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.