In my little town

I live in this little town in the middle of nowhere in the Ozark Mountains. It's actually a tourist town, at least that is the main industry in this town. Even though I do not own a tourist related business, my business is directly effected by how "the" industry in town is doing. If tourist related businesses are not doing well, I am not doing well. My business is directly related to the businesses in town.

Anyway, this is our local BBS. It's a hoot. These are all real people and I probably personally know at least half of the posters, maybe more. Many of us use nom de plumes, but we all still know who we are (except for a handful of sickos who like to wreck havoc). None of us know who those guys are and they stay hidden because they are generally the homophobes and Eureka doesn't take kindly to homophobes. http://www.geekfest.com/cgi-bin/ubb/forumdisplay.cgi?action=topics&forum=Open+Forum&number=1

We are weird here in Eureka, but we are proud of that. We call ourselves "The Town Where the Misfits Fit".  There's also "Eureka Springs, where Woodstock meets livestock". Or then there's my personal favorite "Oh look Ellen, there's a weirdo! This must be Eureka Springs!". We have a tee shirt here in town that you can buy that says that. This is a town full of old hippies, artists, freaks, queers, geeks, ultra left and right wingers, you name it we got it. We have the largest staute of Jesus in North America, it's 70 feet tall, we call it the Milk Carton Jesus and Concrete Christ. It's was built by Nazis, along with a Passion Play that I believe is also the largest (and only) one of it's kind in North America.

The funny thing is, some how we all manage to get along in our own freaky way. Imagine if Venice Beach, CA was slam dunked into SoHo, then picked up by a tornado and dropped 160 miles east and north of Tulsa, OK and 45 miles south and west of Branson, MO, smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt. You've got Eureka Springs, Arkansas. I've been here since 1992. Left Los Angeles after 25 years to move here. Take a look, you'll find me posting there. I am of course the PenDragon (why would I use any other name?). 

 

 

 

In my life, I love you more

Now here's a confession, one of my most favorite movies of all time (it's in the top like five) is GroundHog Day. Now until that movie, I really hated Bill Murray. I hated Bill Murray because he dated Gilda Radner way back when and I think that at age 22 when this occurred, I had a very serious crush on Gilda Radner. In fact, I had a crush on Gilda Radner until she died in May of 1989. I did however like Gene Wilder, he's a really nice guy. I was happy for Gilda that she married such a nice guy. I think I hated Bill Murray because he appeared to be a not so nice guy, he took Chevy Chase's place and he got Gilda to boot. Still, anyone who had to endure take after take of the puddle scene, deserves to not only get Andie McDowell in the end, but he deserves my respect for being such a patient fellow.

So last night a friend was telling me that she was having this discussion about the gay and lesbian struggle in the 60's and 70's with someone who was not even born during that time period. Apparently as they were having this discussion, this unborn child was quoting textbook/documentary type pseudo-intellectual stuff, that was way off the mark about how life really was for us'n queers way back when.  I told my friend that I always tell historical stories (ones I was alive for anyway) by relating stories as if it was just something that I experienced back in like 74. Like I would say:  "once, when I was like 20, I was at the bar getting wasted when the vice cops came in (you know they still did that to us back when I was 20) and then I did yadda, yadda and blah, blah, blah".  Course I always tell a story from my perspective and not an historical stand point. Maybe because I couldn't give a shit what authors or documentarians think or say about time periods I lived through. I know how things effected me personally, political or cultural ramifications be damned.

This is how history gets skewed. Children should never write their parents history. I can't imagine what the depression was like, nor WWII or the Korean War. I do however remember the Vietnam War and what it was like for me trying to come out in 1973.

Your mother should know

There's only a few moments left before the clock strikes twelve
my princely garb is disappearing
It's not endearing

Couldn't manage to drop a black leather boot behind
something for you to find
to ease your mind

I am here, snug in my bed,
thoughts of you rift through my head

Good night, good night.... sleep sweet and tight.

Plagerism is a warm gun

won't you come out to play
greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It's beautiful and so are you
won't you come out and play?

open up your eyes
see the sunny skies
The wind is low, the birds will sing
That you are part of everything
won't you open up your eyes?

let me see you smile
like a little child
The clouds will be a daisy chain
So let me see you smile again
won't you let me see you smile?

won't you come out to play
and greet the brand new day
The sun up, the sky is blue
It's beautiful and so are you
won't you come out and play?

You don't know how lucky you are boy. Back in the US, back in the US, back in the U.S.S.R.

When your prized possessions start to wear you down
Look in my direction, I'll be round, I'll be round

When your bird is broken will it bring you down
You may be awoken, I'll be round, I'll be round

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free

"Bright are the stars that shine"

Part of my depression has been because I was hurting so badly from missing something in my life of which I had grown terribly fond. I still miss it being a constant.

As much as I spend my time trying to be spiritual, I find that I need certain things that seem so very mundanely human. Like I really need human touch. Cuddling is a good form of human touch. I like it a lot.

I am sitting here thinking about how Tibetan Monks get over their need for human touch. Maybe they don't. Maybe it's all a lie and they need to be held once in a while too. Even non-human primates cuddle and groom one another.

All I know is, I know nothing, except that love is necessary in my life. I need to love and be loved. Period. Which is why in the end I have never become a monk.

And now I am off to work. Oh and, don't forget that I love huge, whatever that means.

GI Joe, GI Joe, fighting man from head to toe....

Ok, so Ky bought me and Audey these action figures for Christmas that were from the same collection. The collection was all these tough guy thugs. Mine was the convict, he came with leather vest, handcuffs and manacles. He had a blonde buzz cut and a lovely scar on his cheek. I forget what Audey's character was, but I believe it had dark or auburn hair. It was clear however that mine was definitely the Daddy doll.

One morning while Audey was still here on Christmas leave, he called me in the bedroom and he was laying there on the bed next to Ky with this shit eating grin on his face. I looked over at the night stand and saw his boy doll, pants off, kneeling doggie style on all fours, my cuffs and manacles around his feet and wrists while my Daddy doll was kneeling in back of him, pants to his knees, holding on to the boy doll's hips and pounding away in to his ass.  I have to say that, before that moment, a doll had never turned me on.  That however got me hot in a way I did not think a child's toy could ever do. Audey is very creative.

After Audey left from his Christmas leave, he took his boy doll and I was left with my convict Daddy. Luckily I have a GI Joe, so I put convict Daddy up next to where GI Joe lives and have them looking at each other as longingly as two child's toys can.

One of these days I am going to pull them both down and have some fun. Until then, they are up there collecting dust.

Curious Jorge

Most Esteemed Dipstress,

Why do you not ever post to me? Is it because there is nothing to say to me? Come to think of it, for the 3 people who actually do read this ocassionally (myself not included) why do you not post? I truly would welcome your posts.

 

A Boy's Life

Once upon a time there was a boy named Mickey. Mickey was a happy, creative boy who loved to play for hours making up all kinds of stories about imaginary people, places, things and situations. Mickey's parents were well meaning people, but they had preconceived ideas about Mickey and life in general. This made Mickey very sad because they kept trying to make Mickey fit in their box and he couldn't fit in it because he was not shaped like their box.  He tried to tell them he did not fit, but they would have nothing of that and shoved him as deep into their box as they could.

Mickey was miserable in their box. The world Mickey lived in thought he belonged in his Mom and Dad's box too. In fact, the world he lived in had an even smaller and more painful box they tried to shove him in.  Mickey used to get in trouble constantly because he could not fit in their boxes and he would fall out all the time. Mickey saw all the other boys around him having fun and being themselves. This pained him greatly. But Mickey looked different from them and so the other boys made fun of Mickey for trying to be like them.

Mickey became very withdrawn and kept to himself to avoid being made fun of by all the other kids. He couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, stay inside the boxes built for him by others, so, he just stayed to himself and was very lonely all the time. Mickey was so sad, so lonely. His heart ached constantly. Mickey thought it would be better to be dead than live hurting and lonely all the time.

And so Mickey went into a deep and dreamless sleep from which he never awakened until one day a beautiful Queen came along and found him sleeping. This Queen took pity on Mickey and kissed his sweet little boy lips and he woke up for the first time in decades. This wonderful Queen did not try to put Mickey back into the box of his parents and the world and this made Mickey very, very happy. Mickey fell in love with this Queen and vowed to serve her forever so grateful was he. And so he did, happily and gratefully forever.

Love is a many splendid thing

It's been a long day. I am not sure there is really a whole lot to say tonight. I really didn't have a whole lot to say this morning or this afternoon either. Actually I had something to say about the L Word, but I got booted and that got lost forever so..... maybe I will just wait and critique it in a few weeks. I didn't get to see it tonight cause I had to go do a job.

So I have to go to bed cause I am dead tired now. It's supposed to snow tomorrow. Three to five inches they say. I'll believe it when I see it.

Isn't it romantic?

It would be funny if you knew me to know that I am at a loss for words. It's more like I am at a loss for energy to even think of words. My heart hurts right now. It's heavy, but because I am energyless, there is only so much ache going on here. Last night I was laying in bed crying before I fell asleep. A million reasons "why" where running through my head. Why? Why now? Couldn't you have waited until I had my head back in a better place?

I have had lots of people hurt me in my lifetime. I know I have hurt a lot of people too. I have to say that I only purposely hurt maybe 2 people in my adult life. Everyone else it has been pure stupidity on my part. Even when breaking up with people I have tried to be as kind and gentle as possible. Just because you no longer love someone or want to be in relationship with them anymore does not mean you still don't care about their feelings or self worth. Even in all your kindness, you still hurt them.

I hurt right now.

But that is neither here nor there.

Happiness is a warm....

I discovered Billie Holiday and Dinah Washington back in 73. My parents didn't listen to music, my Dad did in the car, but I seldom traveled with him in the car. My mother listened to classical or religious music, neither of which were ever on AM radio in Fresno California back in the 50's and 60's. I only remember one radio station growing up and that was KYNO. They only played rock n roll. KYNO was where I first heard I Wanna Hold Your Hand and She Loves You (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah).

But as a 19-23 year old, I fell in love with Dinah Washington. I loved her so much that I went around to used book and record stores searching out copies of her albums. Along the way I ran into a few Billie Holiday too. I ended up with like 2 Washington LPs, I think I still have at least one in my vinyl collection. Loving Dinah and Billie, naturally led me to fall in love with the Manhatten Transfer.

I saw the Manhatten Transfer once. It was somewhere that wasn't a big venue. I saw Brian Ferry and Roxy Music at the Roxy, I remember that for some reason. When you see acts in smaller venues, you get to see them up front and close. They look a lot different up front and close than they do from the nose bleed section at the Dorothy Chandler. Which is where I saw Diana Rigg do Abalard and Heloise back in 1971. She looked like a very talented ant from up there.

I remember seeing Sally Kellerman do a lounge act at the Rose Cafe in Studio One back in like 74. She had this new found fame after having played Hot Lips Hoolihan in the movie version of M*A*S*H*. We had front row seats for that. The Rose Cafe was how I used to get into Studio One without getting carded when I was under 21.

From the time I was like 19 until I was 21, Studio One was where I hung out. I would go with Phil and/or Barry. We'd do a lude, smoke a j and then I always had just enough cash to buy 2 vodka tonics and have a burger at the French Quarter after closing.

I am just reminising. Not that I miss those days (although I do miss my body and libido from back then), I just wanted to walk down memory lane and see what I actually remember. I who once held the proud title of "Memory Like A Steel Trap", trying to recall almost 30 years ago.

Ship Ahoy!

Well, I have to say that I don't feel any worse now than I have for most of the week. That is because when you have hit bottom, everything is sideways from there, emotionally and otherwise. Very little can happen and effect you any worse. There is a place where you have to look up to see bottom, but I think I'm not there yet.

Like I am just kind of there right now. Other than some slight generalized discomfort in my heart, there's not much left in the emotional sideways range. Wouldn't it be swell if my old therapist Ellen read this and wrote me back and said "J, you know you are in total denial about how you are feeling right now, you know you have shut down because you can't handle anything else. Is that a good thing? No. Now how can we get this wellspring of pain to be released so that you can go on and deal with this stuff?" Then I would say "Well, Ellen, I think a .44 to the cerebral cortex would do the trick (maniacal laughter). But seriously folks.... FUCK YOU ELLEN! Take your $150k plus a year job and god knows how much else you make in your private practice and shove it up your anal retentive ass."

There is something I hate more than anything else on earth and it just so happens that it happened to me tonight. In fact two things happened that I really hate. I was amazed at how calm I felt after it happened. Almost serene in fact. It just kind of oosed sideways out of me and I felt only minor discomfort. Maybe because I was not ready for, or expecting it. So when it happened I was not prepared to think or feel anyway. It took the better part of an hour or more for it to really hit me. By then I was talking to someone else on the phone and recalling the incident to them when, well, it just hit me kind of hard. But I shoved it back down so that I would not go into a crying jag over it. That's not going sideways, that's going further down. Or maybe it's up, Ellen would have thought it was.

Mom was right, I am jello, spineless jello. Backbone of rubber. See Mom you were right, you were always right about me.

Daughter of my heart

This is an email I wrote to my kid (the oldest one) today, well, part of it anyway. Here's that part:

Btw, when you hold your infant for the first time, all the things I speak of about how much you love your children will become clear to you. You may love that little one who you are feeling the movements of inside you right now, but once you hold him or her in your arms, everything changes. You fall in love in a way you never have before. You will never know another love like the love you feel for your children.  Once you hold that gift in your arms you will know why I will love you forever.  If you ever doubted my love for you, you never will again. You will understand everything a parent feels and know that nothing can ever make that love die.  I will love you and worry about you forever, because you are my child. I gave my heart to you long ago when you were just a little girl and I will and cannot ever take it back. 

Daughter of my heart, daughter of my soul, my first born child, I love you beyond time and space, beyond all measure.

I love you and hope all is well. Give Clay my love, he is a good man and I am grateful to the universe he is who you chose to be your companion, partner, friend, lover and husband.  You and he are both very fortunate.

This isn't procrastination I swear

It's cold in my house right now. Mainly that is due to the fact that something broke on the forced air part of the H/AC unit and we can't afford to have Mark the H/AC repair dude come out to fix it. So we are reduced to using the emergency wall unit I bought and had installed back in December. It's purpose is to make sure we still have heat when the power goes out during heavy ice and snow storms. Since we haven't really had winter this year (thank you god) it hasn't been necessary to use for emergency's sake. However, it is sort of being used for emergency's sake at the moment. Without it we would totally freeze.

I am waiting for winter to hit. Keep waiting for the other shoe to fall. It's got to happen at some point, I think. I have only lived here 12 winters (that is how you mark time here btw, how many winters you have survived and are still standing when season comes back around again). I have never seen it be 50 degrees in January. Never. I suppose it has happened before, just never within my memory. Course, I never saw it snow in LA but twice in all my 25 years there. Once it happened in 1979 or 80 and only on the block where the place I worked was located. That was bizarre to say the least. We had a 3 foot drift up against the building and at least 4 inches on the ground and on our cars, but if you drove to the next block over, there was nothing, absolutely nothing. It was really freaky. Then in the winter of 89, we looked out one morning and Debbie said, that's snow out there. I said it's just heavy frost. We both went out and sure enough it was friggen snow. Just a light dusting, but snow nonetheless.

Cold is all relative though. What is warm to me here would have frozen my ass off in LA. It's 39 degrees here right now, feels like summer.

Things I want to do before I die, better known as goals and objectives

Write a symphony, ok a string quartet concerto would do, heavy on the cello thank you

Go to Ireland, hang out there a few months or years.

Learn to cast in metal in particular but I am not too picky, plaster is good too

Record all my music, but mostly record whatever is left of my singing voice before it is gone forever

Write a poignent short story or novella and give it out to all my friends

Learn how to project my spirit whenever and whereever at will

Make love with all the people I still want to make love with with absolutely no ramifications (there are actually only 3 or 4 people in this catagory btw)

Create out of thin air (unlimited possibilities)

Why we need parents

My Dad likes to tell these stories about when I was a little kid around 3 or 4 and I would make these elaborate things out of clay. It's evident that clay has always been my medium of choice. I remember making these things. My Mom used to give me clay because all children with ADHD should be given something they can totally focus on for hours on end so that Moms can get some rest. I did more than focus on the clay, I created entire worlds out of clay. I made up elaborate stories in clay. I made up elaborate stories when drawing stuff or building miniature houses too.

Dad's favorite piece was the cowboy and horse I made when I was four. I was rather detail oriented too, down to the spurs and lattago. If I could have figured out how to put bullets in my cowboy's gun I would have. When I was 13, I made him a bust of a Confederate Army officer. I didn't know how to cast it (I still have never learned how to cast) so it was made of oil based clay and somehow, it has survived all these years. Dad placed it in a case of it's own so that it would not be destroyed. I made that in 1967, so you do the math on how old it is now.

In my junior year in High School, Mr. Weiderman was going to teach me how to cast. So I sculpted this set of hands (I had and still have a thing for hands) and put them in my art room locker so that after Christmas vacation, he could teach me to cast. He said that first he would teach me to cast in plaster of paris and then he would teach me to cast in metal. I was stoked, I was so friggen excited, finally, something I created would be in a material that would make it last. I got to my locker that first day back from break and the hands were gone. I asked him what happened to them and he said "Oh, that was your locker? I thought it was the locker of a senior who graduated early, I threw everything in there away."  I was pretty shocked and devastated right about then. The sad part was, he didn't even feel bad about it. I told him my hands were in there and that he was going to teach me to cast. He just shrugged and that was the end of that. I was dejected at that point and went away feeling pretty bad.

Why we need parents (continued)

Then there was this older hippy woman (when I say older, she was between 30 and 35 to my 16 years old)  who took me under her wing not long after that, she was also going to teach me to cast. She was going to teach me a lot of things about art. What she did was give me millions of old Life magazine pictures she had collected for close to 20 years and told me to make something out of them. Then she married some hairy, hippy, mountain man and moved away to Humbolt County and that was the end of that. I kept the Life magazine pictures though.

Twenty years later, after I left screaming for my life from Debbie and was living in my new little apartment on Kling Street in Studio City, I pulled those suckers out of storage and wallpapered my kitchen with them. I taped them to the wall and then drew and painted all over them, giving them captions and/or the people in the pictures little cartoon bubbles with my wit and wisdom in them. When I was done with my finally completed work of art, I raised a glass to my almost mentor and thanked her for the 20 year old art project. I almost wished she was there to see it. I almost wish I had taken a few pictures of it. In fact, I almost wish my Dad had seen it. He would never have understood it (especially all the transgendered and gay male references coming out of the mouths of the men in swimsuit pics), but he still would have loved it.

Come to think of it, not many of my friends got it either. They didn't understand why I had half naked male models looking at each other and making propositions to each other in cartoon bubbles. They didn't understand why I, the dyke, found any of that humorous. If only they had known.

But Dad would have loved that I had done that piece at all. Disposable art that was taken down and to the dumpster when (at her insistant prompting) I moved in with Chris Akard. Which is why we have parents. We need them to remember our disposible art. We may file our bad art away as yesterday's disaster, but your Dad will always think anything and everything you do rocks. I still don't know how to cast in plaster or metal, but my Dad thinks I rock anyway.

Ocassional bright spots

Have you ever noticed that ocassionally, amid a sea of things just not going your way that there are some bright spots? Like I can be feeling pretty down and then my little girl comes over and sits on my lap and hugs me and tells me she loves me and that makes all this hell I call life worth it for that moment.

I am weary right now, bone weary, feel like death warmed over. It's physical exhaustion (a 600 plus mile drive will do that to you), but it is also mental and emotional exhaustion. I have been in this place before, it's just been a long time. What I wish is that someone would come along and save me, but that is not going to happen. Generally speaking, no one ever comes along and saves me. Generally speaking, everyone expects me to come along and save them.

I am always the strong one, even though I am not very strong. But I appear strong and so they flock to me looking for my support. I also tend to attract weak and needy people. I used to have this little joke when I was young. I used to tell people I was Atlas, that I carried the world on my shoulders. That was my little joke. I however am not Atlas anymore.

Two things can and do sap my strength, money problems and a broken heart. If I get them both at the same time I am sooo fucked.

I am looking for a bright spot in my life. Something I can cling to that says it's worth it. I don't have the ability to stand up and fight right now, I am so weary, so weak. I wish I had someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be ok. I need a Mommy right now and all I have is me and I am too weak to do that for me right now.

This is not a pity party, the reality is, I don't feel sorry for myself, I am too weak to muster up that energy. I am just trying to figure a way out of this fog of depression and try to muster the energy to go fight the enemy and save the fort. In the end, I am all that stands between this family here and homelessness. There is no time for pity. So I dialog with myself to work up the strength I need. I am looking for that ocassional bright spot to give me hope and maybe instill me with just a little more strength to get through this right now.

I'm taking a ride with my best friend

Ok, so I am going to drive 600 miles in a few hours. I thought I might actually want to dump something here for this date since I will most likely not be home before the calendar change at midnight.

Anyway, the depression is back in a big, big way. Lots of not so great shit happening to make me wish it or I would all go away. Most of it is something I can do nothing about other than be at the mercy of others, which is what is causing the depression in the first place. It's financial and unless I win the lottery or I inherit a rather large sum of money very, very soon, I am so fucked it's not funny.

We all think we are so free, but watch them manipulate the economy and cause a serious downturn and see how free we feel when our jobs disappear or, as in my case, your business is so slow that you are not sure how you will maintain the phones, let alone pay your vendors. It's times like this that I swear suicide starts looking like a mighty viable option. This is the honest truth, I am so weary of this world that if I did not have a family to feed, clothe and house it would be all over and the vultures of international finance could just send their minions to come and pick my bones clean after my death.

There are a lot of people who would say that is the coward's way out, but I disagree. I think it is simply acknowledging the fact that you are tired of these lessons for now and wish to go elsewhere to continue school. Unfortunately, as I have stated previously, suicide is not an option. I have a family and I must do everything I can morally and ethically to provide for them. I could go ahead and leave, but I can't bring myself to do it morally on those grounds alone. I have to take care of them because it is a moral agreement I signed the contract on 7 years ago. This would not be a good thing to leave them bereft and so I stay and am miserbly unhappy in this life time.

See how life sucks?

More things I will admit to

I am a very bad artist and musician
I tire easily
I think I am attractive
I honestly do not believe there really is such a thing as truth, there are only varying degrees of perception
I get hurt easily by people I love, other people I tend to ignore
I am aware that when other people have thoughts and feelings about me that it is coming from their own perspective and projections and not from a reality of who I am, conversely the same holds true for me and my thoughts and feelings about other people
I love everything Harry Potter
I am not an intellectual, pseudo or otherwise
I have a 31 year old child and a 5 year old child
I feel that most people who identify as christian and ultra conservative have serious mental and emotional problems and were probably seriously abused mentally, emotionally and physically as children and are in incredible mental and emotional anguish
I believe that of anyone who is mired in fundamentalist religions, I feel incredible empathy for these beings and their journey
I am incredibly loyal, to a serious fault
I have had many amazingly serious and cathartic spiritual experiences
I am hoping I do not come back again. I am sorry I came back this time
I really don't know what I was thinking when I came back this time either,
I have tried to figure it out my whole life. Why did I come back here again?
I really do hate AOL
I think AOL has been taken over by the Illuminati

Things I will admit to

OK, I will admit I am technologically impaired. But then I always have been. I was not into techno things, even when I was young. So this is not new. I have no patience with it and never have. I hire people to understand those things for me. Since those people are generally my friends, I am in essence sharing the wealth. The honest truth is, I can't even figure out the remote for the TV. How I have figured out how to work a computer I will never know. Since I have been using one almost continuously since 1980, I should at least know how to turn one on and well, I do.

I am an FTM, but I came to the decision several years ago to never undergo the change. So I identify as a lesbian because that is what the world considers me. Because I can fall in love with a woman and I am biologically female, that makes me a lesbian in their eyes. I can't fall "in love" with a male, it's too much like thinking about having sex with your brother. I love men, my best friend is a biological male. Most of my closest friends have been "straight" biological males. I prefer the company of other FTMs too. My S/O is an FTM, which I guess in a way makes us gay males. We warp the minds of everyone, even the G&L community doesn't get it. But I like that, I like warping people's preconceived ideas and beliefs.

I love Alan Jackson. I don't just like his music, I love him as a person. If he is anything like his music, then he is one heck of an incredible being. I adore him because his music is from his heart, which in my opinion is the true indicator of a real artist. I know people will argue with me on this point, but I couldn't care less what they think. Usually those who are willing to argue where art comes from within a being are people who are not true artists anyway. They are pseudo-intellectuals who find arguing with you about any given point a mental work out, but in my opinion it is more mental masturbation on their part. Alan Jackson on the other hand is real, which is why I like him. He figured out how to take his art and make money, this is true. But I say more power to you dude. We all have to eat.

 

And the beat goes on...

Anyone who knows me well knows that I go on and on and on talking. Ask anyone, they will tell you, I am the king of rabbit trails. You may never know what my original point was in the first place. I will probably never get there because of the rabbit trails. It's genetic, my grandfather was the same way. He bored us all to death. He could and would go on for hours on end about shit that happened back in 1912 or whatever. 

My grandfather was born in 1888, so 1912 was something he would have remembered well.  He married my grandmother back in 1915. He was 27 years old. Grandma was born in 1898. Grandpa made some kind of deal with my grandma's dad and they were married. Grandma was not in on the deal btw. In fact, she was pretty pissed because she had wanted to go on to college and this marriage deal cut that short. Back then, few women were afforded the right to go on to college.  She however made sure that all her daughter's had that opportunity. She encouraged each and every one of them to achieve higher educational goals.

Grandma had 6 daughters. All except one got a BA or higher. The one that didn't, married a fellow she met in college who went on to become a lawyer and then a judge. So she used college to marry well. Grandma was a Capricorn, she taught her daughters well.

Grandpa died 3 months after my 30th birthday at the age of 96. He was a Sagitatius and quite the little orator, boring yet verbose. Just like me. So I blame him. It's genetic, I have no control over it. In fact, knowing this genetic fault, I often do not speak in an effort not go go off into dissertational monologs. Pray you are never trapped in a moving vehicle with me for more than a few minutes. It really is cruel and unusual punishment.

And away we go

Although it appears that I share from a place of total honesty, there are still somethings I don't share no matter how deep a place I appear to be coming from.

Like, I will never let on exactly how hurt I am. I tend to appear pretty matter of fact about things, even when sharing my deepest feelings and thoughts.  Even if I express what appears to be something I feel deep passion about, you will never know how deep that passion really is.  Pretend I am a fathomless black pool. You will never find the bottom.

If I tell you I am in love with you, I am probably at that point of being in love that you will be someone I remember forever even if we never become lovers or partner for life.  If I tell you I am in love with you, I am probably thinking about you too much. You are probably the first and last thing I think about everyday.  If you are not available for sex, I probably masturbate thinking about you ocassionally. That masturbation was initiated about and because of you. I seldom do myself other than to pretend the object of my affection is near me, making love with me. This has a lot to do with my age/hormone levels and not because I have never masturbated just because.

Then I have the ability to be in love with more than one person at a time. Usually I have someone I love more than the others, but I am still capable of being "in love" with more than one person at a time. Contrary to popular belief, I don't want to marry everyone I am in love with.

If I get really quiet and appear to be pulling back from you, it's because I am hurting over you at the moment. If I start to become distant, it's because I am not in a place to deal with the pain I am feeling at the moment. Before I can be close again, I have to go inside me and do some work. I have to remind me that I love myself. Once centered, I can be around you again.

Since AOHell only gives you 2500 characters, this is all I am going to say about this subject now.

Thanks for a lovely time Sid

The Wizard says go away. And so I have. I got the message Mr. Seigeloff.

Que como Que?

I tried twice last night to post to here. Why I try I do not know. Somehow I know AOL is all it's glory is going to fuck me over everytime.

I had someone say something to me this morning that got me to thinking about something I have been thinking about anyway. He just made me think about it more. Is that vague enough for you? Thankfully I understand and that really is all that matters.

I think I will go find the website he suggested and do some research.

I wish I could shake this depression. It only debilitates me even more. Which makes me more depressed ad infinitium, ad nauseum. Blah, blah, blah Ginger.

Ko is staring me in the eyes, she just came over here thinking I might possibly have something to say or share. Perhaps she is wondering if I am wondering why she vomited on the carpet instead of the hardwood floor? Perhaps she is wondering when Ollie will stop trying to hump her when he is neutered? Who knows what she wants me to say or think or do? I don't speak in silent eye expressions all that well. I only know that one expression in her eyes that means I really, really have to go potty and that one is always accompanied by a hand nudge with her nose.

Oh well, I am off... ta ta.

 

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

I am not a liberal Democrat, that's just how I vote. I am so far left of left that I am almost right. I don't believe in politics or political parties. Not that I don't believe they exist, obviously they do, I just don't believe they are a good thing period. Maybe because I do not believe that politics or politicians are anything more than the visible tentacles of something much larger and more sinister.

I don't think we are too far away from the day that politicians and political parties will have to hide who they really work for anymore. Maybe that is a good thing, we'll all stop pretending they actually care and the real powers can openly decide our futures. They have pretty much destroyed what little was left of the constitution, what more can they do but come forward and subjugate us openly? We are to a point where "Live free or die" is pretty much meaningless to most Americans. We will just let them come in and take over. We already have.

Mark my words here, the Shrub will be reelected. He is a good pawn for them. They will keep him in place until it's time to lead us further down their path. Good thing I am dying, I will not have to live to see my children and grandchildren become chattel worse than I already am. Truth is, we already are chattel. We just believe we are not. We are so propagandized and brainwashed that we honestly believe we are free. They don't want us to think and they are not afraid of the small % of the populace who do. We have no voice and even if we do, they crush it, like they crushed descent over Shrubby's little Iraq joke. This is why I know the day is close when they make themselves known. They are getting bolder.

I believe in reincarnation. I have probably been the serf and the feudal lord. Who am I to judge? If I believe this existence is all about lessons, then why should it bother me that 99.9% of the population has this lesson? The answer? I don't know why I care. I just do. One more thing to let go of. There is no utopian world, there are only lessons.

Mean Doctor J

His sister Pam works in a shop she never stops she's a go-getter. Takes him out to look at the Queen, only place that he's ever been, always shouts out something obscene. Such a dirty old man, dirty old man.

Always remember and never forget, never ever get a song stuck in your head.  

Wax on, wax off

You know how when someone calls you on your shit and you feel trapped like  rat? Trapped by your own ironies? That sucks <grin>.

And so I say thank you mi Reina and leave you with this thought "You can't always get what you want, but if you try some time, you just might find, you get what you need.

Y ahora para algo totalmente diferente

So? What more could I have said? What more did you wish me to say? Do you not know by now that I am completely yours mi Reina? Soy el príncipe y me arrodillo abajo antes de usted.

Mi mujer, mi mujer, mi esposa

Tu es mi querido, mi amante, mi alma.... para la eternidad

Mi mujer, mi mujer, mi esposa

And now, for something even more important...

Por siempre en mi corazón y alma está usted. Mi amante, mi compañero del alma, mi querido.

This is what I would say to you
If these were all the words left
in the world

This is what my heart cries out
in the depths of the night
the grief enveloping me

This is all I really needed to say
Because I know this is not possible
any other way

No hay otra manera,
esto es imposible
este amor que he sentido
la pasión hemos compartido
no posible
y me aflijo
 
Por siempre en mi corazón y alma está usted. Mi amante, mi compañero del alma, mi querido.

Mi amiga, mi chiquita, te quero 

 

And one last afternoon thought

I have discovered that it is not wise to assume that your body is ok when it had a traumatic injury and then stop taking your anti-inflamatories. I have discovered that I do not appreciate blunt force trauma to the knee.

I have also discovered that I hate the pain of blunt force trauma to my heart too. Oh wait. I already knew that. Remember this, when you have a boo boo that is in the process of healing, never ever pick the scab off before it's ready. Never reopen a wound that will debilitate you emotionally. Never look back and wish things were different. Looking back with longing and loneliness in your heart is the worst kind of scab to pick off before it's time. It only reinforces the pain and lengthens the healing process.

You would think I would have learned all this many years ago. And in fact I have learned these lessons, many times before and many years ago. At seven, when I picked that scab covering my whole knee and shinbone off, I should have taken that lesson and run with it the rest of my life. The poor universe, it tries so hard to teach me lessons and I am so thick headed most of the time. What did you call me Kyre? Contentious? Hmmm, yes, stubborn, contentious and now in pain again, silly fool that I am. Silly rabbit, happiness is for kids, not for rabbits!

Why AOHell bites even more

Sue is the one who brought AOL into my life.   I was happy with my little ISP here. Happily surfing the net on Netscape or IE. Blithely going through my Internet life without the help of AOL. But then Sue comes along and she has AOL, so I had to figure out how to have AOHell here without paying a fortune in long distance charges. My guess would be that to have AOL over the last 6 plus years here in this house, I have spent the better part of $7579.44. And that's a low figure. There are little peripheral extras that can account for another few thousand in LAN modems and networking hardware and software and new computers, miscellaneous local, state and federal taxes and a lot of ups, downs and extras I will never know about.

DirectTv and Dish Network combined have not cost me that much over the years although I will admit, they are a chunk of cash I wish I had not had to put out for too. They would come out to somewhere around $6480. That's an average estimate.   Now before Sue, I had my little 19.95 a month local ISP and my 2 business phone lines (which neither was a designated Internet line). The cable bill was never over $30 bucks a month. My total cost for everything before Sue would have been somewhere around $8712. With Sue, all entertainment and information highway costs have been loosely $14059.44.   With that cost difference, I could have taken a really nice cruise leisurely around the world or put a nice down payment on a vacation home or Hummer. I could have invested it in a retirement plan or bought some kiss ass life insurance policy.

Why AOL bites

Ok, so I figured out why AOL's Journal software only allows 2500 characters an entry.   It's because AOL believes that none of it's membership is capable of writing something more than 2500 characters worth of thoughts or daily experiences at a time.   Obviously AOL believes it's membership to not have any more that a total of 2500 characters worth of life on a daily basis.

Which means they probably had some "think tank" people come in and advise them on the lifestyle and intelligence level of the average AOL member.   Then they took that information, poured it in the blender with the cost effectiveness of offering a blogging feature to the membership, said an incantation over it, tapped the glass 3 times and "poof" out popped this AOL Journal with a maximum of 2500 characters.

I have to tell you that that just pisses me off.   But I suppose that I will have to live with that because, as a not so happy nor loyal member of AOL for 6 plus years, I live with their crappy services with minimal complaint (to AOL anyway) until eventually they make it better or upgrade it somehow or whatever.

Gottalottapets

The good thing about today is that my depression is lifting a bit. The bad thing about today is that Sue brought home another dog from work. I cannot say let alone spell this breed. Shiba Inu or something to that effect. Some relatively rare Japanese breed. This apparently cost it's former owners over a $1000. It's a puppy, 6 months old. I don't want this dog. No, no, no, not one bit. But this is my life story. I say no, Sue gets it anyway.

The story of my life.

But seriously folks

Never take anything too seriously. Never take yourself too seriously. Never take anyone else too seriously either. Never put your ultimate happiness in the hands of another, you are setting you both up to fail.
Always accept love when it is extended to you. Always give love whether it is received or not. Always love yourself first, all other real love springs forth from that.  Always take the higher road, the road less traveled.

Look to your own heart for the answer, it is there waiting. The trick is to hear yourself speaking. Always trust your gut. Well meaning folk are not always right about you. No one will ever know you or walk in your skin, nor see through your eyes. Never trust anything that rings of a false assessment of your beingness.

If someone tells you they love you, they probably do. Know they are loving their perception of you. Let your core come through. It is the real you. You will leave this planet one day and know that truth. You may come back here again and will forget. Remember it next time so that you don't get caught up in the bullshit that is this dimension. Never take your lesson so seriously that you do not learn from it.

Many things and beings are your teachers, know that, honor it and move on. Take the high road and move on. What you did yesterday that worked for you, will not always work today. Remember that and move on.

Know your heart, your core and you will know the path to take. Absolutely nothing is impossible, it is all in your perception. Look to the higher road, follow your spirit. No one person/thing has the answers. There are no answers, only lessons.

Love is the only thing that is truly real. Love with all of your being. Love as if you will burst from the pure radiant joy of it. Trust love only, it is the only truth, it is the only reality. Everything else is false. Lingering distrust of someone/something, you must let it go and let love take it's place. Let it go and move on. You will not grow nor learn from holding anger to your heart for someone or something. Just love, purely and unconditionally.

If I only had a brain

I would not be just a nuttin, my head all full of stuffin, my heart all full of pain. With the thoughts I'd be thinkin, I could be another Lincoln, if I only had a brain.

These are your drugs, these are your drugs on brain.

Do you know what the killer is about losing brain cells from old age? Words that once flowed off your tongue and finger tips evade you now. So do other people's names and faces. Finding them again in conversation is like trying to catch fog in your hands.

Other than a bottle of wine or two occasionally, I do not do drugs. Well, I guess coffee counts, it is a caffeine laden Satan of sorts. And cigarettes are definitely a drug, but these are legal and except for the wine, I can operate heavy vehicles legally on them.

Of course, I have never operated heavy vehicles (unless you are counting my body). So I suppose this is a moot point. The point is, my brain has ceased operating.  The cerebrial cortex functions, the rest is history.

I blame the Internet. I was well read and articulate before I wandered on to the Information Highway back in 96. The reality is, I wandered on to it back in 92, but there wasn't much there then. Just a bunch of meandering cowpaths and wagon trails back then. BBSs were not my idea of fun either. My other problem was, I was living (and still am) in a little one horse town that, at the time,  had no local ISP dial-up. To go online even for a moment cost me in long distance charges just to access the Information Cowpath. So I waited until we finally had our own little local exchange dial-up to go back on. That was, as I said before, 1996. My brain has deteriorated rapidly ever since then.

Fast forwarding to today, my brain is jello. It liquifies under certain circumstances. Words, complete thoughts evade me. If I had to write a doctorial thesis right now I would be up the proverbial creek, the lights are on, the paddles are missing.

Thank you, thank you very much... and Elvis has left the building.

Remember to hate AOL always....

Ok, so here's the deal. AOL so frickin sucks. This last post? I had to cut it down at least by half to make it fit their parameters. It lost it's charm by having to be edited it so drastically. So now, if I did not already hate AOL for being the megalithic piece of shit that it already is, I would hate it more.

That wouldn't be such a big deal if they would at least let you cut and paste. I could have at least have cut it in half and posted the rest in the next post. Grrrrr, I hate AOL.

If I didn't know better

One thing about going through years of psychotherapy is that, you know how to trace down your source of mental and emotional discomfort. You also tend to not lie to yourself about why you feel the way you do. Like, I know why I am so depressed. I know how I got here.

If I write long enough, I will get undepressed right? I think not. My mind and emotions are saying "the drug I need to undepress me is not available", but lordy I need that drug right now. It's bad when something becomes a drug to you. Bad drug, bad! Down drug, down! Sit, stay!

This is how therapy works, you figure out exactly why you are fucked up, you heal from that and then you choose a different pathway in how you interpret and see things.  The different pathway is that I know why I want the drug. I also know that knowing this will keep me away from the drug. Simply because I know I "need" it.

Did I mention I was an interloper? As an interloper, I have no right to feel like I can have my drug. And so I don't have my drug. Here's the real twist, even if my drug was available and I could have it all I wanted, I wouldn't have it for eternity anyway. I actually prefer things as they are right now in someways. Feeling that way keeps me safe, keeps other people happy. But damn I miss it. I miss my drug.

Like any good drug addict though, the drug will win out. Eventually. Which is where my Catch 22 is, the drug also feeds the depression when it is gone. I "need" the drug to feel better, but once it is gone again I get depressed. See? I could write a book. Which in the end means, it is better to just go through the withdrawls and bite the bullet.

See how psychotherapy helps you understand yourself better? I now know and why I am so fucked up, I just don't care when the drug so fucking rocks! But I will get over that, eventually. Until then I lament the loss.

So if anyone ever accuses me of not understanding addiction, you can tell them that's bullshit. I do understand, I totally understand.

When you can't cut and paste

I am sitting here thinking about why I am so sad. Sad is a bad adjective. I am dejected, rejected, unwanted, unloved. That is more the feeling. The unwanted child. I, the interloper, wounded and lost.

For one moment, too short for my liking I held something in my hand. A precious babble you might say. More like a rainbow that faded as I moved away from it's glory. More, it moved it's glory away from me. I stood still not wanting to break the spell of it's beauty. Afraid to move for fear it would dissolve before my eyes.  Suspended, I finally lost it from my sight and now I grieve.

Grief, my grief is deep. My pain is a heaviness I am not carrying well at the moment. I do not wish to grieve. I do not wish to hurt. But the grief is here and now and I am in it here and now. Living it until I heal.  Living it, alone. Which is the real grief in the end. I live it all alone.

Pensively pensive, redundancy rules

In this moment, in this time that is now and forever

there is now
There is no space,
no measurement of what is or is not

there is no time,

No marking of something that is not or is
there is perpetual now,
and perpetual here

There is a thing, it does exist
it is like a glue of sorts
it holds the fabric of what is and is not together

You measure it in waves that ebb and flow
In storm driven tides that rush through and envelop
a spirit,

for eternity,

For the time that does not exist
for the space that is illusion
for the now that is perpetual

brilliantly blinding

We share it like a kiss,
This very fabric of existance
this thing that is all there really is

This love, never crushing in it's binding,
never judging, just bright beingness,
glue of the universe

This love that is all there really is....