There is a mystery here. I don't know what the One went through. On the eve of celebration i typically don't like to go to church. In fact, i don't like the first idea that comes to my mind when i say the word church. i wish my first impression was one like A.'s dad's motorcycle club. they have church every other friday night. they are each others church. they foster genuine community, invest in one another, basically they do their thing. Very Cool. this is what church should be. a small group of people taking care of each other out of common interest, doing their thing. What a significant number of people have experienced and label church as is a different beast. something grossly big and over produced, with mega structures designed to house thousands of people at once, video projectors, corporate design. these things are not inherently bad. used in their appropriate capacity they may even be a good thing. but alas i digress, i want to talk about the mystery of the One.
choosing to be ripped from eternity and entered into the annals of humanity, helpless, in a barn. not even an out cast - a never let in. a never got a shot. something strange is happening here potentially even mythological in scope. would it bother you if in a few hundred years they have unraveled most of the mystery from the prophecies the way we have unraveled Delphi? Every year it seems science and language progresses to bring us a more accurate picture of what happened back then and it is much different then the picture we had imagined. will they unravel the One?
i watched a show last night on absolute zero. they have never gotten there and don't know what happens when they do. i think the One happens there. same thing with Light speed and speeds faster than light. the Speed, just like the Cold, just like the One. when it gets to have an upper case letter it has broken through and gone into beyond. into a place of expansion. what is funny is that every time i get close to boxing it in it becomes more mysterious. the closer i get the darker it becomes. the deeper it goes. the higher the climb. the more still and silent the voice. Time.
the revelation. the Birth of the One. the Life. the Death. the Resurrection. how fitting Mary, mother of Jesus would be the first to the tomb, the womb of the resurrection. i don't understand what happened. what is happening or what will happen. it feels like there is a candle alive in my ear. i wonder if that will remain, if jacob limps in heaven? limping isn't a sin and neither is being retarded. or having down syndrome. it wasn't long ago that many thought that being born a different race made you inferior, does that mean in heaven we all go through some racial cleansing? things couldn't be farther from the truth. in fact, every tribe, tongue and nation are represented. what about every condition? blind isn't bad? in fact i would argue blind might be a good thing at least for your ears. if every scar is healed then how could thomas feel Jesus' side? i think we limp in heaven, a victorious limp. sinners heaven.
in sinners heaven there is sin there are sinners and there is a loving One. let me run this train through the station before we derail it. if anyone has ever been to a meeting we know it goes a little like - hello my name is J. and i am an addict. i have been an addict for x time and i have been clean for x time. now let's get a little touchy with how heaven is. the garden, paradise, eternity in the cool of the garden with the One, but we still have the knowledge we gained from the forbidden tree. we have re-entered into the place said to be banned. we will eat from the tree of everlasting and be in the presence of the One. i think i will need meetings. hello, my name is J. i am a sinner, i have been clean since x. when we fall off the wagon there is grace. we will have this over whelming connection to the One that will propel us towards a more perfect union. this however can not exist with out choice. there has to be the opportunity for us to sin, we don't have to sin. to be love there must be choice. i would rather a sinner's hell than a robot heaven.
the One. both God and Human, dirt and divine. it blows my mind. i have done drugs, real drugs, been high, i have seen the other side of the moon and i still don't get it. i am in love, i know what love is, real love, real friendship, real family, it is part of that and more. it is always and More. Deeper still. i hope you have a blessed ever lasting revelation of the divine.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
so check it
if you are a faithful reader of brother J. which i think boils down to G. and maybe D. and SF and potentially Mikey please check out http://hauntedbywaters1.blogspot.com/ it is the blog where i am rocking poetry and fiction stuff. all of your feedback is welcome and encouraged, please help me to grow me as a writer. i think i can rock some shiznit out. if you dig it let me know if you don't say it. thanks ya'll, love ya
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Verse i Promised
"An Evening"
Steam, moving like spirals,
lips the air above my hot chocolate
and hangs around my oak corner booth.
The table with the starfish pink
veneer table top, black and chrome
napkin filer - close to the door.
Sugar glazed windows reflect me
and the February blanket outside,
disregarding time.
Streams of ice stand still and wait.
Tomorrow seems a long ways away as
i sit, letting my eyes drift over gas station tabloids,
red brick walls, and the quiet that is pervasive at this hour.
A stalled snow plow distracts me,
lights flashing in the night.
Tomorrow is a long ways away.
"i watch my head spin"
i watch my head spin in a cup of chai tea
trying to remember who i am
and remember who i was
all i know is that
i fall in love with too many girls
and take too many drugs
and the night claws on like a dragon in the sky
dragging his thick tail across my eyes
and across my back
making its way
to memories of the wonderful girl
i spent the evening with
but i shouldn't love her the way that i do
my dearest of friend, she is not the
one for me, although she is everything
she is not the one for me, and not
what i need
you see, what i need is to have my eyes
sink slowly into my down pillow and to have
the shutters close to the windows of my heart
my head needs the rest only home can provide
but it will not find it, this is one more night
where i can't fall asleep
until 4 a.m.
Steam, moving like spirals,
lips the air above my hot chocolate
and hangs around my oak corner booth.
The table with the starfish pink
veneer table top, black and chrome
napkin filer - close to the door.
Sugar glazed windows reflect me
and the February blanket outside,
disregarding time.
Streams of ice stand still and wait.
Tomorrow seems a long ways away as
i sit, letting my eyes drift over gas station tabloids,
red brick walls, and the quiet that is pervasive at this hour.
A stalled snow plow distracts me,
lights flashing in the night.
Tomorrow is a long ways away.
"i watch my head spin"
i watch my head spin in a cup of chai tea
trying to remember who i am
and remember who i was
all i know is that
i fall in love with too many girls
and take too many drugs
and the night claws on like a dragon in the sky
dragging his thick tail across my eyes
and across my back
making its way
to memories of the wonderful girl
i spent the evening with
but i shouldn't love her the way that i do
my dearest of friend, she is not the
one for me, although she is everything
she is not the one for me, and not
what i need
you see, what i need is to have my eyes
sink slowly into my down pillow and to have
the shutters close to the windows of my heart
my head needs the rest only home can provide
but it will not find it, this is one more night
where i can't fall asleep
until 4 a.m.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Til it Fades
Tie me to the radiator - the meds just kicked in and i thought of stealing SSN's and DOB's and names for every reason you can imagine - damn i almost posted song lyrics right there - glad i didn't i can hang through it not gonna lose touch lets go get some. don't lose touch.
my teeth hurt, i am fighting not taking more than the rationed out orange, i will not dope fiend out. i am a walking talking pez dispenser for neuropathic pain killers that grow eyes and vaguely english tongues. they want out of their bottles and into my brain. i ain't gonna and they know it they call me weak and i puff up, i will show em, i will show all of them. this is gonna get nuts. i envsion tesla type madness eminating and ruminating from me.
what i want is real, i want truth whatever comes. One give me what you give me; rose or snake, bread or stone. Lion or Lamb.
my teeth hurt, i am fighting not taking more than the rationed out orange, i will not dope fiend out. i am a walking talking pez dispenser for neuropathic pain killers that grow eyes and vaguely english tongues. they want out of their bottles and into my brain. i ain't gonna and they know it they call me weak and i puff up, i will show em, i will show all of them. this is gonna get nuts. i envsion tesla type madness eminating and ruminating from me.
what i want is real, i want truth whatever comes. One give me what you give me; rose or snake, bread or stone. Lion or Lamb.
there are many things i would like to say
*sometimes the meds i'm on make my chair feel kind of weird, like i am riding in a spaceship, i think the starship enterprise. let's just say i get lifted.
*i don't think much of this is going to last, if it does i am probably going to be ashamed of some of the things i've said and done. i don't want to guess at things or be known of as a fool but life is to short not to live and stay away from the edge of the limb. so let go now from the trunks you hold dear and live for all its worth. now i'm not sayin be an idiot, but life ain't always japanese baseball, sometimes it's okay to swing for the fences.
*it's time for firewood. if the seed is for the field and the trowl is for the hand then what are people like G and i for? i think we are revolutionaries for better and worse. i've got enough gasoline and plenty of matches.
*it is a bad day for my face, it has been tough for writing about it lately, i kind of push it off to the side and ignore it, i do it mainly because to keep me at ease i have to have 18 pots on the fire at once. i have to or i will lose it. a part of me believes my condition is meant to teach me Silence.
*Do you promise me you still love what you loved when you left?
*I need a new tattoo, i don't know what it is going to be, i think it should be small though, i am thinking a harp or a star.
*I know it is a bad day when i wake up at 5:45 and i start to go about my business and the face starts to rev up the hate so i lay down on the floor of the bathroom and nod off and then i dream about ninjas - yes ninjas trying to shoot me in the face with assault rifles - why the fuck do ninjas need AK's??
*not to gloat but if something does last i got to say a few words of praise, first to the One, damn you did and do, and are gonna do well. to my fam we may be broken but we are here, to A. i love you and you are the best, i love you with all my heart, to my friends, wow you guys rock. to my enemies - i am coming for your fingers you better be coming for mine.
*If i am going to wear my headphones and cause myself the pain that comes with touching my ear that way by god i am going to listen to this musi sampler so loud my brain stem jiggles lose and i die a happy hard core death
*we are dirt and breath, bread and wine.
*i don't think much of this is going to last, if it does i am probably going to be ashamed of some of the things i've said and done. i don't want to guess at things or be known of as a fool but life is to short not to live and stay away from the edge of the limb. so let go now from the trunks you hold dear and live for all its worth. now i'm not sayin be an idiot, but life ain't always japanese baseball, sometimes it's okay to swing for the fences.
*it's time for firewood. if the seed is for the field and the trowl is for the hand then what are people like G and i for? i think we are revolutionaries for better and worse. i've got enough gasoline and plenty of matches.
*it is a bad day for my face, it has been tough for writing about it lately, i kind of push it off to the side and ignore it, i do it mainly because to keep me at ease i have to have 18 pots on the fire at once. i have to or i will lose it. a part of me believes my condition is meant to teach me Silence.
*Do you promise me you still love what you loved when you left?
*I need a new tattoo, i don't know what it is going to be, i think it should be small though, i am thinking a harp or a star.
*I know it is a bad day when i wake up at 5:45 and i start to go about my business and the face starts to rev up the hate so i lay down on the floor of the bathroom and nod off and then i dream about ninjas - yes ninjas trying to shoot me in the face with assault rifles - why the fuck do ninjas need AK's??
*not to gloat but if something does last i got to say a few words of praise, first to the One, damn you did and do, and are gonna do well. to my fam we may be broken but we are here, to A. i love you and you are the best, i love you with all my heart, to my friends, wow you guys rock. to my enemies - i am coming for your fingers you better be coming for mine.
*If i am going to wear my headphones and cause myself the pain that comes with touching my ear that way by god i am going to listen to this musi sampler so loud my brain stem jiggles lose and i die a happy hard core death
*we are dirt and breath, bread and wine.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Crushin Blow X: The New Marc
Once Again limited time as it is a thursday and A. has her computer with her and i am at the local book depository, i am "unmedicated" via perscription drugs right now so i am incredibly lucid. however, i am incredibly medicated with the new Marc. instead of the common 1 shot i get, i got 7. 3 in the mouth 4 in the face. it has me taken care of until i get home but i had to drop by and do this. i confirmed with my doc i prbably shouldn't be driving, cheers to that, i am about to lose even more money to the state as a pay a fine for being delinquent. anyway, some noticable patterns, the wind is brutal on my condition but the day after is bad too, saying words with hard consanants poses problems.
i am bewaring the ides of March today. i heed when a seer sees.
anyway, the hour is short and the work is long i need to be off.
a murmur among the flurry grows.
i am bewaring the ides of March today. i heed when a seer sees.
anyway, the hour is short and the work is long i need to be off.
a murmur among the flurry grows.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Crusing Blow IX: The New Dose
today was strange, well, let me refrase, today was loaded. my new meds are like wacky taffy in my brain, stretching and pulling it in all directions. i am pretty confident i shouldn't drive. but guess what i am still behind the wheel - hells yeah! or hells no. who knows, better yet who cares, what really counts - what really counts - when the drugs wear off - when the chips are gone - when the booze dry up - when the fire dies down - when the thunder goes away - when there is neither dark nor light - what really will count is whether or not the One knows you. that is straight from the mouth of the One. i have no clue what this may mean. if it is anything like what i imagine it is the real of relationship. i am gonna try and relate it to me and my dogs but it ain't gonna work but i am gonna try.
my dogs know me. they know my scent, so when i come home smelling of other dogs they check me out close. they know my voice, so when i am angry or happy they respond. they know my face, my motion. in fact, i think one of them even knows my disease. ebony has figured out to approach me from the left side of my face. their senses are filled with the memory of me so they konw me and defend me without reserve. they respond when i am weak and when i am strong. now get this, my dogs and i don't speak the same language, we may use some of the same words like food or outside but we are talking a max of 50 words. then we talk about life span. i out span the dogs i am before them and after them. now for the sake of discussion grant me the provision without dispute that my intellect far outpaces a dogs (this debate needs to take place else where). so we have a situation where the dogs know me and live in trust of my provision and i know them, i have given one of them their true name. her common name is Cali but her true name is Calico Jade the Empress of Stinktown. i know her, i know the mama dog, granted she was a farm dog so we don't know the sire but we can assume i could. i know the owners of the other dog. i know the farm where she came from and the trailer under which she hid. i know my mutts and they know me. i feel confident, if i maintained the exchange of death then these mutts would make it through the gates.
i guess what i am sayin is we are dogs. we lick ourselves, eat grass, shit, chase ball, hump legs, hunt the air, point, slobber, live of nature, respond in kind - but we can be tamed and we can know some things, we can be trained to know a few words and concepts like food and love. and we can be taught not to go indoors. we can be loved.
people get all bent out of shape trying to be something that isn't human. now there are some dogs that are ultra trained seein eye dogs. way to go guys - and for once i am not being sarcastic about this, being able to learn more words from the master is good. and there are some wolves, which is also good, sometimes there is some stuff in the world that needs to be taken care of. i guess what i am sayin is be what you are. just be what you are with the One. in the end we are all different there isn't one way that is going to be just right for everyone. take it like this. i have two mutts, Cali and Ebony. they know me differently, different eyes, ears, noses, tongues, different minds. the way they get me, the same me, will be similar but totally diferent.
so here's my new dose, this is the new word the one is trying to teach me today: diverse brotherhood. the basic gig is that we come with tons of preconceived notions of how things are supposed to be so we force this construct onto our perseptions of the world and anticipations of others. my dream is to break down the constructs in my head and begin communicating with the One in a real way. i also want to hear from my different brothers and sisters who are learning the language of the One to share their pictures of the One so i can be blessed and so they can be blessed by telling there story.
which comes to what G. and i would like to call a 1%er church. still in its conception. but a whisper.
my dogs know me. they know my scent, so when i come home smelling of other dogs they check me out close. they know my voice, so when i am angry or happy they respond. they know my face, my motion. in fact, i think one of them even knows my disease. ebony has figured out to approach me from the left side of my face. their senses are filled with the memory of me so they konw me and defend me without reserve. they respond when i am weak and when i am strong. now get this, my dogs and i don't speak the same language, we may use some of the same words like food or outside but we are talking a max of 50 words. then we talk about life span. i out span the dogs i am before them and after them. now for the sake of discussion grant me the provision without dispute that my intellect far outpaces a dogs (this debate needs to take place else where). so we have a situation where the dogs know me and live in trust of my provision and i know them, i have given one of them their true name. her common name is Cali but her true name is Calico Jade the Empress of Stinktown. i know her, i know the mama dog, granted she was a farm dog so we don't know the sire but we can assume i could. i know the owners of the other dog. i know the farm where she came from and the trailer under which she hid. i know my mutts and they know me. i feel confident, if i maintained the exchange of death then these mutts would make it through the gates.
i guess what i am sayin is we are dogs. we lick ourselves, eat grass, shit, chase ball, hump legs, hunt the air, point, slobber, live of nature, respond in kind - but we can be tamed and we can know some things, we can be trained to know a few words and concepts like food and love. and we can be taught not to go indoors. we can be loved.
people get all bent out of shape trying to be something that isn't human. now there are some dogs that are ultra trained seein eye dogs. way to go guys - and for once i am not being sarcastic about this, being able to learn more words from the master is good. and there are some wolves, which is also good, sometimes there is some stuff in the world that needs to be taken care of. i guess what i am sayin is be what you are. just be what you are with the One. in the end we are all different there isn't one way that is going to be just right for everyone. take it like this. i have two mutts, Cali and Ebony. they know me differently, different eyes, ears, noses, tongues, different minds. the way they get me, the same me, will be similar but totally diferent.
so here's my new dose, this is the new word the one is trying to teach me today: diverse brotherhood. the basic gig is that we come with tons of preconceived notions of how things are supposed to be so we force this construct onto our perseptions of the world and anticipations of others. my dream is to break down the constructs in my head and begin communicating with the One in a real way. i also want to hear from my different brothers and sisters who are learning the language of the One to share their pictures of the One so i can be blessed and so they can be blessed by telling there story.
which comes to what G. and i would like to call a 1%er church. still in its conception. but a whisper.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Crushing Blow VII: New Drugs
i don't have much time today, i am at the local library writing this and i have already burned my hour down to 21 minutes. i have been researching the new (additional) perscription i am on. it is called topamax, and in contrast to the guess made by G., it is a hardcore anti seisure, anti bi-poalr, anti convulsant, anti PTSD drug. every new step in this adventure points to serious business, just thinking that without my insurance my scrips would run $300 a month, not counting the every 3 week shot i get in my face. it makes me feel for those who don't have the ability to have these drugs on the cheap like i do. what do the poor do when the demons come? gives me better insight to the healing ministry of the One. sick and poor often go hand in hand, wonderfully crafted is the message of sinner's heaven. poor man's heaven, sick man's heaven. where the sinner is saint, the poor are rich and the sick are healed. not in the process but in essence. there is no sorrow heaven can't heal. it's good to have the deep breath of relief that if i must suffer with this, if my weird nerve disorder is truly my gimp, my thorn, my cup, one day i will be healed. and if i dig deep into the constructs of time and how the dichotomy of the One dissects everything, i realize i am healed now. yay though i sorrow, even though i pain i am healed. i am both the dead man and the living man. and if i break the wall and ruin the false perception of the church which keeps its' members in the chokehold, i am already resurrected.
this part is for you mr. john edwards... i may be a sinner in the hand of an angry god but i am also a saint in the hand of a loving god. and they are One, and i am one. at the same time. without error. coexistantly. as much as i am sick then i am healed.
a little verse for the end of a post:
so let us go let us die, let that moonshine in our eye
and the night time be the best thing for us now
let sorrow be our friend, that we worship at the end
if the first shall be the last i'm at the rear
this part is for you mr. john edwards... i may be a sinner in the hand of an angry god but i am also a saint in the hand of a loving god. and they are One, and i am one. at the same time. without error. coexistantly. as much as i am sick then i am healed.
a little verse for the end of a post:
so let us go let us die, let that moonshine in our eye
and the night time be the best thing for us now
let sorrow be our friend, that we worship at the end
if the first shall be the last i'm at the rear
Monday, December 1, 2008
Crushing Blow VI: the morning after
so i realized that my last post was kinda wacky, in the end i really just wanted to push out the crazyness my head was going through, i just don't dig what i am rolling currently. it sounds weird but i think writing the crazy things helped me, not sure how but i feel a little more decompressed in my head. it was a lot like the painting the other night. it didn't make my face stop hurting but it gave my mind the space to settle. imagine trying to mix too many ingredients in a small bowl, there just isn't enough room. writing, painting, music, all things just making he bowl bigger. i realize after more careful review my thoughts weren't limited to horror last night at the walgreens. i had a nice talk with the man in the texas hat, we talked about the BCS mistake that is college football. got to be nice to some folks in the store. i know it's lame for me to mope around all tragic like i felt last night...there are those who have it harder than me, hard to keep that present of mind. heck i think i need to slow it down more.
near the river of pain.
near the river of pain.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Crushing Blow V
my psychologist says i need to keep a journal concerning the events of my life and my face. so i am gonna try to write everyday. this is going to be more than just a blog, this is going to be unfiltered expose. if you disrespect what i write i will kill you. i am not talking about critiquing what i write, that is fine, but if you disrespect me or my friends or the open wound i am going to display i will hunt you down and do to you the things i only imagine. i will take out the violence of the places i have been and the places i am doomed to go. now you are warned. don't fuck with what i am about to lay down, you can comment, you can love, you can sharpen me as iron sharpens iron, but i swear to everything that is holy and everything damned if you cross me in the way i have outlined you will feel the hell that i live in.
let's begin.
i am dangerous, i am a danger to myself and those around me. i walk a tight rope over perilous fires. the danger is this, when the pain comes i turn into the essence. unlike my common life as vice lord of punk rock destruction and articulate member of the rebellion when i transition into the essence i turn. the essence is the place where evil spawns and good people go to die. i have to wear a goofy hat every where i go, trying to keep the wind from my face. the hat itself hurts but not as much as the breeze/gale always blowing in colorado winter. we will get to the absence of vice here in just a few, more about my recent trek to walgreens. i went to refill my scrip which now costs $20 instead of $13, fucking drug companies. fucking profit. as i walk the aisles waiting for the line at the counter to die down i turn. i wonder if i can drink a gallon of bleach, i notice they put the knives right next to the bleach. good move idiots. i think about killing everyone in the store except the guy in the texas hat and the disabled man. i know i wouldn't enjoy everyone's blood running at my feet but i believe it may help rescue them. as i am checking out i lie to the woman working the register, i tell her i work at Kodak, graveyards. the disabled man mentions he knows someone who works there i chat with him about it. lie lie lie. he buys it and it makes his night, he got to connect with the flow of mankind, he is a part of a whole because i lied. fuck who preaches as long as the voice of the One is preached. i fucking hate going outside, the wind hits my face and i want to run screaming inside.
i really want some vice right now. but i can't, no cigar, it has nicotine, no caffeine so no coffee or chocolate, no alcohol because of recent events, hell i couldn't even get an erection today when i tried to rub one out. no fucking vice. no healing, no peace. i take countless drugs, i get shots in my face, i do everything to reinforce the safety nets and fences i have to be corralled in, i am wearing thin. my head is pounding, my face is the hell in the dark. me and my buddy G. talk about sinner's heaven. i will get there someday, but until then i stay in saint's hell. i know earth has no injury heaven can't heal - i can go there any time i want but i am afraid if i punch my own ticket on that train i can't ride. i will have to wait it out in the station with all the other kids who drank the gallon of bleach.
yesterday one of the girls at work told me she knows i could be a serial killer. oh what she doesn't know. i want to do things to people that i can't describe, think about the cenobites in hellraiser then add the dash of humanity i would bring. pinhead didn't cry as he educated and enlightened. i would weep as the bodies stacked. i am not sure about tomorrow. but i know about right now. i am not hurting anyone right now, at least i hope i'm not. the violence that portols through the right side of my face is the violence in the garden and the violence on the hill. the violence i want to crush materialism and pop television with. horrible horrible things. are there hidden gems? yes am i going to find them. i don't know, i know there is gold in them hills but every swing of the pick turns up dirt and fools gold.
i think about blood letting, i wonder if acupuncture would help. marijuana, lsd, letting a good friend just knock me out every day with a strong right cross to the center of my disorder. the cheapest surgery price i found is $65k, add to that anesthesia and then hospital stay. an insurance 80/20 split leaves my little family with $20k of debt that would be hard to roll with. i feel horrible about the shit A. has to go through because of this, she is sitting next to me right now and i hope she is and is not reading this. i feel like hell that she is trapped with me in this disease. it only shows her unwavering devotion and love. i don't even know why i am so loved. she is the voice of the One when i am being crushed, G. shows up and keeps the raging fires of brimstone shared and unburdened from me. the One is with me via the people i am with. the One is in heaven and on the earth both places at once and with out error. everywhere and nowhere all at once. brilliant. i am trying to give up on asking why. why is an empty dead end alley of thought, i wish i was more like one of our hybrid dogs. they don't ask why and they take things day to day. some day i will probably be able to do this with out having to process actively. someday but not today.
let's begin.
i am dangerous, i am a danger to myself and those around me. i walk a tight rope over perilous fires. the danger is this, when the pain comes i turn into the essence. unlike my common life as vice lord of punk rock destruction and articulate member of the rebellion when i transition into the essence i turn. the essence is the place where evil spawns and good people go to die. i have to wear a goofy hat every where i go, trying to keep the wind from my face. the hat itself hurts but not as much as the breeze/gale always blowing in colorado winter. we will get to the absence of vice here in just a few, more about my recent trek to walgreens. i went to refill my scrip which now costs $20 instead of $13, fucking drug companies. fucking profit. as i walk the aisles waiting for the line at the counter to die down i turn. i wonder if i can drink a gallon of bleach, i notice they put the knives right next to the bleach. good move idiots. i think about killing everyone in the store except the guy in the texas hat and the disabled man. i know i wouldn't enjoy everyone's blood running at my feet but i believe it may help rescue them. as i am checking out i lie to the woman working the register, i tell her i work at Kodak, graveyards. the disabled man mentions he knows someone who works there i chat with him about it. lie lie lie. he buys it and it makes his night, he got to connect with the flow of mankind, he is a part of a whole because i lied. fuck who preaches as long as the voice of the One is preached. i fucking hate going outside, the wind hits my face and i want to run screaming inside.
i really want some vice right now. but i can't, no cigar, it has nicotine, no caffeine so no coffee or chocolate, no alcohol because of recent events, hell i couldn't even get an erection today when i tried to rub one out. no fucking vice. no healing, no peace. i take countless drugs, i get shots in my face, i do everything to reinforce the safety nets and fences i have to be corralled in, i am wearing thin. my head is pounding, my face is the hell in the dark. me and my buddy G. talk about sinner's heaven. i will get there someday, but until then i stay in saint's hell. i know earth has no injury heaven can't heal - i can go there any time i want but i am afraid if i punch my own ticket on that train i can't ride. i will have to wait it out in the station with all the other kids who drank the gallon of bleach.
yesterday one of the girls at work told me she knows i could be a serial killer. oh what she doesn't know. i want to do things to people that i can't describe, think about the cenobites in hellraiser then add the dash of humanity i would bring. pinhead didn't cry as he educated and enlightened. i would weep as the bodies stacked. i am not sure about tomorrow. but i know about right now. i am not hurting anyone right now, at least i hope i'm not. the violence that portols through the right side of my face is the violence in the garden and the violence on the hill. the violence i want to crush materialism and pop television with. horrible horrible things. are there hidden gems? yes am i going to find them. i don't know, i know there is gold in them hills but every swing of the pick turns up dirt and fools gold.
i think about blood letting, i wonder if acupuncture would help. marijuana, lsd, letting a good friend just knock me out every day with a strong right cross to the center of my disorder. the cheapest surgery price i found is $65k, add to that anesthesia and then hospital stay. an insurance 80/20 split leaves my little family with $20k of debt that would be hard to roll with. i feel horrible about the shit A. has to go through because of this, she is sitting next to me right now and i hope she is and is not reading this. i feel like hell that she is trapped with me in this disease. it only shows her unwavering devotion and love. i don't even know why i am so loved. she is the voice of the One when i am being crushed, G. shows up and keeps the raging fires of brimstone shared and unburdened from me. the One is with me via the people i am with. the One is in heaven and on the earth both places at once and with out error. everywhere and nowhere all at once. brilliant. i am trying to give up on asking why. why is an empty dead end alley of thought, i wish i was more like one of our hybrid dogs. they don't ask why and they take things day to day. some day i will probably be able to do this with out having to process actively. someday but not today.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Where Do You Live?
...or maybe better - Where Are You? Where do you exist... i think any answer works here. a little bit here a little bit there - all valid points. in memories, in a chair, whatever. Maybe you don't exist. well let me say if you don't exist and you are reading this then that is a pretty nifty trick and i want some of what you are drinking.
Identity. It is the big four: 1. Who are you? 2. Where have you been? 3. Where are you at? 4. Where are you going? Four questions, not one longer than four words. Some of the hardest questions to answer. I would rather face a million moral problems than be forced to answer any of these with speed.
these sorts of questions come up from time to time. generally when crisis comes to town. i can't remember where i first heard these four questions positioned together. they seem to fit well. i know it's not deep stuff but i think of these things when i embark on any sort of adventure. good questions to ask.
Identity. It is the big four: 1. Who are you? 2. Where have you been? 3. Where are you at? 4. Where are you going? Four questions, not one longer than four words. Some of the hardest questions to answer. I would rather face a million moral problems than be forced to answer any of these with speed.
these sorts of questions come up from time to time. generally when crisis comes to town. i can't remember where i first heard these four questions positioned together. they seem to fit well. i know it's not deep stuff but i think of these things when i embark on any sort of adventure. good questions to ask.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Crushing Blow IV: You Don't Know Where I've Been Lou, You Don't Know Where I've Been
in some sick way i feel bad when i don't post, i like to imagine legions in the great cyber no where clinging to my words. huddled masses waiting for the new land i provide. delusion and i know it. Aside from the MPD of the few readers i have, i feel like what i write is only read by a select few. so i often feel like i am writing for them. and most of them - unlike the title of this post would suggest - Know where i have been. for those of you who don't i only have these words: buckle up.
Crushing Blow IV - The Failure of self.
monday was the normal bad - violent streams of electricity, purging fires of pain, you know, the normal stuff for me when there is a bad day. i don't go to work, i hide from contact on the right side of my face. monday night as i walk down the stairs of my split level i misjudge how much wall exists at the bottom of the stairs. it is dark and i am thinking the staircase ends at the wall so i am believing i am all clear to take a right turn at the bottom of the steps.
i have disproved existentialism. i believed there was no wall. but let me tell you, when i turned my face into the 18" of drywall, wood, and paint it was real whether or not i could believe or hope it away. in fact not only was it a wall but my personal teleporter. as soon as my face hit the wall it became a doorway to a universe where only pain and darkness exists.
i immediately feel to the ground blind and screaming. i cry, cowered into the fetal position, the unseen slamming an electric chair into my face. my dogs are going wild because all they know is i have been transformed. i am no longer the one who loves them, who feeds them, who walks them, i am an animal. a wounded beast, something to be growled at. i am something that is growling.
when i regain enough consciousness to crawl to the bathroom, i inch my way along the carpet and supplant the pain inspired nausea and tears into the toilet. i have been to another place. forced transcendental meditation. in short, this was, by far, the worst pain i have ever felt. i have been broken, shot, burned, dislocated, tortured and none touch this. i thought i was a tough man but i am not. 18" of wall made me less than whole. it shook my core. that little bit of material taught me a lesson i had long lost my touch and taste for - i am incomplete.
needless to say i didn't go to work all of last week. i cowered from wind, from touch, from everything. i tried to gut it out like i have been taught but i couldn't make it. i broke and called the doc on thursday and she was unhappy that i had waited. i was in her office that afternoon, face cold packed with anaglesiac and a shot of marcaine into the nerve. my doc wants me out of the unit where i work. talking all day slays me. not to mention the fact i am losing it a bit right now. granted i have never thought of my self as completely sane. i have always felt i am in a place where everyone else gets to except that i live there. my emotion is always extreme, rarely am i not thinking or twitching away. i burn at both ends and this horrible condition called trigeminal neuralgia rips away most of the trappings of normalcy i maintain to keep from scaring other people. i find myself using words with acquaintances i normally save only for friends and enemies. for those who know me they know i keep the cards close to my chest but lately i can not. i am the walking wounded and i am not hiding with bandages, i am bleeding on my desk, bleeding on your desk.
the real fear of the week though is friday night. for fairness to all involved i will not speak of it all here. i can keep some cards close still and i chose to do that now with these. i will say this though, i thought that i would break this weekend. i thought i would be in prison by saturday afternoon and i thought i would have been dead by sunday morning. i am not. i am most assuredly alive and eternally grateful to the One who taught me how to breath under pressure. how to sweat drops of blood and how to drink the cup that's mine.
Blessed are you, One, king of the suffering, blessed are you for teaching me the way of patience, forgive me my pride and thinking i run with out you as my source. continue to teach me your way of Suffering. teach me your way of healing. One, you have got my full and undivided attention. i am finally inline with purpose. red stubbled and gaunt i am here only for you. teach me to love, make me beyond as you are but make me human still.
Crushing Blow IV - The Failure of self.
monday was the normal bad - violent streams of electricity, purging fires of pain, you know, the normal stuff for me when there is a bad day. i don't go to work, i hide from contact on the right side of my face. monday night as i walk down the stairs of my split level i misjudge how much wall exists at the bottom of the stairs. it is dark and i am thinking the staircase ends at the wall so i am believing i am all clear to take a right turn at the bottom of the steps.
i have disproved existentialism. i believed there was no wall. but let me tell you, when i turned my face into the 18" of drywall, wood, and paint it was real whether or not i could believe or hope it away. in fact not only was it a wall but my personal teleporter. as soon as my face hit the wall it became a doorway to a universe where only pain and darkness exists.
i immediately feel to the ground blind and screaming. i cry, cowered into the fetal position, the unseen slamming an electric chair into my face. my dogs are going wild because all they know is i have been transformed. i am no longer the one who loves them, who feeds them, who walks them, i am an animal. a wounded beast, something to be growled at. i am something that is growling.
when i regain enough consciousness to crawl to the bathroom, i inch my way along the carpet and supplant the pain inspired nausea and tears into the toilet. i have been to another place. forced transcendental meditation. in short, this was, by far, the worst pain i have ever felt. i have been broken, shot, burned, dislocated, tortured and none touch this. i thought i was a tough man but i am not. 18" of wall made me less than whole. it shook my core. that little bit of material taught me a lesson i had long lost my touch and taste for - i am incomplete.
needless to say i didn't go to work all of last week. i cowered from wind, from touch, from everything. i tried to gut it out like i have been taught but i couldn't make it. i broke and called the doc on thursday and she was unhappy that i had waited. i was in her office that afternoon, face cold packed with anaglesiac and a shot of marcaine into the nerve. my doc wants me out of the unit where i work. talking all day slays me. not to mention the fact i am losing it a bit right now. granted i have never thought of my self as completely sane. i have always felt i am in a place where everyone else gets to except that i live there. my emotion is always extreme, rarely am i not thinking or twitching away. i burn at both ends and this horrible condition called trigeminal neuralgia rips away most of the trappings of normalcy i maintain to keep from scaring other people. i find myself using words with acquaintances i normally save only for friends and enemies. for those who know me they know i keep the cards close to my chest but lately i can not. i am the walking wounded and i am not hiding with bandages, i am bleeding on my desk, bleeding on your desk.
the real fear of the week though is friday night. for fairness to all involved i will not speak of it all here. i can keep some cards close still and i chose to do that now with these. i will say this though, i thought that i would break this weekend. i thought i would be in prison by saturday afternoon and i thought i would have been dead by sunday morning. i am not. i am most assuredly alive and eternally grateful to the One who taught me how to breath under pressure. how to sweat drops of blood and how to drink the cup that's mine.
Blessed are you, One, king of the suffering, blessed are you for teaching me the way of patience, forgive me my pride and thinking i run with out you as my source. continue to teach me your way of Suffering. teach me your way of healing. One, you have got my full and undivided attention. i am finally inline with purpose. red stubbled and gaunt i am here only for you. teach me to love, make me beyond as you are but make me human still.
Friday, November 7, 2008
the sinner and the pentecost
it rolls like smoke from slow burned cloves. sin is easy for me. don't get me wrong, i can't stand it, it makes my skin crawl but sin is easy for me. i have epic problems with the canonization process but i think Paul nailed it just right when he wrote that what "i want to do i do not do and yet what i do not want to do this is what i do. oh what a wretched man i am, who shall save me?' this is the liturgy i have. i am samson's anger, david's lust, paul's prejudice, judas's kiss. there is no doubt about it i am a sinner. there are times when my actions are evil to the brink of as proverbs says, don't chill with those who plan to do bad. which in my layman's tongue translates to don't hang with me.
it whispers like germinating dandelions, their white seeds floating like the Spirit of the One, where ever it pleases. John the Apostle said no one knows which way it comes or which way it goes. there are only whispers, at least you should hope there are only whispers. the terrifying scream of the One kills mortal men. it is not something to be hoped for. like sin, the spirit crawls, but it doesn't crawl on the outer epidermis, it crawls on the inside. since the spirit goes where it please it knows my darkness, no question of the mire it finds. i invited the Spirit to do this and it does it of its own accord. it wants to know me with deep breaths of deep findings, deep pain, deep hells, deep sins. it wants me to have deep love, deep healing, and deep heavens. the heaven the Spirit gives me is not clouds and harps. it is deep wells for a thirsty man, the Spirit takes me to a sinners heaven. a broken man's healing.
there is no doubt that i do not understand it all. i am a broken bodied, mind mutated deviant, sinning, coarse, uncaring loaf, who has perfected hedonism. i do not know why i am still in the corp real state, i should be dead - i was dead. but i am alive. not of my own accord. the Spirit loves to go into the death in me and wring it out. the Spirit loves to woo me, taking hold of me, whispering into my ear things to lure me away from the clove smoke. it is almost physical. the tongue of fire resting on me. the only language is the whispers of the One. it is spoken in the heart. it can not be uttered with the lips. the One knows me, the One is hurt at times because i choose the darkness but the One loves me. i don't know why but i am loved by the One.
the sinner and the pentecost.
it whispers like germinating dandelions, their white seeds floating like the Spirit of the One, where ever it pleases. John the Apostle said no one knows which way it comes or which way it goes. there are only whispers, at least you should hope there are only whispers. the terrifying scream of the One kills mortal men. it is not something to be hoped for. like sin, the spirit crawls, but it doesn't crawl on the outer epidermis, it crawls on the inside. since the spirit goes where it please it knows my darkness, no question of the mire it finds. i invited the Spirit to do this and it does it of its own accord. it wants to know me with deep breaths of deep findings, deep pain, deep hells, deep sins. it wants me to have deep love, deep healing, and deep heavens. the heaven the Spirit gives me is not clouds and harps. it is deep wells for a thirsty man, the Spirit takes me to a sinners heaven. a broken man's healing.
there is no doubt that i do not understand it all. i am a broken bodied, mind mutated deviant, sinning, coarse, uncaring loaf, who has perfected hedonism. i do not know why i am still in the corp real state, i should be dead - i was dead. but i am alive. not of my own accord. the Spirit loves to go into the death in me and wring it out. the Spirit loves to woo me, taking hold of me, whispering into my ear things to lure me away from the clove smoke. it is almost physical. the tongue of fire resting on me. the only language is the whispers of the One. it is spoken in the heart. it can not be uttered with the lips. the One knows me, the One is hurt at times because i choose the darkness but the One loves me. i don't know why but i am loved by the One.
the sinner and the pentecost.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Lonely One
what is man? a little dust, a little breath, hopefully a little bit of the infinite. it's funny because the more i read and thought and chewed upon your loneliness the rudder of my brain kept turning me back to the loneliness of the One. is it weird to think of the One as lonely, needy even.
imagine the wild passion spilling over. the One scouring the expanse of infinity looking for an entity to share something with. The One a ravaging beast, salivating with hunger and desire. and knowing if it self replicated that it would know itself already and couldn't share, couldn't embrace, couldn't delve, hope, desire, love. So the One creates humanity and in the cool of the evening walks with it in the garden. Then the betrayal comes. The war begins. From the first breaths of love the One knew there was the risk of being alone again. Knew there would be spilt blood. So blood was spilled and once again we can know and be known by the One.
And here we are, humanity, thick and impestuous. Full of ourselves, our vain glory and vain defeat. Our only design is to be the company of the One and yet it is the hardest aim. our greatest love and yet we are distracted by the wiles of the other creations... alas i digress this is not about me, it is to be about the One. The Lonely One.
One did something never done before with us, it made us able to love. not just something that is loved but something that can love. this alone illustrates the desperation behind one aspect of the One. it is paramount, essential, we realize the One has a desire only we can meet. the implications behind this are unmistakable. somehow the One is both whole and incomplete at the same time. coexistently. with out error. i can only imagine the only thing preventing the universe from dissipating under the weight of the One's desire for us is the One itself. people wonder why there are supernovas, wild fires, why destruction even exists. all these things are displays of the loneliness and desperate love of the One. i am utterly ashamed and utterly loved all at once. bound for destruction yet saved because the One died and did not stay dead. let me run that one by you one more time. the One died yet lived.
there is so much left to say about this but because i need to stop writing immediately (i work illegally from work) here is where it will ned for now. please comment as i want to know what you think
imagine the wild passion spilling over. the One scouring the expanse of infinity looking for an entity to share something with. The One a ravaging beast, salivating with hunger and desire. and knowing if it self replicated that it would know itself already and couldn't share, couldn't embrace, couldn't delve, hope, desire, love. So the One creates humanity and in the cool of the evening walks with it in the garden. Then the betrayal comes. The war begins. From the first breaths of love the One knew there was the risk of being alone again. Knew there would be spilt blood. So blood was spilled and once again we can know and be known by the One.
And here we are, humanity, thick and impestuous. Full of ourselves, our vain glory and vain defeat. Our only design is to be the company of the One and yet it is the hardest aim. our greatest love and yet we are distracted by the wiles of the other creations... alas i digress this is not about me, it is to be about the One. The Lonely One.
One did something never done before with us, it made us able to love. not just something that is loved but something that can love. this alone illustrates the desperation behind one aspect of the One. it is paramount, essential, we realize the One has a desire only we can meet. the implications behind this are unmistakable. somehow the One is both whole and incomplete at the same time. coexistently. with out error. i can only imagine the only thing preventing the universe from dissipating under the weight of the One's desire for us is the One itself. people wonder why there are supernovas, wild fires, why destruction even exists. all these things are displays of the loneliness and desperate love of the One. i am utterly ashamed and utterly loved all at once. bound for destruction yet saved because the One died and did not stay dead. let me run that one by you one more time. the One died yet lived.
there is so much left to say about this but because i need to stop writing immediately (i work illegally from work) here is where it will ned for now. please comment as i want to know what you think
Friday, October 31, 2008
Crushing Blow III
i am at work so there is nothing i can do. i am fighting back tears so i don't draw any more attention than i already have. it feels like the reaper himself is slowly gliding his sythe through the right side of my head. it is indescribable. it's an air hammer battering ram, one stroke, two, three. a rythem of pain tomed to my breathing. i think of holding my breath long enough to pass out but i can't do it. my glasses are off, i can't wear my headset. no stavesacre coming through my earphones to comfort me. what did i do? i can't remember breaking any of the rules today or yesterday to cause this. no caffine no stimulants, i have kept up with my pills. i got my face shots last week. i did it right. then i remeber i don't cause everything, my actions are not the center of the universe. i am helpless, i am at the hand of pain. its long black thumb pushing into my ear. i can barely see to type, i can't lift my head to the screen, i don't know how this post will get published.
the hammers are gone now. my vision is blurry, my head is swimming, no, almost drowning with residual pain. it washes over me like a bath in the ocean, the waves almost move me in my chair. i sway with the comfort of residual pain. blessed the battering ram has retreated if for just a little while. it takes about five minutes from now to get to where i can work. it was bad just then but i know i can't miss any more time right now. deep breath by deep breath. i am never alone. keep waiting, One is right on time.
the hammers are gone now. my vision is blurry, my head is swimming, no, almost drowning with residual pain. it washes over me like a bath in the ocean, the waves almost move me in my chair. i sway with the comfort of residual pain. blessed the battering ram has retreated if for just a little while. it takes about five minutes from now to get to where i can work. it was bad just then but i know i can't miss any more time right now. deep breath by deep breath. i am never alone. keep waiting, One is right on time.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
i don't want to waste your time with things that don't mean much
Good Afternoon, there are many things i have in my heart to write about but before i dive into that blissful spring of convalescence i want to say a little something to you. i don't want to waste your time. in fact, right now, right this very moment i don't want to waste anything. on this beautiful fall day with unwed sailor playing into my good ear, the plans for the night being good music and a bottle of scotch. You mean something. i can be a pretentious ass sometimes, it's not something i am proud of. i excessively use hyperbole, i embellish facts and guild the lily. but in the end i am a good man and you are too. in all truth, and you can take this as you will, you are worth more than gold. i would gladly bury all my pride and all my everything to see you in your time of desperation find the hope you need to carry on. again, i do not want to waste you or your time, i will do what i can to give things worth while please forgive me if i don't. there are things i can not grasp but i know what the heart needs, there are times i fear it but i know my fears are only the spaces in my soul where love has not yet reached. there is no fear in love.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Kiss Me Where It Hurts
I encourage everyone to check out the band The Choir - i have been digging on the Speckeled Bird Album, check out the lyrics for their song Grace :
Screamin' at the newsman
Tellin' him to take it back
I'll sue him if he won't retract
Cryin' to the hangman
Beggin' him to render slack
If I could I would go back
Will you extend me
Will you extend me grace
Just a little grace
Will you extend me
Will you extend me grace
Just a little grace
Were you talkin' to the shrubbery
Did you cut the roses down
Someone oughta till that ground
You thought I had a pure heart
, wellI thought you were an angel
, girlMercy is the silver pearl
Will you extend me
Will you extend me grace
Just a little grace...
My mother deems me ever dearI
'm less a liar than sincere
When you cut me in the alley-way
You don't have to turn that knife
I'll suffer in the afterlife
Prayin' to the Father
Sorry, did I grieve the Ghost
You're the one I love the most
Will you extend me
Will you extend me
graceJust a little grace...My mother deems me ever dear
Damn those kids are good.
Screamin' at the newsman
Tellin' him to take it back
I'll sue him if he won't retract
Cryin' to the hangman
Beggin' him to render slack
If I could I would go back
Will you extend me
Will you extend me grace
Just a little grace
Will you extend me
Will you extend me grace
Just a little grace
Were you talkin' to the shrubbery
Did you cut the roses down
Someone oughta till that ground
You thought I had a pure heart
, wellI thought you were an angel
, girlMercy is the silver pearl
Will you extend me
Will you extend me grace
Just a little grace...
My mother deems me ever dearI
'm less a liar than sincere
When you cut me in the alley-way
You don't have to turn that knife
I'll suffer in the afterlife
Prayin' to the Father
Sorry, did I grieve the Ghost
You're the one I love the most
Will you extend me
Will you extend me
graceJust a little grace...My mother deems me ever dear
Damn those kids are good.
You Were Always On My Mind
Before the second part of Act IV i am compelled to break rules and alliterate a little.
G. and i went to the public house last night and we were kings. Men watched and women swooned as we owned our little corner. It only became more so when the other mates showed up. It was a little disappointing to not have Da. there, ahh this is the way of the world... Anyway, the moral of the story is that it is easy. Easy to be loved the first time, easy to win new hearts.
What is difficult is winning the hearts of those who are not new. The common, the heart of the every day. When i got home from the pub i could only think of one thing - how do i win the heart of A. every day. New people are easy, the waitress, F. and Sa., all new, all easy. I have molded myself into someone liked and loved by most people. Simple. Be genuine, maintain eye contact, positive affirmation in the voice, pay attention, ask questions, give people the dignity of being men and women. Sometimes it is a little forced but it is easy to control.
But, like most, i find the hardest ones to love are those who i am close to. those who know me, those who i know. how do i love her well? this is the question. one of the greatest adventures i have chosen to embark on is the life long quest to learn how to love A. i remember praying about 3 years ago, pleading with the One to give me the insight i needed to continue on. then i heard it, the voice, the voice of the One, between the fire and the lightning it spoke 3 words, 3 words to change the rest of my life : Love her well. leave it to the One to say things that are infinite, simple, complex, daring, and daunting in one sentence. i can only imagine how it would have been if the One had spoke in its native tongue to me. i would have been blown to kingdom come from the simple command of Love Her Well.
i freely admit i lose sight of the command, hell, i lose sight of some of the commands i have tattooed on my body - but i always come back to them. there will probably be a blog about slinging ink but the short list of the commands i have : True Until Death. Levantate Conmigo (rise up with me). Eternal Faith, Hope, and Love. These are the commands i have in ink on my skin, the commands written on the tablet of flesh behind my ribs, written by the finger of the One are simple : Love Me, Love Them, Love Her, Love Well.
i look forward to the rest of my days, if only to spend them loving well. i am not nor will i ever be perfect. i am not called to this. i am called to love well. G. and i rapped a little last night about legacy. i don't know what the future holds but it would be forever bad ass if on my urn or inscribed on my tombstone that i was a man who loved well.
G. and i went to the public house last night and we were kings. Men watched and women swooned as we owned our little corner. It only became more so when the other mates showed up. It was a little disappointing to not have Da. there, ahh this is the way of the world... Anyway, the moral of the story is that it is easy. Easy to be loved the first time, easy to win new hearts.
What is difficult is winning the hearts of those who are not new. The common, the heart of the every day. When i got home from the pub i could only think of one thing - how do i win the heart of A. every day. New people are easy, the waitress, F. and Sa., all new, all easy. I have molded myself into someone liked and loved by most people. Simple. Be genuine, maintain eye contact, positive affirmation in the voice, pay attention, ask questions, give people the dignity of being men and women. Sometimes it is a little forced but it is easy to control.
But, like most, i find the hardest ones to love are those who i am close to. those who know me, those who i know. how do i love her well? this is the question. one of the greatest adventures i have chosen to embark on is the life long quest to learn how to love A. i remember praying about 3 years ago, pleading with the One to give me the insight i needed to continue on. then i heard it, the voice, the voice of the One, between the fire and the lightning it spoke 3 words, 3 words to change the rest of my life : Love her well. leave it to the One to say things that are infinite, simple, complex, daring, and daunting in one sentence. i can only imagine how it would have been if the One had spoke in its native tongue to me. i would have been blown to kingdom come from the simple command of Love Her Well.
i freely admit i lose sight of the command, hell, i lose sight of some of the commands i have tattooed on my body - but i always come back to them. there will probably be a blog about slinging ink but the short list of the commands i have : True Until Death. Levantate Conmigo (rise up with me). Eternal Faith, Hope, and Love. These are the commands i have in ink on my skin, the commands written on the tablet of flesh behind my ribs, written by the finger of the One are simple : Love Me, Love Them, Love Her, Love Well.
i look forward to the rest of my days, if only to spend them loving well. i am not nor will i ever be perfect. i am not called to this. i am called to love well. G. and i rapped a little last night about legacy. i don't know what the future holds but it would be forever bad ass if on my urn or inscribed on my tombstone that i was a man who loved well.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Act IV: Plan 9 aka primal
Think about the first time you heard your favorite song or band. just dwell for a momnet. good. now imagine you have MPD and have 10 different bands ann songs that fit each personality. i don't think i have MPD but i may. there are lots of songs and sounds that do what your favorite does for you. we are all like this in a little way. saturday night i heard the song again, the sound again.
the first punk album i ever owned was "anthems for a new suburbia" by the venerable fraidy cats. (let me say their illusion and glory only grows if you know G. J. T. and Z the A.) the first time i heard johnny rocket or broken surfboard i knew. like the first time you are gonna man up and kiss the girl. the first time you are gonna jump the ramp and nail it, i knew. it unraveled me and put me back together. the music spoke to me. to the primal in my soul. punk rock envelopes emotions i have that are touched by the visceral. deep things, dangerous, passionate things. and saturday night reminded me of the primal nature with in me. i am the dust of the earth and the breath of god and there is power there.
sometimes when you are warm for a long time you forget how much you need fire. i was blessed to play punk music for a long time. for a time, in two different groups, G. from the above and i played. Dero and FATF. but to observe G.'s new band along with C. P. and S. they brought me back to the flame. like a moth i was mesmerized. i almost couldn't contain myself when they broke into House of the Rising Sun. i swear i almost went up and did horrible indescribable things on the alter of punk rock. iggy pop and broken martini glass stuff. (there will be a slight break here for a reason to be disclosed when i finish)
PART TWO - Why Punk Rock?
So what is it about it, it floods my heart and veins. better than drugs. it gets into my system and rewires my brain. i know what punk rock is, i am not a punk rock warlord like G. is, i will never be. i accept this, i am something different, something i do not know. seriously punk rock has saved my life. ghoti hook, rancid, mxpx, 90 pound wuss, officer negative, ballydowse, i could literally list bands for about a page and a half. the fire of a thousand suns, your words, a river of a thousand tears. and you will taste the blood of your enemies. and then i saw you in my daughters eyes and now i cry the tears a father cries. mothers tell your children not to do what i have done. it's the story of my life.
i have seen the things of the kingdom of punk. i have been cut, stabbed, kicked, punched, bitten, bled, screamed, torn, rended, knocked down, sloshed, amped, plugged in and unplugged. all for you, all for you. punk is like my beloved country, my homeland. as we increase in globalization websites and music genres become the countries we live and die for. i have homes in many lands but the dirt in my jar comes from punk rock. take it if you dare.
the first punk album i ever owned was "anthems for a new suburbia" by the venerable fraidy cats. (let me say their illusion and glory only grows if you know G. J. T. and Z the A.) the first time i heard johnny rocket or broken surfboard i knew. like the first time you are gonna man up and kiss the girl. the first time you are gonna jump the ramp and nail it, i knew. it unraveled me and put me back together. the music spoke to me. to the primal in my soul. punk rock envelopes emotions i have that are touched by the visceral. deep things, dangerous, passionate things. and saturday night reminded me of the primal nature with in me. i am the dust of the earth and the breath of god and there is power there.
sometimes when you are warm for a long time you forget how much you need fire. i was blessed to play punk music for a long time. for a time, in two different groups, G. from the above and i played. Dero and FATF. but to observe G.'s new band along with C. P. and S. they brought me back to the flame. like a moth i was mesmerized. i almost couldn't contain myself when they broke into House of the Rising Sun. i swear i almost went up and did horrible indescribable things on the alter of punk rock. iggy pop and broken martini glass stuff. (there will be a slight break here for a reason to be disclosed when i finish)
PART TWO - Why Punk Rock?
So what is it about it, it floods my heart and veins. better than drugs. it gets into my system and rewires my brain. i know what punk rock is, i am not a punk rock warlord like G. is, i will never be. i accept this, i am something different, something i do not know. seriously punk rock has saved my life. ghoti hook, rancid, mxpx, 90 pound wuss, officer negative, ballydowse, i could literally list bands for about a page and a half. the fire of a thousand suns, your words, a river of a thousand tears. and you will taste the blood of your enemies. and then i saw you in my daughters eyes and now i cry the tears a father cries. mothers tell your children not to do what i have done. it's the story of my life.
i have seen the things of the kingdom of punk. i have been cut, stabbed, kicked, punched, bitten, bled, screamed, torn, rended, knocked down, sloshed, amped, plugged in and unplugged. all for you, all for you. punk is like my beloved country, my homeland. as we increase in globalization websites and music genres become the countries we live and die for. i have homes in many lands but the dirt in my jar comes from punk rock. take it if you dare.
Oct 11th Act III: Derby, aka Helle's Belles
so in continuation...
Holy crap roller derby is rad! i went on Saturday night to the match and it was brutal, it reminded me how much i like sport. aside from all of the cultural over and undertones that derby has it was a heckuva good time. very physical, very simple scoring system, moments of anticipation, it is everything a spectator could want in an event. There were definitely some surreal moments.
Recently i have been listening to bands like the choir and the prayer chain. very layered, textured, guitar driven. i could only think about how rad derby would be if there were some other mood elements like swank lighting and hammering riffs, not just having every third song be cake. yeah we get it, their song the distance is great for derby but if you push play one more time on that track i swear to the derby gods i will tie you up.
there was the largest cross section of stinktown population i have ever seen at an event. seriously from tux to lil john impersonator to hill billy deluxe. odd moment of the night - dude who looked like buddy holly but tried to play the national anthem like jimi. seriously dude, you can riff but you lack the ability to read the crowd and respond or you refuse to listen to your muse because she would have unplugged you, and this, this is why you will not be an entertainer, at least not right now. you will be relegated to opening up the show instead of performing half time sets. you can wail but you can not hear.
plus there was punk rock. more on this in the next act.
so derby was a great experience and i look forward to going again, i saw my friend T. it has been a long time. i am going to email T., i remember wiffle ball in the park and how hard a pepper shaker can be because of T. in my head i wonder if he can still wing the old horsehide around like we used to, T. could make my glove pop. Plus i saw M. and J. and it has been a while since i have seen them. Derby is good community, and a good time. Go SH Girls.
Holy crap roller derby is rad! i went on Saturday night to the match and it was brutal, it reminded me how much i like sport. aside from all of the cultural over and undertones that derby has it was a heckuva good time. very physical, very simple scoring system, moments of anticipation, it is everything a spectator could want in an event. There were definitely some surreal moments.
Recently i have been listening to bands like the choir and the prayer chain. very layered, textured, guitar driven. i could only think about how rad derby would be if there were some other mood elements like swank lighting and hammering riffs, not just having every third song be cake. yeah we get it, their song the distance is great for derby but if you push play one more time on that track i swear to the derby gods i will tie you up.
there was the largest cross section of stinktown population i have ever seen at an event. seriously from tux to lil john impersonator to hill billy deluxe. odd moment of the night - dude who looked like buddy holly but tried to play the national anthem like jimi. seriously dude, you can riff but you lack the ability to read the crowd and respond or you refuse to listen to your muse because she would have unplugged you, and this, this is why you will not be an entertainer, at least not right now. you will be relegated to opening up the show instead of performing half time sets. you can wail but you can not hear.
plus there was punk rock. more on this in the next act.
so derby was a great experience and i look forward to going again, i saw my friend T. it has been a long time. i am going to email T., i remember wiffle ball in the park and how hard a pepper shaker can be because of T. in my head i wonder if he can still wing the old horsehide around like we used to, T. could make my glove pop. Plus i saw M. and J. and it has been a while since i have seen them. Derby is good community, and a good time. Go SH Girls.
The Wolf Was Howling because the Moon Was On the Rise
The sun was blazing because the fire was in her eyes.
My friend G. and i had a talk yesterday that reminded me we have a lot of boy left in us, for as depraved as sometimes we can be we are utterly saved and utterly innocent. for as much as i would love to put my paw on the scruff of the young pup that busted my window (see earlier rant) i know if i got the chance to do as i vented i wouldn't. it would take a lot of depraved indifference and if that is one thing G. and i do not have it is depraved indifference. we may be depraved, we may be indifferent to some things, but we would be in rare form to be both at the same time. we care. put simply we care too much. also, we are, as men, hedonists. we know what shame is better than most because i know we have both done things so terrible that we feel guilty because shame doesn't touch us. Sometimes G. and i look upwards at shame and go "oh the wonder to feel sorry for what i have done." that's what scar tissue will do. however, we want to feel this remorse, and every so often the One will pull back the shade covering our eyes and show us a vision of the cross and we are utterly destroyed. the cross makes us boys and men again, not the seething beasts of flesh and sin we often are. the cross gives me the liberty to meet a girl and not ruin the relationship i am in or ruin anything at all, the cross gives me the liberty to laugh about a comic book or watch a horror flick. every dying gasp of Christ is a breath of life for me, every stirring of the resurrection is a promise between me and the One.
There are moons and suns.
My friend G. and i had a talk yesterday that reminded me we have a lot of boy left in us, for as depraved as sometimes we can be we are utterly saved and utterly innocent. for as much as i would love to put my paw on the scruff of the young pup that busted my window (see earlier rant) i know if i got the chance to do as i vented i wouldn't. it would take a lot of depraved indifference and if that is one thing G. and i do not have it is depraved indifference. we may be depraved, we may be indifferent to some things, but we would be in rare form to be both at the same time. we care. put simply we care too much. also, we are, as men, hedonists. we know what shame is better than most because i know we have both done things so terrible that we feel guilty because shame doesn't touch us. Sometimes G. and i look upwards at shame and go "oh the wonder to feel sorry for what i have done." that's what scar tissue will do. however, we want to feel this remorse, and every so often the One will pull back the shade covering our eyes and show us a vision of the cross and we are utterly destroyed. the cross makes us boys and men again, not the seething beasts of flesh and sin we often are. the cross gives me the liberty to meet a girl and not ruin the relationship i am in or ruin anything at all, the cross gives me the liberty to laugh about a comic book or watch a horror flick. every dying gasp of Christ is a breath of life for me, every stirring of the resurrection is a promise between me and the One.
There are moons and suns.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Act 2: Gluten, the Enemy of Man
My parents came by our new place today to make sure we weren't living in squalor and to bring us some food items being purged from their kitchen. my step dad W. is embarking on a new journey in his life which has required a gluten, dairy, and processed food free diet. there are not words good enough to describe the patience he has. i have only ever heard him raise his voice twice in twelve years. his is not my story to tell, but my story, what mine eyes have seen is fair game. and when i look upon the man W. is i can only hope to be like him. he has seen the dragon and has not flinched. if could bet on someone i would bet on him. not because he boasts the loudest, not because he has done great feats of strength or leaped tall buildings in a single bound. i would bet on W. because he lets his actions boast for him, his strength comes from the deep well of God and he has the courage to walk every step of that tall building. i am blessed to know him.
October 11, 2008 Act 1 : Don't Fuck With My Chariot
This the first Act of a series of blog entries for October 11, 2008. i am rocking a series because it is easier for me to give each portion of the day its' due diligence if i break it up. if i wasn't so drained right now i would try for one entry artfully divided but it ain't gonna happen. so let us begin... Act 1: Don't Fuck With My Chariot
i get up this morning and begin the day with a little laundry, i make sure my work clothes are in the wash because i need to be on the road around 10:45 to be at my shift at 11:15. so the day is progressing as it should, nice and easy morning no real hassle. i get all dolled up in my waiter gear and head out for my car.
let me tell you something about my car. it is the original. 1979 Oldsmobile Delta 88. this is my first car that i have bought on my own. no one helped me with money. no one else was allowed an opinion. when i saw the for sale sign in the window that was about it. love at first sight is real and it was born in Flint, Michigan. my scratch, my car.
so i am headed out to Elvis (the car has a name cooler than yours) and when i turn my head and look at the driver side door my eyes fixate on the little cubes of glass scattered on my seat and on the ground. the safety glass from 1979 would be more accurately named the illusion of safety glass. someone had busted my window, and busted it good. i know anger wouldn't cut the mustard right then but i couldn't help but to feel a little frustrated.
so i move into action, i refer to my brain trust (A.) and she confirms this is a call the cops moment. see i don't like calling the police. i understand the police officers in our town have a tremendous responsibility to protect and serve but i have had some run ins so i have some reservations. but i know shes right. i call the dispatch and the kind woman on the other end of the line confirms an officer is in route. i search for the next move, A. suggests calling the auto glass place to get the ball working on new glass. i call the shop and they set me up real quick. Elvis will have new dressings by monday at noon. next move, go to the store and grab some plastic to suffice until the start of the week. so A. and i jaunt to the bank and then to the store and i choose a selection of 4mm plastic tarp that will do the trick. we get home, after swinging by A.'s parents house for a shop vac and a little air for her tires. we get home, i clean up the glass, and i throw up the tarp. all in all it was a couple hours i would have been glad to not deal with. but, i dig it when A. and i can team up and get the job done, it's a good feeling.
here's the rub.
who the fuck thinks this goes unforgotten. what sort of low life ass hole pulls this amateur shit. i will tell you who, someone who doesn't know me. the basic conclusion A. and i have is some kids were out joy riding and putting out car windows with the louisville slugger the mommy bought them 3 birthdays ago. know thought, know panache. just random vandalism. weak shit. first of all i get the drill, my car isn't some sort of fortress, i don't keep anything of value inside and i keep the doors unlocked, so if someone wants to check out the car they can. take what you want there isn't much in there. whom ever did this did it without the intent to steal, nothing inside the cab was disturbed. so what was this? vandalism. vandalism by worms. you see vandalism by a man is the drop of the gauntlet. a man will sign his work with no regard for consequence. a man will hit you and tell you his name, will look you in the eye so you know he is your enemy. however, a worm wiggles its' way inside while you sleep and destroys without thought. no signature, no honor.
resolve. my new window will cost me $200.00. i know the cops have a losing chance at finding out who did this. who ever the culprit is better hope the officers find them before i do because if i just so happen to come across the slime who did this i am going to get my money back and i will be giving out free instruction about signing your work.
that's all i want to say about this right now.
j.
i get up this morning and begin the day with a little laundry, i make sure my work clothes are in the wash because i need to be on the road around 10:45 to be at my shift at 11:15. so the day is progressing as it should, nice and easy morning no real hassle. i get all dolled up in my waiter gear and head out for my car.
let me tell you something about my car. it is the original. 1979 Oldsmobile Delta 88. this is my first car that i have bought on my own. no one helped me with money. no one else was allowed an opinion. when i saw the for sale sign in the window that was about it. love at first sight is real and it was born in Flint, Michigan. my scratch, my car.
so i am headed out to Elvis (the car has a name cooler than yours) and when i turn my head and look at the driver side door my eyes fixate on the little cubes of glass scattered on my seat and on the ground. the safety glass from 1979 would be more accurately named the illusion of safety glass. someone had busted my window, and busted it good. i know anger wouldn't cut the mustard right then but i couldn't help but to feel a little frustrated.
so i move into action, i refer to my brain trust (A.) and she confirms this is a call the cops moment. see i don't like calling the police. i understand the police officers in our town have a tremendous responsibility to protect and serve but i have had some run ins so i have some reservations. but i know shes right. i call the dispatch and the kind woman on the other end of the line confirms an officer is in route. i search for the next move, A. suggests calling the auto glass place to get the ball working on new glass. i call the shop and they set me up real quick. Elvis will have new dressings by monday at noon. next move, go to the store and grab some plastic to suffice until the start of the week. so A. and i jaunt to the bank and then to the store and i choose a selection of 4mm plastic tarp that will do the trick. we get home, after swinging by A.'s parents house for a shop vac and a little air for her tires. we get home, i clean up the glass, and i throw up the tarp. all in all it was a couple hours i would have been glad to not deal with. but, i dig it when A. and i can team up and get the job done, it's a good feeling.
here's the rub.
who the fuck thinks this goes unforgotten. what sort of low life ass hole pulls this amateur shit. i will tell you who, someone who doesn't know me. the basic conclusion A. and i have is some kids were out joy riding and putting out car windows with the louisville slugger the mommy bought them 3 birthdays ago. know thought, know panache. just random vandalism. weak shit. first of all i get the drill, my car isn't some sort of fortress, i don't keep anything of value inside and i keep the doors unlocked, so if someone wants to check out the car they can. take what you want there isn't much in there. whom ever did this did it without the intent to steal, nothing inside the cab was disturbed. so what was this? vandalism. vandalism by worms. you see vandalism by a man is the drop of the gauntlet. a man will sign his work with no regard for consequence. a man will hit you and tell you his name, will look you in the eye so you know he is your enemy. however, a worm wiggles its' way inside while you sleep and destroys without thought. no signature, no honor.
resolve. my new window will cost me $200.00. i know the cops have a losing chance at finding out who did this. who ever the culprit is better hope the officers find them before i do because if i just so happen to come across the slime who did this i am going to get my money back and i will be giving out free instruction about signing your work.
that's all i want to say about this right now.
j.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Crushing Blow II
it's like living in a world full of cotton balls. all noises are background chatter, i can't connect with the passage of time. i lose minutes, even hours sometimes. i sit down on the couch at 5:30 then notice the hands of the clock passing 8:45. it's always twilight or dawn. somewhere in the half light. then the drugs where off and the world becomes sharp again, a world of knives and hammers. my vision corrects as my pupils undialate. it's hard to swim with the flood of awareness, if the people in the desks close by are watchful they can see me wince as i realize i waited too long between doses. take action. hold tab down and turn. undo the capsule and coat tongue in bitter powder. if you imagine hard enough it is a pixie stick, a really crappy pixie stick. swallow. eat capsule for good measure, who knows how much precious drug is left in there. wait. 5. 10. 15. minutes and the tide begins to go out. i only break the pills open when i need the fix quick. the voices around me dim, they become lanterns at the lighters call. the blazing reality settles behind the mountains. the world becomes cotton again. hopefully i can pay attention better the next go round.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Sorrow of Man
the copper taste of shame is racing through my mouth as i realize the contempt i have shown for some people. the list would be too long for this arena and the short stabbing punch to my psyche i want this to be. in the end i need to treat every man as my brother or father and every woman as my sister or mother. then i realize i haven't treated my family well either... how about try to treat everyone as i treat myself, if you haven't realized yet that would make everyone royalty. i am maligned by hubris it is the sorrow of man.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Crushing Blow
Today the pain rains down like hammers and anvils. With an almost audible destruction my right trigeminal nerve marches across my face without remorse. It is days like these when i wish i had the courage to examine my situation more and drink the cup i was poured.
in baseball terms it is called a balk...you start the wind up then stop. a stutter step, a flinch, a second thought and the runner moves up and instead of double play territory you have to drop into preservation mode. they have told me brain surgery would potentially silence the hammers and anvils. it could also silence the beauty of art through my right eye, it could dull the kiss on the cheek from a friend, or the pain an honorable enemy could deal me. in short, brain surgery scares the hell out of me. i ignore it but it still lingers there, they put the scalpel to my head the moment they said the words. i am not upset with the doctors, i am not angry about the cards i have been dealt (at least not today), in fact i am not really angry, i am just afraid. i don't know how to play this hand and this is really rare. i have pitches for this batter but i can't pull the trigger. i stand on the mound, lights ablaze, not a huge crowd in attendance but enough to create a pensive stir as i delay. i got a big hitter in the box and i know my stuff ain't great tonight.
i am sorry for all of the allegory and metaphors. i have trigeminal neuralgia : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trigeminal_neuralgia. most days it is controlled fairly well with a prescription neuropathic pain killer. It takes the edge off at least, changing the pain scale from hurting so bad i wish i would just pass out to hurting bad enough to make me wince. It also reduces the occurrences of really bad episodes when it feels like lightning bolts are blowing through my jaw. what an introduction huh? my e.n.t. gave me a shot about 3 weeks ago that helped, the needle placed into my upper jaw, under my lip but deep enough to go through bone and to where it can get to the nerve. i would get that shot every day if i could but i am allowed one every 3 weeks so i can get another one hopefully this week.
more to come, J.
in baseball terms it is called a balk...you start the wind up then stop. a stutter step, a flinch, a second thought and the runner moves up and instead of double play territory you have to drop into preservation mode. they have told me brain surgery would potentially silence the hammers and anvils. it could also silence the beauty of art through my right eye, it could dull the kiss on the cheek from a friend, or the pain an honorable enemy could deal me. in short, brain surgery scares the hell out of me. i ignore it but it still lingers there, they put the scalpel to my head the moment they said the words. i am not upset with the doctors, i am not angry about the cards i have been dealt (at least not today), in fact i am not really angry, i am just afraid. i don't know how to play this hand and this is really rare. i have pitches for this batter but i can't pull the trigger. i stand on the mound, lights ablaze, not a huge crowd in attendance but enough to create a pensive stir as i delay. i got a big hitter in the box and i know my stuff ain't great tonight.
i am sorry for all of the allegory and metaphors. i have trigeminal neuralgia : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trigeminal_neuralgia. most days it is controlled fairly well with a prescription neuropathic pain killer. It takes the edge off at least, changing the pain scale from hurting so bad i wish i would just pass out to hurting bad enough to make me wince. It also reduces the occurrences of really bad episodes when it feels like lightning bolts are blowing through my jaw. what an introduction huh? my e.n.t. gave me a shot about 3 weeks ago that helped, the needle placed into my upper jaw, under my lip but deep enough to go through bone and to where it can get to the nerve. i would get that shot every day if i could but i am allowed one every 3 weeks so i can get another one hopefully this week.
more to come, J.
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