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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.