Dreams

It is Sunday, December Sixth, 2009. Today is the day i was going to kill myself. i was going to go to early mass, then to margies to grab one last grass hopper (it's a coffee with mint and chocolate in it), then to late service at Christ Community Church. i was going to come home, do some light cleaning, vaccuum, pick up, finish off my laundry, love on the mutts and then i was going to write. i was going to write a few letters to those who were going to need them - mom, dad, friends, loves, A., G., probably a letter for the One. i wasa going to write one last time here, signing off for good. i was going to hang the letters in a nice little bag on the front door, a little note for A. to not come down stairs when she got home in the morning. starting around 11pm i was going to take the last dose of my meds i would ever take, flushing the rest of them. then i would pray, i would have prayed like i have never prayed before. Gethsemane prayers. sweating blood prayers, take this cup from me prayers. the idea was to start around 5am. kss the dogs goodbye. cry tears with them as i puthem in their kennels. start the bath tub with cold water, bring the ice down stairs and fill the tub with them, the cold water splashing would be the last sounds ever to ring in my ears, not a shame but a tad deflating for someone who gave so much to music and to prayers, and to sound, but the splashing would have been peaceful and a good sense of finality. i would have stripped down to all but my jeans and the razor blade in my hand. stepping in and lying down would have been the hardest part, next to putting the letters on the door and locking the mutts up. it would all be easy now, with one last breath of prayers i was going to cut my arms with vertical lacework crossing all the major veins and arteries. as i bled out the flashbacks would begin. my life in the beautiful technicolor of the mind.





fortunately none of this has, or will happen.





when i was at my lowest i shared the plan with G. who is part of the body of Christ and thus is Christ here on earth. now i know i have to believe this for it to be true, and if only then true in my own mind. and in the heavenly form G. stalled my icey blood bath. but to be fair he only had a part to play as there was a second part to my rescue.





Thursday morning i had a dream, my grand father LA and i were in a snowball fight with a couple of young kids. that was the whole dream. LA is, to my best knowledge, 86 years old, and has never been in a snowball fight in his life. It was in this dream i realized who i am. who i have always been, i am a dreamer.





for most of my life i have faught to know who i am. i have tried to fit into a hundred different molds. trying to cram my character into convention, trying to make everyone around me happy. i have altered who i am to get what i want or to make someone else feel an emotion. i have been a permanent con artist for years. but this gift of being able to be the chameleon stopped being something i use to being something that used me. i have been afraind since before i can remember. i just searched my memories for the start of this acting race and i can't find it. i think of girls i wanted, to parents and teachers i wanted to please. i am lost, i was lost. there is no doubt of one thing though: i remember my first honest prayer.





i was thirteen, D.S. was talking to a room full of kids, tears streaming down his face, just that week one of the kids in the group had shot himself. D. was supposed to meet with him and he had to rearange the meeting due to a conflict in the schedule. he blamed himself and out of this out pouring of genuine emotion he pleaded with us to let the light of the One into our hearts. it was then i quietly prayed in the back of the room to do so.





to think today was the day i was going to forcably extinguish the light in my heart here on earth. i don't know what all this means but i know it means something to someone.





i have tried to kill myself one other time. that time it wasn't planned out like this one was, i was over flowed with emotions i couldn't understand, i had the gun in my mouth, finger on the trigger, when i felt an angelic presence with me move the gun away from me head, down to the ground. i cried. i cried because i was in the presence of the divine, i cried because i was to weak to follow through, i cried for everything that night. i am sure i would have done the same tonight.





*****



i don't know what happens tomorrow. i wasn't supposed to have it. i have stolen a car, i have done cocaine, i have played in a punk rock band, i have praised the One, i have done many things. i don't think i am supposed to know what is to happen tomorrow. but i know that i am a dreamer. i am not a mathametician. i am not the world's greatest speller, not the world's greatest lover or fighter. i am not many things. but i am myself and i will do what i will do.

there is a chance i get gunned down tomorrow, maybe i have to do the gunning. i know i have to let go of this obsessive need to know things, i will never know them all.

i am not sure how to end this. i am tired. i am 26 years old and i have given more than i thought i would all of my life. icarus thy aim is true.

Gypsy Heart

"The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the spirit."


More than often I write about the pains of life. I have an advantage in writing about these woes, being keenly aware of them because of my neurological disease. This disorder is a companion that talks too much. It often shouts and screams, causing me to write about the humdrudgeries and boondoggles of the world. About pain, suffering, about the whys and why nots, the philosophical enigmas encasing the human condition. What is not written about, what is silenced by the disease, is the heart, my heart, my gypsy heart.

My girlfriend A. has stood by me, faithful and true, for years now, hopefully for the next 100 years. She not only loves me well, she loves me. Me in all of my goodness, she loves me in all of my brokeness, she loves my gypsiness. And i love her the same.

There was also someone before A. that had a major impact on my life. Like many of the important people in a man's life, that important someone was a woman.

It was my freshman year of college and, to sum up how my formative teenage years had already gone, I was the poster kid for a cool, Evangelical Christian. I knew the Bible backwards and forwards, I listened to underground spiritual music, and there was, and is, no doubt I had faithful connections to the being the world calls God. I do not waiver on the idea that many of the things I have now are the result of those teen years, many good things and many trying things. But this is all stage setting - remember freshman year of college, 17 years of old, the confidence of knowing everything about my life, and now staring into the unhinged world of life without borders. A recipe if I have ever heard of one, but a recipe for what?

So one August afternoon I walk in 3 minuted late to Shakespear class. The professor read me a short but funny riot act as I found my seat. The process of finding a seat became a very short but illmuminating experience. I looked up and saw one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen. Remember this is how a 17 year old would look at the world, always ready for a Summer love. Her name was S. and she was a little older than me and she was the first person I had met with a gypsy heart. And like all gypsy hearts they have a transfering, magnetic personality. Gypsy Hearts uncover other gypsies and they make others feel warm when they are around. Needless to say my 17 year old self fell pretty hard for S. but it wasn't to last the way it started. Not to worry though, S. and I are still friends, my love A. knows S. and I are friends and, if I recall, A. has talked to S. and they are friendly and I think they understand what it means to have a gypsy heart.

All of this, all of this, is a conduit to talk about the real subject, the Gypsy Heart. The Gypsy Heart is the beating of the drums of tribes in Africa, America, everywhere music is played for the love and the need to talk to the world - and those things beyond the world.

I want to get some of the more controversial things I want to say out of the way. I am a committed Christian, I believe everyone will be saved, I believe God is big enough to hold all belief systems together and not be contradictiry. The issue most will draw is this. If A=B and B=C then A=C, people will apply this to spirituality, which is fine, I just don't believe it myself. I believe this portion is included but not everything. Logical spirtuality is highly illogical when dealing with God which is beyond all understanding. However, logic will also reveal portions of God. I hope I have been clear as well as infuriating and intriuging. This was my intent. If you understand what I just said then you will enjoi at least one word in this sentence.

I will go deeper into beliefs later on but I needed to get some of those things out of the way before we got into some of the things Gypsy Heart. This is the heart that calls sailors to the sea, it calls people to be physical therapists, it calls some to be carpenters - the gypsy heart starts with a gypsy spirit, and a gypsy spirit comes from nowhere and leads to somewhere but it is all untold, it is the spirit that does not answer the question why.

The Gypsy Heart, which is the heart touched by the Gypsy Spirit, is the breath of life. It is almost hard to say exactly what should come next in this introduction to the Gypsy Heart. I had to think about it for a long moment. Then it came to me, why not give an example of someone who had a Gypsy Heart.

Richard Wayne Mullins was perhaps the greatest songwriter in all of Christendom. Rich passed from this world in 1997. Rich could have won any award in music that he wanted. He could have one a Grammy award every year. He could have had millions of dollars. His name could have been on marquees nationwide. He could have had whatever he wanted in the music industry yet he chose to have a different life. Instead of glamour he chose a paupers existance. He didn't do this because of obligation to some holier than thou character, he lived the life dictated by his heart. His heart said live on a Hoppe Indian reservation and teach the children to sing. His heart said travel the world giving away your friend's best pair of boots to someone without shoes. I hope the theme is coming through, His Heart said, His Heart said, His Heart said. His Heart had been touched by the Gypsy Spirit and that what all that touched him.

So there it is, the Gypsy Spirit, which turns hearts into Gypsy Hearts. The Gypsy Spirit goes where it wants to, touches who it wants to - and that's okay. Some hearts will not be touched by the Gypsy Spirit, this is allright, if the whole world was filled with gypsies life would be very, very hard - also more on this later. But the meat of this meal is the Gypsy Heart, the Gypsy Spirit, and those who have felt this powerful drawing.

A quick word, when a gypsy heart is ignored it can be dangerous. I mean it can be dangerous anyways, as it goes where it pleases, but a heart ignored, especially a heart that has experienced the fire of the Gypsy Spirit can go very, very cold.

So I encourage you who are of the same cloth as I, don't let your heart run cold. Your nature, the nature of the Gypsy Heart, the nature of the Gypsy Spirit, your calling will hound you if ignored. Like the ghosts who sniffed out Scrooge, the call will be on your scent and to shake it off the trail will make a long, cold life.

So stick with me, keep your heart open, be ready to ask the deep questions, and be ready to explore these deep things, these Gypsy things.

when did this storm roll in?

i have four tattoos. not really a large amount, not near enough. each tattoo i have has a saying with it. (i have heard the artists don't like this, preferring the art do the speaking but yeah for now i got words.) These words are:

*Party Animal*

*Faith, Hope, Love*

*True Until Death*

*Rise Up With Me*

They're pretty good words.

i don't know why i start there. with the words that can never leave me. i guess those words become my reality. an architecture i can cling to when the path is undiscovered or when the path is both undiscovered and dangerous. these words are like my talismans. i need more.

i got home last night and was promptly served court papers, i am being sued. it's a bit better today, i called the plaintiff and we are trying to get a resolution going so legal action doesn't have to be taken against me. delightful.

i hate money, it stresses me out, and normally a human would be able to handle this moderately difficult struggle. but like Grandmaster Flash - don't push me because i am close to the edge. this sort of stuff stacks with having a painful medical condition, i won't dive into that now, like i said a stacking effect.

this stack came to the edge last Sunday night. i had a minor pyschotic break where doing and morality didn't meet eye to eye. i am glad G. was there for me. i remember one moment of clarity where my razor blade, the bathtub and cold water looked real good. it was just a brief moment but it was there. i know my reaching out to G. was a cry for help. if it comes time there will be no communication. that's what the psychologists don't get, a suicide prevention phone list won't mean shit when no one gets a call. and if i ever get to that place where it all makes sense, and it is my time, there will be no contacts. i ain't after attention, i ain't after revenge, i am after relief.

i think that's hard for some people. shit it's hard for me. five short days after my breakdown i see how crazy it was. how dangerous i could be. people think i am tough when i am not completely cluckered out of my gourd, there is no measure of how much destruction could occur during a moment when i have lost it. that's looking into the well of madness and trying to measure the bottom. i am both shamed this is in me and i know how much i need help.

you should have known what is real by now, let the judges meet their maker. rings softly in my ear.

i know i am a good man, faithful, true, poor but hardworking. never afraid, full of love, hope, in times full of mirth, i lead others to the best in themselves and i am always dicovering the best in me. i am almost brought to tears thinking about that. about how the very best in me could be overwhelmed in just a moment by the very worst of humankind. one fit of rage, one moment where i go over the edge.

but this is my commitment to myself and to those good people in my life - i am going to at least try to go back for professional help. i want as many tools as i can have to keep the monster at bay.

i am full of stoke right now

So that's how it goes, i haven't been up to doin' this in a while. let me do this in two parts. i have a friend, let's say he's my brother, he's got two sides, virtue and vice. this one is gonna be virtue. the one later today is going to be vice. and what i mean by that is this: the shit has really hit the fan but you can't cover your mind and eyes in shit, if you do you will invarriably think like crap, you will see like crap, and you will live like crap. so for this one, this post, it is the sunlight.

*******************************************

i get a call from my friend G. a few days ago and a few words he said have hung around my neck like thick incense. "i am full of stoke." i love it. i haven't heard words like this for years. you gotta remember we are broken men and women living in broken times. we rarely see miracles and when we do they are small and we are far away in the back of the crowd. But this time, these past few weeks my friend G. seems to have made his way closer to the front lines. it took giving up everything he's got but he made it up there to the front. and it just so happens that the miracle the One was doing on this particular day was making fire. and a tiny coal from that holy fire fell into my friends heart.

it has been sometime since one of my circle has even warmed themselves. we are either off on flameless treks or praying for fire, our wishlist words bouncing off the cealing. what my little crew knows intimately is the One gives when It is ready - and It is right. we may starve ourselves but that doesn't necessarily mean we will be fed. even when you are doin' right it doesn't really mean a damn thing, you gotta be there, up near the front, when the One is makin' fire. and this time G. was.

so i get a phone call, i don't answer for some painful reason, i get a messge. i listen to said message and all i can hear is a ramble of fire soaked words. there isn't meaning in most of it, G. might have actually been speaking in tongues, i truly don't remember. what i do recall is that through all this lava laced gibericious was the interpretation i received - the only words i heard wear "I am full of stoke." Never, Never, have i felt fire from heaven through a voicemail. but i knew at that point inside G.'s heart was the fire of the One.

now i know i am a bastard, but before a bastard i am a mate and mates don't get jealous over what gifts are given to their mates. i couldn't have been more blessed by any other words at that moment. "I am full of stoke" you could smell the rich, pungent, beautiful, smell comin' off G. - and that through the phone! i know if i was there with him i would have been struck stupid by the glory of the heavenly garland about him.

so why the hell is this so important? well first it is important for G. i know his heart, at least as well as a brother can, and i know it has been winter there for a long time, a little coal, a little fire goes a helluva long way for him. secondly, i got to be near it, now i won't say get because sharing isn't requried - now i know he's a sharing sort because that's how mates are - but there can not be force. you force thigns like this and the fire can die. it's about doing what's right, and through this ease i got at least a little warmer. and a little warmer for me is like the lion and the lamb.

so here's to being full of stoke. here's to mirth! here's to kings being born in mangers, here's to gifts of gold, incense and mirh, here's to a miracle of fire which comes by way a miracle of blood, for all not some.

stories

two mornings ago i dreamed of heaven. of course to get to heaven i also had to dream of dying. i also dreamed of getting to heaven. i am still seeping all i can from these dreams.

i remember death being sudden. i remember broken concrete with rybar sticking out. crashing, danger. there were terrible shouts and screams, but it was quick. broken metal, glass, a profound sense of fear and loss so empty my heart was broken. i remember my eyes flashing across those of my father as it was not his time yet. i don't remember my mom being there, i am both happy and sad about this. she probably would have wanted to be near me at the moment when i would breath my last on this plane. she probably also wouldn't want to witness the tragedy of a son dying before his mother. both sadness and joy.

i think of those who were near me. A. and her family, i think of how i was unable to help them after the accident. how they made it on their own, and how A. needed help because i froze. how that is okay, we all need help being saved. chasms and such. death was so quick. not as fast as lightning, more similar to horse race speed. there was both blistering action and moments of hesitation. such an interesting feeling.

and after dying we had to get to where ever it was we were headed. the thing i remember most was the door. and when i say door think of it as more of a hatch. like the iron lid on old locamotives powered by steam, the porthole to the coal. on the front of this door, it must have been 3 or 4 feet in diameter, were words, "Those who wear Abercrombie & Fitch Beware." the words scared me. the sent tremors through me and through my wardrobe. i only owned one shirt from the company mentioned on the iron hatch. the issue wasn't with the shirt. it was about arrogance. it was about the desire to be seen. to be the centre, to be valued, it was about letting go, abandoning control.

on the other side of the door were coals. the coals of control. to be free i needed to step through the hatch onto the coals. i knew my destination lay beyond them. unlike most of my life i found myself only in socks. no shoes whatever. i had to step my way through the hatch onto burning coals. i had to let go. this wasn't some fire trick in hawaii either. they weren't coals that had ash on them. they were deep fire colored, ready to teach my socks, and my feet, a lesson. the first step wasn't as hard as the second, which turned out to be the hardest. my first foot came down and i could feel the heat. my brain told me no. so i did the opposite. i put my next foot down. the fire burned through my socks like newspaper. i was standing on top of fire. the heat around me was blasting, like the desert in a wind storm. i saw others walking too, the fire was cavernous, bigger than i had originally thought.

i quickly noticed all that was destroyed by the coals were my socks. so i walked. i don't know for how long or for how short. it may have been 5 minutes or 3 hours. i know i saw many people walking, never close to me, always a quarter mile or so off. i am sure they were all dealing with the fires of the heart.

at one point i remember looking up and seeing a doorway. there was a heavenly attendent beconing me, ushering me to the finality of my walk across the coals. when i reached the door and stepped through i knew i was in heaven, or at least a place close to it. A. was there, though i hadn't seen her since the Iron Hatch, her family was there, my step father, W., was there, G. was there. i recognized many people. the place was something like a peaceful airport terminal. it was clean, artful, modern but different. both calm and busy, both quiet and loud. there was activity in different areas, while in others there was stillness. many people were calmly sitting near potted plants, reading, or enjoying what looked like to be the first relaxed moment they had ever experienced. on the other hand, there were those over filled with emotion. tearful reunions, excitement, lost loves holding each other for the first time in a long time. i remember being extra emotional, crying, embracing, making a bit of a scene, hey it's what i do. i felt like i was free, like i was able to finally be who i knew i should be and wanted to be all at the same time.

shortly, as i recall, after i arrived, another friend arrived that i knew. LCP was a little dazed. it was then that i knew this dream was about heaven. it was about the kingdom of the One. LCP's presence brought it all home. like the crescendo of a poem - that one line that sticks out in your mind, the one that ties the bow so pretty just before the denouement.

* * * * *

and that was all. i woke up from the dream. or maybe i didn't. i think the reality of our dreams are just as valid as the reality of the cards dealt face up on the table. our dreams are the down cards in a 7-Card stud game.

so what now? i don't know particularly. there was something real about this one. there has been something real about these past few years, but there has also been something lacking. actually there has been something lacking from the moment the One dreamed me up a half a million years ago. there is something lacking in the heart of humans. it is what makes us not the One. it is the Are. we are unable to confidently define us as Being, we are not the I Am, and this is what we lack. we get the rest; food from the tree of life and the tree of knowledge but this food does us no good for the hunger, the deep Hunger, and because we will never, well at least for a long time, be able to call ourselves the Are, the definitive, our divine hunger will grow.

so we have this little bit, these little gifts, and we have hunger. so i come up with two questions: What am i doing with the little i was given? and How is my Hunger?

Days

i watched the first snow of the season today. i am thankful for that. i also got to see my team win a tight game in the first round of the MLB playoffs. i am also thankful for that. i got to talk to my dad, my A., my dogs, i got to wake up today, i didn't get shot and other major tragedies didn't strike. i am thankful for all of these things today. you have to say your thankyous before you let the rope go.


my face and head have hurt since monday afternoon. i am scared i am runnign out of FMLA time, and i am never scared. congratulations sickness you have painted me into the corner. i can't fight you, you have no body to strike, i can not reason with you, you have no mind, i can not plead with you, you have no heart, you are worse than the devil. at least the devil will look you in the eye and lie. you, you, you bastard child of the fall, i hate you. you make things in me no man can make, no woman can cause, no devil or angel can conjure. if i could put my hands on you i would strangle you. i thought of taking my eye out last night i have a knife and a heart able to do so. i thought of going into the emergency room and sticking that knife in my belly just to get somepain killers better than what i got. i can't sleep anymore but if i could get some anesthesia, every day, that would be better.

so what will it be!? you sickness, will you take my soul?? no, you can have my mind, you can have my body, but you can not have my essence! you may have me in the corner, you may have me over the barrel in the back alley, but you can not rape me if i enjoy it! you can not rape me if i ask you to penetrate me! so there it is, fuck me! fuck me you sickness! give it to me as hard as you can! make me hurt, make me feel the horror! make me blind and teary eyed with pain! make me want the end of all things! but see this is the trade, i want you to hurt me so now you do not control me! i want the pain so you do not afflict me, hurt me!

Goodbye Angel, Hands In Your Pockets

i think about jamming on keys to see if words fall out of the heavens. theoretically a room full of monkies with typewriters could, could, punch out a copy of Hamlet or Wordsworth. An Elephant with a paintbrush could roll out a Picasso or Monet, and a tomb sucking rabbit could accidentally jump on a bass guitar cranking out licks that would make Victor Wooten cry. Chances are. Chances aren't.


There's some strange concept rolling about humanity telling us that to survive we have to suck up all of our insanity, pack it away into a closet, and take a deep breath of reality. We either have to get training to do something, an education for the future, or we have to do what we are so gifted to do that we survive on it. If we choose not to follow suit we are outcast, we are homeless, we die early. So there are your chances, you pack it up, you go a bit nutty, you drown in the destruction of your own making.


then i remember, we are not monkies, we are not elephants, we are no tomb smoking hop-a-longs - we are something different, well maybe different. we may have something called "sentience" but we hardly understand it. we have insisted on hurtling ourselves head long into the unknown. And when we dip our cups into the unknown there are magical times when we come up with gold. The Magna Carta, the Frank Lloyd Wrights, the Who's. There are also times when we dip our cups into the darkness and come up with the meanest dross. Rapes, murders, discontent. The sickness of our world. Additionally, there are some who choose not to dip their cup. They stick with the things they know. And last, certainly not least, their are some who train themselves to live on the edge of the darkness. They are the craft makers. this is how we have done ourselves.


so we take our cues from what we have seen. we argue on glowing screens, we allow our views to over run us. we are on the cusp. we have these gifts, we create our beauties and our tragedies. and God is both brought to tears of joy and tears of pain. freedom, sentience, opportunity; all of these are the gifts given us, and what have we done with it? how far have we gotten?


i have rewritten this line about five times now. i do not know what is coming next. i am torn between throwing the computer into pieces and taking a pious stance on top of some bullshit pulpit. i remember that i am in pain. i wonder if pain is part of my sentience. part of my freedom. anyone reading this blog regularly know that i am in tremendous pain most of the time. this pain may or may not be attributed to a nerve disorder that is blowing up the nerves in my face and potentially my right arm. the last time i asked the doctor what he is treating me for, he basically said he has no idea. i take 5400mg of anti seisure, anti pain, anti psychotics a day. they help - sometimes.


so here i am, trying to make it, treading water on the edge of darkness. dipping my cup into the black, looking for something to quench my thirst.

Bullets

What are we? One shots of destruction, ephemeral, paper thin. We practice the art of never. Don't be worried. i don't think i will ever try again, twice is enough. i know it hurts abouve my cheak, it makes me cry which is hard to do. there must be equity somehow, i am not sure i am in control of it, actually i am pretty sure i am not, i just choose which doors to walk through. like those adolescent mystery novels where each new page says go here, choose this or that. right now the choice will be bed. it has been long in coming. i have been up and down and in the middle tonight. i don't know what is inside me. it boils my blood, and blood runs everywhere in the body. everything i have is gassed. the levy is dry.

so roll the dice one more time, if you gotta die, die chasing the dream, there's no where else that i'd rather be.

My Mercury's In Retrograde

As i sit eyes behind the plastic red haze from my snowboarding goggles i realize i can do anything, i am falling down the rabbit hole. nothing is within my grasp in this tunnel, i am a sick sinner, i need the righteous wheel of the One. will the wheel come, is the wheel here all ready? do you feel the trension on the line, do you see me falling? am i worth more than a sparrow? am i worth more than a sparrow? am i the sparrow who falls to the ground?

my mercury is in retrograde. i am falling, i am the sparrow who falls to the ground. you see me, i fall, you see me i fall, you see me i fall.

Gears

i am troubled. i feel like everything i do either interfers with the mechanisms of God or the mechanisms of the world. imagine trhowing a silver dollar into the workings of a great clock, some people want a purpose, i need one. i feel battered, bruised and kicked about. and in a weird twist of irony i don't feel good about feeling that way, like i am guilty of some sin i don't know of because i feel like shit. There i said it, i feel like shit, i don't know what will make me feel better, i don't really want to listen to any answers, i just want shit fixed. and some cockamamey asshole tells me the best way to get what you want is to live this way and that and do this dog and pony show - well le'me tell you something you toupee wearing ass hat, i don't fucking play that way.

remember that silver dollar thrown into the big clock mechanism, my purpose is to bring those gears to a screaching halt or be destroyed. armageddon here i come.

Season At Sea aka Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away

it is another day, i saw the sunset and i saw it rise, i know for a fact that now it is light outside and at one point it was dark. i slept some when it was dark but i didn't sleep through all of the darkness. i know in terms of words today is yesterday's tomorrow and today is tomorrow's yesterday, at least in accepted circles these words mean something. i know our understanding of the world is trapped in words, and before words there were pictures, this is language and it is the framewaork of basically everything.

along with language there is time. the impenetrable son of God. that's the only way time could exist, something so elusive yet so engrossing. i watch the seconds tick away on my clock. it is all a mess in my mind. if i never die then seconds shouldn't matter too much to me. so living forever is the only way to beat time on the Western front, but how about the Eastern war? if i was born then i am closed in by the days and numbers, trapped in what the want to lable me. August 30th, 1983, that's how they begin measuring. someone a long time ago started counting days when they noticed produce grew differently during different times of the year. they were not content just to feel the change in the weather, those someones figured counting the days would help in preperation. then another person, probably a woman with a man taking credit, decided we had years along with days, and in that year there can be months. it all began with days, there was ngiht and there was morning, the next day. and just like my experience of time, the clock starting at my birth, time as we know it was born when days began, it's lineage then exploding in both directions until we had along with days - years, decades, centuries, hours, minutes, and seconds.

so at birth i came into a world with language and time. now i couldn't tell time or know i was a part of it and i couldn't understand language or tell i was now a player in the world of words but in both instances what i did not know then is now arresting the world.

so we (i) are (am) pressed to ask, what came first, language or time? i don't have an answer and because i don't have an answer i default to the path of less resistance, both are children of the One so neither has beginning or end. so both time and language are my brothers. but wait, this is appaling to logic - how can you claim time and language as your brothers if you were born? doesn't birth preclude you to a beginning and death prove a finite end? well, it is going to depend a lot on how close of a relationship you have to language for my answer to make much sense. the second part of the querry is a shorter answer so to begin there, in simplicity, i am eternal. there is nothing in my way in that direction. and as to the being born issue, true there is a birth certificate with some numbers written on it, things that talk about me, and my mother, and my father. what do those numbers mean though? if my brother time has the same rate of growth as i do? if his explosion in numbers is mearly an illusion of our measurements then both time and i have pulled off a great trick saying i had a finite beginning. i was before the day i was born, i was one hundred and fifty years before i was born. before there was mankind i was born. isn't time a fascinating thing.

so on to the crux of the issue today. along with time and language i have a few other companions with me, the most labouring is pain. yesterday it felt as though someone was trying to take my arm and face off with a pool cue. but here it is, and drink this in for all of you who are fascinated by time and language. all the pain of yesterday is now related to time and language, as without them the pain does not exist. and if they are eternal, if language and time goes on forever then the pain can either last forever or never exist at all. what is a drop of water to an eternally growing ocean. if even said drop came with a flag it may never be seen again. to tell the truth sometimes the pain is so bad i need to leave the flags in the ocean i know, somewhere deep down inside, those are the flags in an eternal ocean.

there is and is not language and time. similarly there is and is not me.

Hearts

i am not sure exactly why i get the fealings i do. maybe it's because i don't really trust other people, maybe i don't really trust myself. i don't know what crazy is so i can't say i am crazy, but i do know what broken is and i know i've got some of that. it's a funny thing what insecurity can do, what a lack of control can do. is it right to miss control, is it wrong to want easy, lazy, control? i guess so.

there really aren't a lot of good answers for the questioning mind. maybe none at all.

Sunset Soon Forgotten

i typically don't ruthlessly steal from those who share in the craft but on this occasion i must give credit and due thanks to Sam Beam who contributed the title to this entry.

i go to places not normally visited, not always dark, not even foreign - this indicating a place just strange to me - i go places where people don't live and rarely venture to. if i could i would not go, alas, when my ship departs from port i, at times, have very little control over her.

i want even less control.

i want my hands off the rigging, i want the sails to fly, and me, this ships happy passenger, enjoying the voyage to unknown worlds. and though some of these worlds cause me woe, though there may be struggle, every night i retire and go to those other places where i am free.

what is freedom, what is truth?

food has flavor today, music has melody and harmony, art has vision, words have meaning - and so do i - so do you. and meaning has less to do with the internal self than we want to recognize or believe. the disease i have, in fact my whole life, has been about how i am feeling, how i am geared for me. i need to let go of more of that type of self centrism. don't get me wrong, a healthy inside, brain, heart, guts, is a good thing. it gets bad when self becomes the centre. so here i stand, a tad bit more away from the centre of what i know, it feels a little scary, a little naked, a little of a lot of things i don't feel. i didn't feel, maybe a smile that isn't about conning somebody is coming to my mouth.

Direction

i find myself fumbling through pre mixed radio stations hoping to find a track i like. onc efound i know i will be hitting the repeat button for the next little while. i have to have a soundtrack as i write. i don't really love words enough to put them down in times like these. actually, i don't really love anything that passionately. shamefully i am not really passionate about anything. shameful that is, downright shameful.

i think back, when was i really passionate? not just some washed up, trumped up plea for someone else's or something's love? when was it i last moved out of my own heart? when there wasn't a god to please, no love to abide in, no other person to try and manage, no rent? i think i am asking when was i last a child? i think i was ruined when i was and under the play ground equipment with that little girl. ruined since 4, fodder for the fires that eat the spewed lukewarm. what wakes up my heart?

more specifically, my damn heart wants me to be lit alive with something that doesn't warrent fire or cell - the problem is i don't have a fucking clue what that is. the things that bring me spirit, those things that make my heart race, make me seem alive - those things are the things i am not supposed to want. yet the things that some people say are supposed to make me come alive - those are the things i hate the most. truly grace was made for men like me. but yet i feel as though i shouldn't revel in my shame or continue in those ways, i just don't see the good in doing any better.

as i type this i can't help but to look at my skeleton fingers in the light of the computer screen, the veins wrapping them in a thin, green, vascularity. i may not have been healthy before all of this but the drugs and the sickness have taken a toll on me. i may be okay for one battle but i would be shit in a war right now. i get this horrible sinking ffeeling that i am not goodenough for anybody, that noone i am ith will ever be getting the upside of the deal. how could anyone benefit falling for a two timing, druggie, a gambler with control issues, who would rather fight, think he's right, who hates most living and walkin, can't stand himself, self loathing, self righteous ass? i may paint it a little bleak - but all of those things are me, maybe not all at the same time but those are all my adjectives lined up. i know there are some qualities not listed but fuck all, i ain't about that right now. this one's about how i am fucked and need a real heart.

like the tin man, like the scarecrow, the cowardly lion, pinnochio, i need something. i need an epiphany moment where from thence i will need no other answers - i have never had one. i have had the lies of one, those which i self manufacture, moments i generated in my mind, imaginations of those moments that change everyone else's lives. i think everyone needs one, or multiple of those moments. i won't tell you how many of those in the world have't had them but you know there are a lot of them. the only difference between them and me is i need one, i want one. i want a moment that opens me up, pulls me forth and says "this one is yours, drink every drop and be forever changed."

i guess for now i will wait with my broken compass, i sleep with shoes and pants on so when he comes i will follow, i just can't hear his calling. i feel like i wait for my groom that will never come. and that while i keep my oil wet and wick trimmed everyone else sucks the teet spiggot on the barrel labled fat of the land. so i lose it and spill som eoil, i cut the wick too low, i just get scarred every now and then, that you aren't coming, or not coming through for me. i get so low that there are times where i convince myself that's true and that makes me want to end it all, especially if it doesn't mean anything.

i am sick in the head. sick the heart. sicin the soul. i need healing omr that foous font,i just don't know where it is. and basically fuck those assholes who say some cheesy shit like "oh you're stand in it" insert putrid grin here. just a moment, a moment in the right direction, is all i need.

Morning Light and The Sea Of Need

My legs and feet shake with pestilent nerves, uncontrollably out of the reach of rational exposure. There is very little that stops my constant twitching. No one can live constantly on the awares, ready for attack or action, i believe i will die soon. i don't know why, the wary nerves in my body are frayed and teased like the bottom of a favorite pair of jeans. i have learned abide the incessence coming from below my waist, my life having a small and subtle shake now for a few years. i feel like a timer is churning inside of me, winding its way down to the anti climax of death. i feel whittled, carved into something ever smaller and smaller as the days go, i hate being destroyed, turned into the nothing, turned into nothingness. Most of what i have left is pain and love, if i be so lucky to remove all but pain and love i will consider myself lucky. however, like i said, pain and love is only most of what i have - the other stuff, the pride, the anger, the fear - it is at times louder than the pain, sometimes it is louder than love. so what is the prayer of a man who needs the little so he can have his heart back?

give - us - this - day - our - daily - bread

Character

I was walking down the aisle at work today and overheard a few other of the cogs in the servo talking about a current struggle and how it can only build character if the struggle is scene through to fruition. There is no doubt in my mind our characters are fashioned out of our life experiences. Genetics may play into the field but mainly as an influence in what we experience. Basically who we are is a composite sketch of our experience - with a few overwhelming social trends, but the details, the wrinkles - those are ours.

So as i let their trivial dribble through the spillways in my mind i begin to ask myself the question of who i am and how much pain has shaped me. that thought quickly moves into the barter game. what would i trade of my character to get rid of the disorder or even just to hem in its' effects. i wonder how many homeless people think about what they would trade to not be homeless? i haven't the feintest idea for either question.

i wanted to go back and stab those idiots talking about struggle building character. take out my filed letter opener and open up a leg or two and then implore them to find the character there but alas i need health insurance and i would die in prison. i am loathe to shut my mouth or back down from a fight, one on one or one on twenty, it really doesn't matter. it's a shame i need the drugs and mris like i need food - somtimes those chalky pills are all i eat in a day.

i don't know a lot about things, i play like i do, but really, i have looked into the abyss, i have seen into the shadow of the One and i know the depths of the Real are so implausible i am refuse to speak of them. i long for that abyss again, i want the insanity of the maelstrom, i don't think i get it for a little while, of course that is my thought, i have no clue about the timing thing. who knows about time? no one that's who, get a physicist, a philosopher, and a priest together and expect flint on stone regarding time. none of them have it and know it. if they know it their brains are jello like mine. i didn't get the time revelation though. i got another.

so i guess i "know" a bit about something, and that something has shaped what i think i am. and those in aisle can have that sweet bread of their own existence.

Ducking

i've been listening to lots of honest music this morning. brit beat boy spilling his heart about dying dads, lost loves, and drug trips gone bad, lonely americans afraid they aren't losing touch but that they have lost it already, their frostbitten fingers only a symptom of a much colder heart - that sort of stuff. i think the music is getting the better of me too. it makes me, woos me with this false sense of salvation that only if i get it out on paper i will make it into glory. my head tells me no, no, no but my heart says you must. like virgins making much of time, i have heard candy is dandy but liquor is quicker and the quick road to feeling more like myself today is a relatively light confession and an appointment in four and a half hours to get my face pumped full of pain killers.

i am a problem gambler. my friend G and i have discussed many times, that this and even just my particular attitude, will lead me to either the top of ceaser's or bleeding in the alley behind it. i am trying to learn how to harness that sort of particular power but like other forces of nature it hunkers down and only becomes more fierce when handcuffed. i don't believe i need to be ordered about, i need to be unleashed. i think i will make it to the top, it is imparative i believe this, without this well conditioned hubris i fade into medicority. i believe hope is the evidence of things unseen, my hope links me to the unsearchable depths of the One and it is there, it is that deep dark well, where i gather myself and my power.

i dodge bill collectors. i am fast, i am vicious and i am hard to track - maybe harder to handle when found. the story goes that when i got to the age the lending instituions deemed appropriate i signed up for credit. like almost all other traps set by those who wish us ill, and if not ill at least the chance to empty our pockets for years to come, credit didn't kill me quickly. i did allright for a little while. eventually though i succombed to the plan of those snke conspirators the banks. you see that's what they do; they give you a little hoping to trick you into being good little angels, paying everything on time that way in a few years the bank can give you money for a house and then collect interest from you for the next 25 years. it is all a scheme, all their kindness is a trap to lure you into a lifetime of debt. well once i realized i was trapped by their little plastic demons i knew for sure i would never be owned by them again. furthermore, i resolved to make my attackers regret ever trying to subdue me. in just a little bit of time i think my debt will become, once and for all, uncollectable. me 1 - the banks 1, can't wait until the tiebreaker.

i am a little loose in the screws. i have visions, like waking dreams where bad things happen to good people; bad things at my hands, crazy things. then there is the real where i don't do these things - at least not now. i tell them i don't want them but they scoff at me. right now there seems to be a strange coexistance, being they are comfortable to just be visions. i will start the worrying if i meet a new friend that works as a projectionist or a catering waiter. maybe i should start worrying earlier, do i own any ikea?

so that's the quick of it, i mean i could tell you i am lustful, and judgemental, and seem to deal constantly with religious thoughts, but those things aren't that interesting this morning. today it is about me being an unrelenting do or die, bill skating, nut case who is one of the people who should probably own many more weapons and arms but will get it done with out them. fires in the desert and fast driving.

Pain and Hope

The Title of this post is a take on a post that my pastor, Alan, did called Forgiveness and Pain, check it out here: http://alankraft.wordpress.com/2009/08/08/forgiveness-and-pain/ .

In his blog he tells the story of a man wounded by those who had positions of trust in the missionary community. Abused and on the verge of slipping into the cycle of revenge and retaliation this man took a stand and forgave those who had hurt him and in doing so removed them from his heart. This removal process took away their power over him to cause future damage. The forgiveness process was the process by which he solidified his healing from the events and was, and is, what i consider one of the first and last steps of recovery.

The idea of forgiveness and pain is a very unique idea for me. If you follow my blog at all you know i have a condition that to this point has been diagnosed as trigeminal neuralgia. This nerve disorder causes me to have violent pain on the right side of me face. To understand the depth of the pain it is similar to getting tattooed. The pain is almost electric, it is cutting, it is hammering all at the same time. I have spoken to women who have the condition and they liken it to birthing pains happening on the face.

When i had seen Alan had written about pain and forgiveness i knew it was my place to talk about another type of pain and hope. In the case of Alan's acquaintence who was abused there was a direct assailant who had caused the harm. There was someone to forgive. With a nerve disorder there really isn't anyone to assign blame to. i don't feel particularly comfortable just calling it a spiritual attack, although it may be, and i don't really like judging myself and assuming that my condition is related to something i have done or not done. In the end, when i am not in the throws of wild eyed pain, i know that my condition probably doesn't have someone to blame. The ironic thing is that i have had people suggest that God is causign my condition, that they somehow link the disease to some sort of Job (fellow from the Bible) type affliction. Once again, i don't know if that is the case but it may be, really in the end no one will know what is causing my disorder, least of all me.

So what do we do when there isn't an entity to forgive? i now i am in pain, i know i am hurt and hurting. i know that right now looking forward there isn't a current plan of care to treat what i have. So what do i do? There is a lot of frustration in this place. A lot of struggle, a lot of nights where sleep escapes me mostly due to pain, sometimes due to worry. A lot of the times i find myself in tears begging the One just to know what happens next.

Then it hits me, what happens next is what is happening right now. The One, God, is near me. My family is near me, my friends are near me. But if only God were near me that would still be cause for something, not necessarily peace, not necessarily rest, but hope. i know our lives are supposed to be filled with peace and rest and the whole Psalm 23 thing but a lot of times that is just not the way it works. what we have then is hope, if God is near me i am where i am supposed to be. That in the moments of my most intense pain the One God is by my side. Never leaving, never failing. Do i always feel the One's presence? No. Often times all i feel is pain. Like today, pain has been my constant companion but the One has never left me.

In my heart there are times i want someone to blame. i want to be able to say "You did this to me! You have harmed me!" We always want a reason for the bad things in our lives but, as i intimately know, the reasons often alude us. We are often left wondering why. Why did so and so die? Why does such person have this disease or that? Why is this happening to us? All of these questions come from a place of intense suffering, pain, and loss. But when there is no one to blame we must hang our emotions and questions on hope. If not we will become, i will become, bitter, cold and brittle.

Most people associate Hope with desire, "Oh boy i hope i get that raise." or "i hope i get a high enough score on the test". While this may be a modified interpretation of hope these things are more like desires and wants. You can work hard and get a raise, you can study hard and get good grades. Hope is something different. Hope is what we need to have when nothing we can do has anything to do with what outcome happens. Hope keeps us from giving up or giving in even in the face of assured pain.

i know that right now, as it stands, i am going to experience violent pain in my face for the rest of my life. Would i like to be cured, to be healed? Yes, without question but it is not in mine to give. So does God fail me if i am not healed? Certainly not. You see, pain, while horrible, is not evil. The man who was harmed in the earlier story was caused damage through the sins of another and his hurts his wounds had to undergo a spiritual healing for him to be whole. i, on the other hand, have been given the path to walk that involves maintaining hope and faithfulness in spite of pain.

I have a tattoo on my wrists that is a capsule of the message the Apostle Paul gave to the Corinthians in his first letter to them. Of all the wonders of the spirit, all the grand things in the kingdom of God only three things will remain, Faith, Hope, and Love.

i am and have been at the breaking point for more than a year now. when it gets really bad, like it was today i am considering the worst of all solutions. then i remember that even though i hurt i am with God, and if my soul is eternally with God then there is somewhere right now where i am with God in eternity and not in pain. Hope is the evidence of things unseen.

Hollywood Babylon

It wasn't going to get done today with Snapcase, it wasn't going to get done with xDisciplexAD, not with Social Distortion, not with any other hardcore immitators, distorters, black lip gloss wearing, tight jean, mopy, dishelved teenage scum. It had to be the Misfits, basically what i am saying is i ain't know goddamn sonova bitch - you better think about it baby.

It's Been Too Long Again

i realize as i look at the lack of new wanderings here that i have done it again and stayed away too long. Since we last weaved i have been up and down. as for right now, i have a pretty wicked sun burn and i am 8 days after getting 22 shots in the right side of my face. so what does all this tell me? i am still here. not gone yet, not beaten down yet, still kicking ass and kicking out the jams.

so has it been too long? i think so. i haven't been using this space as intended. i can't undo that. the past only exists in recordings and memories, it is gone, yesterday is gone, only today and what is done today. tomorrow is all imaginairum and spirit, today is the real. this moment right now with eyes closed hammering at the keys, free from everything that is held against me. so you get me now, a little sunpoisoned, immensly flying on my meds, beautiful as the One would have it. all my pain is pennance for being so beautiful. i am flawed because if i wasn't then i would be the One, since i am flawed i am not the One but the One is lovely to me. it holds me it loves me and my imperfect pain. one day i will have perfect pain and this will free me from my chains.

so if this is supposed to be a blog of theraputic nature let me send you into a little therapy. why are we hidden? your skin, oh yeah your skin unfolds... not i, i am not hidden! open your heart then! be thou the one who embraces the authenticity of openess. if you are open then this is as you are!soe day i will ride the chariot of fire and eyes. i will hold the whip but not crack it, the horses pull fast enough.

Ease

Go down easy. i'm not saying give it up or with hold any effort, i am just saying go down easy. there's no stopping some of the things that are going to happen, there's comfort in trying to make peace with this truth. life is just as inevitable as death, we are going to live until we die and we are going to die when we do. there is no doubt there will be good times and hard times along the way of life and death. when times are good the easiest thing to do is smile, when times are hard it is easy to cry. we all experience life and death in different ways but there is no doubt we all get both. for however short, long, hard or easy we all get both life and death. i say we take hold of each with ease.

it is often in daylight when i do not fear death. i am trying to let go of the fears that the night times bring. i want to fully embrace the true message the One spoke after the resurection - "Be not afraid! It is I!" i can hear the words rolling off Its' lips, a dramatic excitement at seeing the loved ones after death. What have i to fear? If the One is willing to go through death then so am i. my favorite part of most of the martyrdom stories about the faithful ones through out the ages is not just how the died but how they lived. there is a flare for the dramatic with the One. It loves to tell fantastic stories.

there is no undoing our design; the System of Biology has authored a beautiful dance between us and It, and by us i mean the whole of creation. The One is the keeper of both life and death, and they are not bad. However, like i said above, there is no doubt both can be hard but as with most things we look through this veil with clouded eyes. is my hope foolish? i hope so. although my hope is foolish i am no fool. is faith a crutch or is it a reality, to me it doesn't matter. what faith, hope, and love are i do not know, i wouldn't begin to try and define them here. what i don know is this: my life is richer because they are here and because i have them, and at the very least i believe in faith, hope, love and The One.

so i say again, Go down easy. take a deep breath. remember what it was, think of how it is, and imagine the future. if there is fear that is fine, there is fear in me and it isn't to be ashamed of but it can be made whole. and if there is hope when you close your eyes then you are in that time when a smile will do.

i never thought i needed help before, now i know i just can't take it anymore, i'm begging you please for help

there's a quiet song rumbling in my heart, it wants waves of freedom and a continuos spirit of fresh start. i know i am in this deep because i can't take it day by day. when i think of freedom my heart groes light - something tells me this means there isn't levity right now in my world. every time i blink it feels like a bee stings me directly under my right eye. this i can deal with. i can't, however, deal with the sickness of the spirit. it's isn't a lack of strength, i need help to be meek. to say i need a loving hand in my life. the smell of lillac in my nose the sparks of the hammer on my skin.

i need the healing that only comes with being cut down. the rambler, the gambler, the back biter, the liar - the midnight rider, this ain't what i am gonna get but that's because, like John, on bended knee i come. i admit i am a gambler, a rambler, a midnight rider. i need the sweet salvation of assurity from the darkness, i can't run for long times anymore. my breath is week, my nights are haunted by a figure in black that has a touch much cooler than the dearly departed Man. a few nights ago the display on my stereo talked to me. it told me to do things, to go places, painful things, dangerous places. there is something in my house, and i am afraid, in my heart.

so i have this one hope, this one love, this one grace that can save me. there is precious little i can do for myself - but there is much to be done for my fellow man, for my love, for my Love, for my friends, for my family. so i will keep my head low and my feet moving. the road is narrow and the road is long, the rivers are deep and the mountains are tall but it only takes one step at a time. one more smile, one more mile, i don't think i can do things on my own. i never thought i needed help before, thought that i could get by by myself, now i know i just can't take it anymore, and with a humble heart, on bended knee i am begging you please for help.

Devil In a Blue Dress

Except for a select few, the multitude are nameless. And with those select few, i try to get them to join the others every day. During those dark nights they shined like a falling star awash in whiskey and ardor. Alas, there are so many falling stars i can't remember all of their names, their stories, or the lies i told them. i was, and am, a master at catching them. And, while they never burned my hands, i am forever burned in my heart. Like invisible ranchers, each left their brands on me. i thought i knew how to keep from being marked so, that i could be beyond the fences of the heart, but no one is. We leave our marks on each other with disregard for our own well being.

so it is, without question that is the story i tell myself. i think it is true. like so many drugs the stars call out to me. they are there, they are out there, shining saying take me, want me, hold me, tell me i am interesting, that i matter - and they do. Because while i see a falling star, something that will only last for a night, they see a chance to be loved, a chance for connection. i am the one who is deceived, even when my veneer intentions are what those stars have in mind, it is my lack that is truth. it is my need to be next to the fire of a star that is the true exposure. my need to be loved, to be wanted, to be held, to tell me that i am interesting, that i matter - and suddenly i realize i am the falling star. every time my heart turns i seek out those that will catch me. so we are all falling stars, some with greater ability for burning bright and attracting others into our spiral.

like magnetic north, my spirit leads me away from this cycle. i know it isn't good, that these and those falling are ephemeral. and if i wait long enough, if i breath long enough, i realize i do not need the flam of the unending multitude who wish only for the same thing. the flame is inside me, i carry the fire inside of me, and when i care to be at peace with the fire inside of me the rest of the stars ebcome beautiful, even those that are falling. instead of efervesence and ephemerality there is constance and eternity.

let me not forget the fire in my heart or the fire in those around me. let me do best to encourage the flame in all while remembering not to extenguish mine. let me remember not to catch the falling or become falling myself. and let me remember that a falling star is stiil good, it is just traveling very quickly on a path that leads back to where it came. that space is circular and to fall in any direction will lead back to whence it came. let me not judge those stars, or me myself, let judgement escape me in favor of earnest care and smoldering compassion. let all of those falling i encountered on my way crashing through the heavens be healed of any damage i caused, let my damages be healed too.

there is goodness in what happens, i bet you've got a story that you're just aching to tell, bet you've thrown some coinage down the wishing well. don't worry so have i and it's not too hard to bear, don't think about the money or the time, the way to making your wishes come true is through a common door.

close call

i was close to letting it all go tonight - i am typing this on my phone because i don't have a computer right now, desperate times. i suppose the story is it was a close call and not an all the way call. i am still right here, barely. i just get lonely sometimes, i want something to take away my pain. the doctors want me to do a new high resolution mri to see if i can get a surgery called microvascular decompression. basically if the surgery doesn't work i stay cluckered out of my gourd on meds for the next 10 years praying to the sweet One above that i don't have brain rot. i'm scared, not of pain, i'm scared of tomorrow, that there isn't good news coming. that maybe pain will be the rudder of my life. i'm afraid of what i could do to someone in a moment of horrible pain - what if i were to lose control while driving? what happens if someone confronts me and i just can't stop? i am arrested by the fear of myself. i am astounded by those who have stood by me through this but i don't know how i can expect them to stay... there seems to be no bottom to this pit. it is hard even to imagine the presence of God where i am at, even though i know It is here. i know my friends, family, and loved ones won't abandon me, and i apologize for the self centered rationale which leads me to question their devotion, it is only pain that guides my tongue. i also know someday this will end, to whatever end i meet i gladly look forward to it but i will not hasten its' pace. i am not the keeper of days, i am only the keeper of my heart, and for tonight, while it was close, i kept it here for one more night. what tomorrow holds, i do not know but i hope it is not as close a call as it was today.

When Was the Last Time You Journied to Moriah?

when Abraham heard the voice of the One it was clear in what It asked. "Give up the promise so dearly held let faith and hope reign still. Take your one and only son, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah. Upon one of the mountains which I will lead you to, slay him in My Name." Abraham knew the One wasn't joking, he knew He didn't jest. To call for blood in the Name of the One meant something was about to give.

as i think about Abraham's state of mind as he prepared the wood for the sacrificial altar and sharpened the knife he would use i have to imagine the soul destroying power of the situation. the One had made good on its' promises. even though Abraham had messed up and tried to rectify the situation and had Ishmael, Isaac was the answer, Isaac was salvation, Isaac was heaven. Now Isaac is not only being taken away but the One is telling Abraham to sacrifice salvation, legacy, heaven, for the sake of the One. take that in for a second. that's real sacrifice. Here is the fulfillment of the promise but you must give it all up to glorify the one who fulfilled the promise. if you do not sacrifice you risk it all because you are no longer faithful and you may anger the One who can wipe the slate clean. if you chose to sacrfice you certainly will be destroying the fulfillment of the promise but at least you will be trusting in and honroing what you believe to be the voice of the One.

now Abraham at this point in his life had a unique relationship with the One where by he has grown to know the voice of the One. but you know as well as i do that at one point on his walk to Moriah that he had to wonder if the voice he heard was the same Voice he heard that said Rachel would bare a child even in her old age. in the story there isn't any account of divine vision or angels - it says there was a voice. that's all, a voice, we don't know if it is the voice that is inside our hearts or outside as an audible voice - we just don't know. i believe the Hebrew translates as though it is someone speaking to one another, but how many times in this world have we heard about some nut job hearing from the One. can interest anyone in a cup of Jim Jones Kool-Aide? so Abraham's first contention must be deciding whether or not this is really the voice of the One, what's refreshing to see is that as with most of us who are extreme fuck ups, which i can assure you Abraham is, we tend to know when it is the Voice, and so he gets to gathering supplies for the journey. which brings us to the hardest part - the journey.

so we know we shouldn't have that next drink, we shouldn't take that girl home, we shouldn't steal that $50 outta that easily opened purse, do another 8 ball of coke, we shouldn't lie, cheat, or become the debaucherous hordes of Rome - not only that but we know what we should do, namely be good to each other in brotherly love, kindly devotion to each other, love for our mate, continous empathy for the down trodden and depraved, remember where we have been, always look forward and struggle for the betterment of mankind and ourselves, devoted to hard work, joy, hope, faith. *** Shocker *** We know this but to turn ourselves on to it is about as possible as getting every dope taking MLB player to just out themselves and move on.

i'm really good at depraved. now what i'm not good at is depraved indifference. put me in a room with a bunch of assholes and i will probably be getting escorted out by said assholes because i can't be kept from telling the they are assholes. i have a hard time being on the sidelines. i want to be in the action, for my part, what i can handle. what's troubling is that when i can't be in the action one way i find my way into action another. i will not be with out a demon. i don't know what it is. my hidden life is about being close to utter destruction and hiding it. my hidden life is about being captain of the ship and sneaking out at night while all the crew mates are asleep and sabotaging our vessel so when the going gets tough it goes really fucking tough and if we get through it is by the skin of our teeth which really means we didn't get through - it means i screwed the pooch and the One had to snatch the jewels outta the fire.

i know that isn't faith, but because i am such a snake oil sales man i sell it as such. oh look how close i was to hell fire but yet made it through with only my whiskers singed! faith isn't consistently jumping off of cliffs daring the One to put up or shut up. nor is that intelligence, nor is that bravado, that is called meltdown. faith is living openly and when the cliffs come jumping because they came to you not you to them. it's about positioning and dynamics. finaly i have learned something about poker and life and faith maybe that lesson is gonna be worth the eight large that ain't coming back. it's the gap principal.

the general poker maximum is "thou shalt not play dominated hands out of position" you can typically tell this by who is in the hand and how they got there, did they limp or raise? are they the blinds? are they early, middle, or late position? basically i can run 80% of the hand with this info. so the same hold true for faith and life - am i playing a lot of shitty situations out of posistion? if you are and you still have chips in play, stop. you still have a chance to not go completely broke. just fucking stop. i would rather see you go broke buying cheeseburgers.

but let's say you learned this, you had this epiphany early than this morning like i did and you have been living like Abraham. the One has shown up when you have had the hands good enough to bet, you may have lost a few but you have won most, and then the few times when the odds were against but you still knew it was the One you got your money in and Rachel got prego and out popped the promised child. you are faithful you are on that straight and narrow path and the next step as you here it from the One is to take something that represents all of the goodness of the One and burn it up in sacrifice.

it's the all-in bet except it's all your bank roll and assets. poker players will tell you to never, without exception, to play above your limits. ever. ever. ever. i do it all the time because i am a reckless idiot. and that is why i experience huge variance and swings. but real players say never under any circumstances play above your level. typically the rule is 5% of your money can be on the table at one time. so if you have $1000 don't play for more than $50 at one time, this way if you take a bad beat you don't step down too much. There was none of that in this situation. it seems like the One likes to build to crescendo.

i'm not saying that it's all about telling stories but the One loves to ride the edge, hmmm maybe that's where i get it from - when all else fails blame your shittiness on the One, It get's the joke and i'm sure understands It's full complicity in the matter. in epic manner Abrahams life builds to this defining moment, little moments of faith growing and growing until the ultimate bet must be made. will you put the entire promise on the line? let's ask the question in modern terms, if there was exactly one thing garuanteed to cost you salvation and the One asked you to do it would you? notice Abraham didn't consult, didn't read up, he prepared.

so i ask when was the last time you Journied to Moriah? my life isn't bad but it has been interesting. and i heard a voice today, but more importantly i asked for it because i hadn't heard it in a while. i needed to go to Moriah. i needed to pony up something i needed a moment of real faith, not something show boaty where i sabotaged the ship, so i did just the opposite. the journey to my Mt. Moriah is 180 steps away, that's 9/18/09. i don't know what happens when i get there. who knows if i get there. i hope i do , i hope we all do. i packed my bags, i am on the road, i have to go. i can't undo what i did. it's what i would call a forced Lent for a sinner who can't handle himself. anyone who's been in rehab knows me and knows who i am, you know how weird some of the shit that will get posted will be. that's all i got for now, sorry for the ramble.

strung

it's friday night 6pm and the only reason i left the house since sunday was to go to a funeral on thursday. i feel like a rusty tackle box that has been left in the back of an old pick up truck full of dead worms, hooks, and knotted line. i think i dosed once too much today but fuck it, it's about dinner time and my face feels like roast on the carving station. i'm gonna take again. the idiot cook with the chef's knife hasn't been reel graceful this week.

it feels like someone is taking the right side of my face off in layers. there was a point today were my vision went blurry. the point of this isn't pain, it's neuropathic inhibitors. Topamax and neurontin. my brain is cooked. waffle house 3am drunk needing coffee and bacon i am in a different time zone. clarity is something you should value. coke addicts, not so funny anymore.

i have to put myself in a drug induced haze to make it through the day without screaming. and once i am there i begin to touch it, it frightens me. it forces me to ask questions about self and true desire. how much pain do you really want to be in? how much will you be in before you take again? will you take more if it gets worse? can you feel it getting worse? you are building up a tolerence to the recommended dosage, just take one extra...

it's hard to type. i have to go really slow. what's worse is i can't tell if it is the drugs or the fact the i have a disease that causes the demylenation of nerves. who knows? what ever it is this is an effort that is borderline psychosis. i smell chlorine, there is a distinct taste of iron in my mouth, i think both of these are effects from the drugs. however, when my mom hugged me at the funeral and her head hit my face and A. asked me if "i would be okay?" and i said "maybe," and she said am i "sure because my lips are the color purple." i figure that was caused by hell. yes pain exists, even, and especially, in churchs.

so there they went, bottoms up, 400mg of Neurontin and another 25mg of topamax, a little OJ so we have some vitamin c catalyst. i have my up in smoke tour shirt on. i am gonna put the chornic in and peace the fuck out. if i had weed i would smoke it, if i had gin i would drink it, but ladies n gentlemen there is none to be had so i will sit here destroying my body with legal destruction in hopes i don't scream the night away.

in the warm embrace of silence

i am an addict. i am a low down, no good, have to make sure people aren't looking over my shoudler type of guy. i haven't lived clean since i was five years old. i remember the moments of destruction from my early life. i can recall with the errant poundings of fists on walls early memories of hiding the stolen, lying, cheating, sexual deviance. i started early. there is little i can do now about what i have done, what i have killed, who i have touched, the fingers of fire and forests of flame.

now, with that said, i have known that i was a low down, no good, have to make sure no one is standing behind me type of guy since i was five too. i think my age of innocence ended the first time i saw a fight over a bottle of maple syrup, the first time i saw a death threat via shotgun, the first time i saw boots that didn't belong beside my parent's bed. i don't blame anyone for this. if i do, i blame myself, second on the list would be me again, if we get to number three we might start to consider outsiders but probably not. i think you get the idea.

so at the ripe age of 5 i started my life as a sinner. and i am damn good at it. i won't tell you some of the things i have done because i am ashamed of them. there are things i have done which i have told to one or two people which i will only tell to those people because i am ashamed. there are things that will not get told, at least not now.

as with most things though there must be some redeeming quality to me. you must be thinking to yourself "how does this som'itch have any friends" - not to mention that i have, for a few years now, been in a very committed relationship. well, lemme' tell you.

every night, in the warm embrace of silence, when the troubles of the day begin to creep in on me as i shut my eyes to go to sleep i pray. i pray for everything i've got. i am thankful for the P.o.S. car i have, and i am thankful for my two wonderful mutts, and i say my thank yous for my girlfriend A. and my family, and i say my thank yous for my friends. i even say thanks for the horrid nerve disorder i have because i gets my attention so.

and then i say my sorries, i don't spend a whole lot of time on them, i don't have a lot of time for sorries. i've got more time for trying to be a better man. and i don't mean that in the i'm not gonna swear, not gonna get hurt, not gonna hurt someone else sorta fashion, i mean that in the be a better man - there's a place for me somewhere if i will find it and there's a voice for me me if i will hear it and there's glory for me if i will seek it sort of way. the road to eldorado sort of way. an apology don't hold water if it tastes like tumbleweeds.

after sayin thanks and sayin sorry i mainly just wait. i sometimes hold my breath or just let myself be held, i guess the idea isn't to try real hard, the process isn't about perfection or repittion. in fact it's not really a process at all, if it starts to get stale i throw some new stock in it, if there isn't trouble or new stock already on the horizon - there normally always is.

furthermore, i don't hide myself away. i stand in the middle of the street now. sure there are some secrets about me, some things you will not know. the friends i have get to be so because they too are desperate men. desperation dose funny things to us, it makes us dogs, each and every one. it unites us as sinners and as the saved. we know we are ruined, and in our mutual ruination, through our diseases and addictions, drinks and haymakers, we fight our way through this life.

so what am i worth? a few dusty old books, some rotted out veins, and burnt out nerves... a land locked pirate who is afraid of the people he works for. i am worth a damn when the going gets tough, i can eat ramen noodles 38 days in a row, add another 20 days if ya mix in bologna and mayo sandwiches. i am good in a pinch, better in a grind, best when a bet has been made.

unfortunately, as some clean living folks may say, i have to learn how to live out this life as prim and proper as i can. i say rattlesnakes to that. i am gonna do my best to live. i figure down on my luck a few hundred times ain't that bad, hell i've gotten pretty used to it. so kids grab yer gasoline and an empty bottle of scotch. an old sock will do, a rusty match too and we'll have a riot or two. when in the warm embrace of silence, pray, and in the warm embrace of bodies do what bodies do.

you walk a dead end path through a dry corn field, now this morose response

It has been two fortnight since my last post and for this i am deeply troubled and deeply indebted. many apologies are do as the highways continue to stretch whether we want them to or not. quite frankly it doesn't matter if i believe in time, some bastard came up with it and it keeps marching right along. i don't know if i would kiss or punch the inventor of the clock - if even those are fightin or dyin words i know not. but it troubles me that i have been away and i only have myself to blame for that. if there be gunpowder in my blood i will try not to do it again and if i do be i damned. and if i be damned then the devil be ready because i can be quite the troublesome lot as our fair Savior knows.

it must be recalled there are able bodied distractions in the world, some come in bottles, some from the salton sea, some come from the iron in the wine and blood on calvary. they are in our eyes when we need them most, on days when we are failing, days when we are paper thin. i am thankful for those able bodied distractions as sick as some of them truly are, as i am, for just as i am sick i am able to carry one load stone for another. and if i should sink to the bottom of the briny deep with a mill around my neck then i be prepared to trade stone for stone with one who is in just a great as need as i. we can drown together as long as you don't mind my mindless dark rolling in.

i can't say much at this present moment as i try to keep it close to the keep now. i will leave you with this reprieve - we bones here for yours await.

always faithfully yours, illegally at work, j.