What-Dad-Wasn't

Aint that a bitch...named...

I fight it, and I fight it - with this rebel-born heart of mine,

I don't even understand it myself, I;ve been in love lots of times.

Before Her, After Her...

I've forgotten her , only to be reminded again and again by this treacherous heart of mine.

I can't chalk her up to some poignant memory.

I can't keep her in the same box as the others

The loves of the rest are as memories. I miss them, in an offhand, senimental way.

She is different. I tried to find her on FB tonight, to tell her how much she made my heart ache-

Goddamn it all. I actually love that bitch.

More than i love myself.

Jesus fucking christ- what a curse

The Righteousness of Illusion

What is it that makes me keep going?

Fear? Boredom? Hope? Love? Sloth?

I don't fear death, but I don't choose it. I want the eternal peace of escape, but not enough to do anything to hasten it's arrival.

It's not boredom that keeps anything happening, if anything, that's my worst enemy- my inability to be sated, to be entertained completely by anything in my life.

Hope- That's possible. That i am waiting around for an affirmation of .... something-anything. I hope for answers, for conclusions, that I am afraid I already may be aware of.

Love? Yeah, thats not it.

Sloth- Most likely. Treading water in this thing called life.

The answer is Illusion. It is our illusions that keep us going. It is our grand misconceptions and our capacity to want to believe in something- ANYTHING. We grab hold of whatever illusion makes the most sense at any given time, and cling to it like fingers digging into a cliff's edge. And we fall, over and over- whenever we let go of the illusion. And, sometimes it's bad. And sometimes, its actually good. But most of the time we find, that letting go didn't matter much. We can make excuses and explanations all day long for the perceived shortcomings of our lives- both perceived by others and perceived by ourselves. And we can invent solutions too.

Most of those solutions involve more illusions- and clinging even harder to them.

Sometimes you hit an epiphany were you shatter one illusion, and come to the realization that its opposite should have been your goal all along.

and, you can jump down that path, full of righteousness and remorse-

But it's still just one more illusion.

The Clarity of self deception

Hate gives way to exhaustion... And exhaustion brings unexpected peace..  bliss even.

It takes energy to hate. And when you've boiled away all the angst, when the all-fiery passion cools, you are left with the resignation of thought.

And, in those moments, the only energy you end up expending is Truth, of a sort.

I ended it with my "lover" - if thats what you can call it. Really, i cant. And i'm pretty sure thats not how she'd describe me. Not if she was being honest.

Attention Deficit Disorder Deviants.

Indulging whims, sacrificing sanctity for a moment's self absorbtion

Sinning for the sake of sinning

Anyway, I told her today that i was tired of her brand of poison

I cannot tell you if she heard me at all

Maybe she'll notice when i dont return her calls.

Maybe, she won't.

Maybe neither of us give a damn, nor did we ever.

Ah, Love. When you hate yourself, you can put up with so MUCH>

Evolution of the Host
by Robert Pinsky

The primate that for a time rose to dominate that planet
Communicated with its peers using a code of grunts
Exhaled from the orifice of ingestion and shaped
By lips and inner membranes, muscles and teeth.
The creature communicated also with its descendants,
With memorized patterns of those same brute sounds made
Eloquent and urgent as the dance of a worker bee
Miming the precise distance and bearings of sustenance.
In the language of sustenance and honey, host and guest

Are two pronunciations of a single word: primeval guttural
Khoust: meaning sacred obligations and ceremonies between
A stranger who accepts bread and a stranger who gives it.
Or before the sacred obligations and ceremonies, the host
Was the enemy, the khoust of savages, barbarians, gentiles
Arrayed for battle against me. O Lord break their jaws kill
Their spawn. My enemy rises from the dead as a ghost:
The ghastly third, the other, the khoust intervening between
My hunger and the transforming sweet breast of the world.

Guns dont make men

Jesse Gonzalez: this is more of that hippie bull shit. fuck jim carrey he can take his ass back to canada.

Kirk Berryhill: Jesse, he's got a point. Its those Fucking gun nuts. If it wasn't for Lanza's nutbag mama who was a survivalist and warped her son's mind with her anti-government bullshit, those kids might be alive. All those idiots stockpiling assault weapons in their 8X8 bunkers like the vietnam vet who shot the school bus driver and kidnapped the five year old ARE THE PROBLEM. More guns for these pussies aint the solution. If all these paranoid badasses weren't so chickenshit about the sky falling on them, they might actually lead valuable lives where the contribute to society rather than readying themselves for the zombie apocalypse. Death aint something to fear. Its just part of life. These people need make the world better, not sit around waiting for it to go to shit til they lose their minds and start offing innocent people...

 

I like guns, they are cool, like cars are cool, like transformers are cool. I dont like them because they give me a sense of control or power- I just like gadgets, i like metal fabrication, i love the artistry of a subtle curve and a well designed grip.

 

Guns are kinda neat, like swords- but i don't need one to make me a man. Because they don't make you into a man. Life ain't a western. And I don't need to kill anyone to make my life any longer than it already is. Guns are just for killing. And, although i'm not afraid of killing, its just not a goal in my life. Any idiot can kill someone. Being a man is conquering your fear and being better than it. The world will be a better place without weapons that can snuff out a life with less effort than it takes a person to wave his hand. And if you can't see that, well, I hope you get there someday. Because its not the people like me that make this world worse.

 

Think beyond your little life. Get God, Get Perspective, Get Love- Get something- MORE - than fantasizing and worrying about killing others before they kill you.

 

If that's ALL you got- damn, that aint a lot.

 

Life in a shell is hardly any life at'all

Honesty

09/30/2006

another day dies, another sunset suicide-

and the phoenix that is my intoxication rises yet again
Renew my love, my life, my lust - under the flag of a new night's surrender
forget the pain and embrace----

I forget what I am supposed to embrace, exactly,,,

I kick up the stereo, loud,louder, loudest
And let my heart swell in the imagined moment
Worship the illusions ...

Pretending is the only strength I have left

I give my life to my kids- My eternal retribution/salvation
No matter how I fuck up, No matter how I fail, No matter what mistakes I make-
Those mistakes are only my failures to myself

I stand above it all- for Amy and Rain.. IN MY mind, and in THEIR REALITY- I am a GOD

because I have to be. Because anything less would shame me.
I don't mind failing myself. But I will NEVER FAIL them.

So my responsibility takes its toll...

I submit myself to the whims of my children and scatter what dreams I may have yet held for myself
IF They were REALLY my dreams- I should have acted on them long ago, right?
The truth IS: There's a REASON I am a good dad and a failure as an individual.

My parents were lacking

I may be lacking in a LOT of things. But I will never be lacking in taking care of my kids
I was meant to be a Father. I love my duty.
You can condemn ME for anything you feel/want
But you will never find a bit of evidence that I didnt sacrifice everything for my kids.

I give nothing. I give it all.

For Them.

For Andrew. For Evan. For Amy. For Rain.

And, to be really HONEST- fuck it all- Fuck EVERY THing Else- FUck YOu ALL. All MY LOVE is for my KIDS.,

Fuck EVeryone of you bitches that thought you could take EVEN a moment of my lOVE from them.
Fuck you. Fuck me.  I give it all up. I just hope they can find happiness.

The day ends with a whimper, though I pray for a bang. I search for an extreme, in this life so mundane.

All the things I could have done.

5'O'clock came and I ran for the door= Friday. Payday. A thousand dollars waiting for me to blow it on whatever fancy catches my eye.

Phone starts ringing.This girl. That girl. Every woman but Mine- who, at home- was getting ready to Go - to work.
I could go here. I could go there. She doesn't even expect me home. I talked to a few of these "other women" = infidelity in thought, if not in action-
Knowing  I could be a bastard is enough, for the moment= I give a few lame excuses, because, who matters if they are believed or not? I kill the phone, head straight for the beerstore. Pull up in the driveway at home, not knowing much- just that I want to be alone and drink and dream and drink alone and dream alone.

She's there. A kiss. A hug. A passing glance and then I am outside. Two other lost souls are there- doing their own impression of not caring. Brothers. Stringing bows and drinking beer. Their girlfriends and wives, like mine= are an arm's reach away- and that is as close as we want them. We lose ourselves in the illucid business of killing time. She comes out- gives her cursory goodbye- I call her over- Give her a kiss she probably didn't expect... And then she's gone. I drift away from my brothers --- drinking more beer, trying NOT to think. I kick on the stereo in the car- I notice, for a second or two that its a beautiful day then shrug all observations from me. The peace is IN the apathy- The goal is to achieve thoughtlessness.

Bleed by Cold gives way to Blue eyes crying in the Rain by Willie gives way

to Cemetary Gates by Pantera gives way to These Days by Rascal Flatts gives way
to... nothing

but even though at this point, I am in the car, with the volume cranked, and singing .. I am not there. My body is on autopilot. my soul is numb. I stand outside and look at myself- unjudging. I close it all off, one sense at a time- until I am locked away and I don't even know myself.

I don't want to know myself. I don't want to think or feel or understand. I don't want to realize my faults or recognize my triumphs.

So- Nirvana achieved. Blissful Numbing of my ALMOST ever-present self awareness- I clumsily take the keys out of the car, stumble over to the brothers and share a beer quietly, throwing out a sentence when appropriate... like when you are driving and you get to your destination - and suddenly you wonder: "I don't remember driving here.."

Don't say goodnight. just rise and move inside, to another Beer, JUST IN CASE. I am drunk, and wearily, I understand that fact- but I am scared that I could possibly sober up- So I grab TWO beers and head to the bedroom - to the computer - to document this pure exposed emotion. And here we are...