good Husband, Good Dad, Walking that line, boy, the way I was told….
Dreams, nowadays, are just that…
stuff that occurs in the middle of a deep sleep. Wake up, shake ‘em off and move on.
No time for that shit. I’ve wasted more than enough of my life on that crap, right?
….
I don’t know. This life, without those beautiful fantasies, sure wouldn’t mean as much, would it?
And hell, didn’t some of those dreams come true? I ain’t dead and I ain’t in jail. That’s more than some people dreamed for my future.
Fuck, I don’t know. I can still look at myself in the mirror. And I’ve always been the harshest judge I’ve ever met.
Life ain’t as exciting as it was, a few years back. But I’ve come a long way (baby). No more bar fights. No more living a deathwish for shits and giggles. No more changing the woman I’m with every six weeks, whether I want to or not.
Stability-
-Is not something I’m real familiar with, nor something I ever wanted to be on a first name basis with in the first place. I’ve always worshipped the chaos. I always lived by the seat of my pants and loved it that way.
I’ve ALWAYS had a plan. And I’ve ALWAYS had a way to fuck it up on purpose, everytime I got bored or decided that my plan was bullshit.
Too late I realize that all those plans weren’t bad. Any one of them would’ve worked out. I can’t say (can anyone>?) if they would have netted me a greater sum of existence than my current incarnation…
I’ve had fun. Hope you have, too. Its been a helluva ride on this end. AND AT the end of THIS tunnel- I've ended up with a thousand halfassed misgivings, a couple million second-guesses, and well, NOT one real regret at the end of the day.
If you think I’m full of shit, well, you’d be wrong/ I’m a dick that way, I’m not conceited, I iz convinced. I have failed at more things than most people ever attempt. But I do believe I’ve accomplished the important things-
I am the Dad I never had.
That was goal one, a promise I made to myself in the closet of my bedroom as a 10 year old boy. I never wavered. As big of an asshole I have made of myself, I’ve never been anything but a really damn good Daddy. And if that was the end of the list, I’d be happy;
And, dwelling upon that, I realize- that is Good enough. I could try and impress you with other, myriad details of the things I’ve strived for in this life…
But I realize- there’s only really two things I’ve ever given a good-god-damn about. One was being a good dad. And the other- well, its not important anymore.; Suffice it to say I met my goals.
I may not be much, but I am a man of my word. I am a simple fucker with complex shades. I am my mother’s son. I am dark, I am light. But I am never just black and white.
I am a man who can look in the mirror, study my failures AND my victories, and smile at both.
There’s no heaven. There’s no hell. There’s just you and that mirror at the end of the day. You can flinch from it, or you can be the person you always wanted to be.
The only person stopping you is yourself.
Christopher Kirk Berryhill
9/08 Bumfuck, Texas
Monday, July 14, 2008
Prayer
Daughter, crying herself to sleep, again
empty voicemail messages to her missing mother
Andrea's singing plays in the background as they struggle into dreams,
Dreams that I hope will turn out good.
Rage turns to disgust and then to emptiness.
I stroke her hair softly and Lauren holds her hand as her body shudders in tears. Nothing can replace a parent who disappears without explaining why to their children.
I can see the scars on my daughters heart, forming and reforming. I try to stop them, but I can't.Someone else might not understand.
I do.
Got my own scarred heart to prove it.
I'd do anything to prevent it happening to my daughters. My wife would too.
Their mom is.... broken.
And everytime she gets close to repairing herself, she throws herself back off a new cliff to shatter herself anew.
Everyone's got a hobby. Hers is seeing just how close to self-destruction she can get without ever going over the edge completely. Of course, meanwhile, this involves lots of drugs, angst, and self-absorbtion.
I'd kill the bitch myself if I thought it would help.
It wouldn't.
But it would sure be nice to visit some form of retribution on the person who causes my children- HER CHILDREN- a constant stream of pain.
Times like this bring a man to prayer-
I have lots of prayers. Some humble, some hopeful.
Never vain, never selfish. I've got NO belief in a god that aids the shallow.
And I've not much more faith in any prayer of hope.
I've got a prayer of wrath, though. Only a fool would desire it.
But when you hurt someone's children, the deep, torturous way that she has, it does something awful to a person's soul.
So, my one prayer, the one I don't believe in but desperately desire -
is this-
I pray for hell.
I pray for a hell to exist-
a Hell that WILL give some Old testament justice to the parents who abandon their children.
If hell exists, believe me, I'll burn as well, I'm sure - for a thousand simple travesties and a million outright sins. I'd take my eternal damnation in a minute, though- just to know Andrea would be there too- burning for what she did to our kids.
I have lots of prayers. Some humble, some hopeful.
But seeing those tears in Amy's eyes when she cries for her mother- there's only one prayer in my bible.
All she has to do is make one call to a little girl. But, as with most of the world's miserable bastards, even the simplest gesture is too much
empty voicemail messages to her missing mother
Andrea's singing plays in the background as they struggle into dreams,
Dreams that I hope will turn out good.
Rage turns to disgust and then to emptiness.
I stroke her hair softly and Lauren holds her hand as her body shudders in tears. Nothing can replace a parent who disappears without explaining why to their children.
I can see the scars on my daughters heart, forming and reforming. I try to stop them, but I can't.Someone else might not understand.
I do.
Got my own scarred heart to prove it.
I'd do anything to prevent it happening to my daughters. My wife would too.
Their mom is.... broken.
And everytime she gets close to repairing herself, she throws herself back off a new cliff to shatter herself anew.
Everyone's got a hobby. Hers is seeing just how close to self-destruction she can get without ever going over the edge completely. Of course, meanwhile, this involves lots of drugs, angst, and self-absorbtion.
I'd kill the bitch myself if I thought it would help.
It wouldn't.
But it would sure be nice to visit some form of retribution on the person who causes my children- HER CHILDREN- a constant stream of pain.
Times like this bring a man to prayer-
I have lots of prayers. Some humble, some hopeful.
Never vain, never selfish. I've got NO belief in a god that aids the shallow.
And I've not much more faith in any prayer of hope.
I've got a prayer of wrath, though. Only a fool would desire it.
But when you hurt someone's children, the deep, torturous way that she has, it does something awful to a person's soul.
So, my one prayer, the one I don't believe in but desperately desire -
is this-
I pray for hell.
I pray for a hell to exist-
a Hell that WILL give some Old testament justice to the parents who abandon their children.
If hell exists, believe me, I'll burn as well, I'm sure - for a thousand simple travesties and a million outright sins. I'd take my eternal damnation in a minute, though- just to know Andrea would be there too- burning for what she did to our kids.
I have lots of prayers. Some humble, some hopeful.
But seeing those tears in Amy's eyes when she cries for her mother- there's only one prayer in my bible.
All she has to do is make one call to a little girl. But, as with most of the world's miserable bastards, even the simplest gesture is too much
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