What a Difference a Day Makes

Today was my second day on the meds. I know it is too early for them to have made any real difference, but for some odd reason, I feel a lot more centered.

In other news, I went to the dojo this evening. I sat through a "session" as a guest. I think that I am not going to be able to do this shit. It looked more painful than my body can handle right now. I think I need to do some serious working out to get my body stretchable in order to do this stuff. I was hurting just watching them do their thing. Ouchie.

Ok, that is enough for right now.

Ciao

I really don't have a whole lot to say tonight. I just felt I needed to keep writing. You know, when I don't, I end up not writing for weeks, sometimes months on end.

Barb and I have made a little deal with each other. I am watching her back and she's watching mine. So far she is doing a better job of watching mine than I am of watching her's. Whatever, I am sure eventually I will be watching her's too. At any rate, she gave me something that could possibly resemble a snippet of hope in my life. I don't know yet, it all remains to be seen how well it works for me.

Seems we went out to lunch the other day and had a little heart to heart that sure did me some good. I am hoping that it did her some good too. Me and that Barb Dunnam sure do see things a whole lot alike in life. Maybe that is because she is a Taurus and so am I.

Anyway, thanks Barb, you are the best.

Alec the Boy and I started cleaning the work van out today. We didn't get too far, but at least made a minor dent. Feels lighter to drive the van already.

Ok, that's enough for tonight. Nothing left to say that can be said here anyway.

Ciao.

Just passing through... ha! Thought I would share a few tid bits of prose, someone else's of course. Mine, as you know, sucks. This is what you do when you can't find your own words.

Thank you once again Emily:

Thought I knew my mind
Like the back of my hand
The gold and the rainbow
But nothing panned out as I planned
And they say only milk and honey’s
Gonna make your soul satisfied
Well I better learn how to swim
Cause the crossing is chilly and wide

Twisted guardrails on the highway
Broken glass on the cement
A ghost of someone’s tragedy
How recklessly my time has been spent
They say that it’s never too late
But you don’t, you don’t get any younger
Well I better learn how to starve the emptiness
And feed the hunger

Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agony’s your heaviest load
You’ll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When you’re learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while

And there’s always retrospect
(when you’re looking back)
To light a clearer path
Every five years or so I look back on my life
And I have a good laugh
You start at the top
Go full circle round
Catch a breeze
Take a spill
But ending up where I started again
Makes me wanna stand still

Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agony’s your heaviest load
You’ll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When you’re learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while

Stepping on a crack
Breaking up and looking back
Til every tree limb overhead just seems to sit and wait
Til every step you take becomes a twist of fate

Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agony’s your heaviest load
You’ll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When you’re learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while

Up on the watershed
Standing at the fork in the road
You can stand there and agonize
Till your agony’s your heaviest load
You’ll never fly as the crow flies
Get used to a country mile
When you’re learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while

And when you’re learning to face
The path at your pace
Every choice is worth your while

Tipping my hat to you Joni:

Up in a sterilized room
Where they let you be lazy
Knowing your attitude's all wrong
And you got to change
And that's not easy
Dragon shining with all values known
Dazzling you-keeping you from your own
Where is the lion in you to defy him
When you're this weak
And this spacey...

So what are you going to do about it
You can't live life and you can't leave it
Advice and religion-you can't take it
You can't seem to believe it
The peacock is afraid to parade
You're under the thumb of the maid
You really can't give love in this condition
Still you know how you need it

They open and close you
Then they talk like they know you
They don't know you
They're friends and they're foes too
Trouble child
Breaking like the waves at Malibu

So why does it come as such a shock
To know you really have no one
Only a river of changing faces
Looking for an ocean
They trickle through your leaky plans
Another dream over the dam
And you're lying in some room
Feeling like your right to be human
Is going over too
Well some are going to knock you
And some'll try to clock you
You know it's really hard
To talk sense to you
Trouble child
Breaking like the waves at Malibu

 

Again and again the same situation
For so many years
Tethered to a ringing telephone
In a room full of mirrors
A pretty girl in your bathroom
Checking out her sex appeal
I asked myself when you said you loved me
"Do you think this can be real?"

Still I sent up my prayer
Wondering where it had to go
With heaven full of astronauts
And the Lord on death row
While the millions of his lost and lonely ones
Call out and clamour to be found
Caught in their struggle for higher positions
And their search for love that sticks around

You've had lots of lovely women
Now you turn your gaze to me
Weighing the beauty and the imperfection
To see if I'm worthy
Like the church
Like a cop
Like a mother
You want me to be truthful
Sometimes you turn it on me like a weapon though
And I need your approval

Still I sent up my prayer
Wondering who was there to hear
I said "Send me somebody
Who's strong, and somewhat sincere"
With the millions of the lost and lonely ones
I called out to be released
Caught in my struggle for higher achievements
And my search for love
That don't seem to cease

Really bad hair day

 Personal Daily Horoscope of Saturday, 28 January 2006
for J, born 21 May 1954  

Facing the depths

Valid during many months: This is one of the most unpleasant influences of all, requiring a strong and courageous willingness to change in order to gain any personal benefit from experiences which might, at first, seem senseless and painful. You will repeatedly feel uneasy in unexpected situations in which you felt you had already overcome any problems. This will affect many areas of your life, but particularly the relationship with your partner. If you don't happen to be in a stable relationship at this time then your close friendships will be affected. This influence will also strongly influence your relationships with father-figures, superiors and any other kinds of authority - whether spiritual, religious or ideological.

Any form of therapy will now make you aware of your vulnerabilities. Confronting the darker side of the psyche can be a devastating experience that can uncover abysses within us which we never knew existed. Despite everything, try resisting the temptation to withdraw in order to avoid such experiences. This is not the time to be proud or strong. Pause to reflect, and try talking things over with someone - you will be amazed at the amount of sympathy and understanding you encounter. Accept any offers of help - you may discover that this is not so unpleasant after all. Your current experiences will make you aware of the fallability of human nature, thus helping you to be more tolerant with yourself.

 

This is my horoscope for today. It sucks. This started yesterday actually. It wasn't a happy day yesterday. Which interestingly enough, I didn't bother to post anything about how painful yesterday was for me. In fact, I attempted to actually interact with people last night so that I wouldn't go into myself and hide away. I went into a chatroom and hung out there not really talking much. It was f4Fdungeon on AOHell. I hadn't been in there is like forever. My guess would be at least 8 months or more. And I think the last time I was in there it was because some one dragged me in there unwillingly.

What I wanted to post last night but didn't was this:

Barrell of a Gun

Do you mean this horny creep
Set upon weary feet
Who looks in need of sleep
That doesn’t come
This twisted, tortured mess
This bed of sinfulness
Who’s longing for some rest
And feeling numb

What do you expect of me
What is it you want?
Whatever you’ve planned for me
I’m not the one

A vicious appetite
Visits me each night
And won’t be satisfied
Won’t be denied
An unbearable pain
A beating in my brain
That leaves the mark of cain
Right here inside

What am I supposed to do?
When everything that I’ve done
Is leading me to conclude
I’m not the one

Whatever I’ve done
I’ve been staring down the barrel of a gun

Is there something you need from me?
Are you having your fun?
I never agreed to be
Your holy one

Whatever I’ve done
I’ve been staring down the barrel of a gun

I think this is one of the only songs Dave Gahn actually wrote. I know I am probably wrong, but you would have to ask Sue for that info as I am not up on everything Dave has ever done in his career. I think he wrote this not long after his suicide attempt.

Ok, that's enough for now. I think I should actually be out there getting something done for the day.  

Ciao

 

Lost and dark the caverns of night in my soul, to the bone I am cut, with a mortal wound do I bleed and I am laid waste in my soul. (J.A. McDonald circa 1998) Et lux perpetua...

That's my personal quote in my AOHell profile. In fact, here's my complete AOHell profile:

Name The Pen Dragon
The Merlyn of Britian
Rage, rage against the machine!
http://journals.aol.com/pndragon7/DocJ/

Location Forever in Avalon, in the heart of Dragon country
Be gone thou fool, I have no time for thee...

Marital Status To My Tanner

Hobbies & Interests Despite the facade you think you perceive, I am extremely sensitive and easily hurt. If I appear distant, just know that it is my defense mechanism against the pain.
Know one thing, if you can see me in your buddylist, you are one of the chosen few.

Favorite Gadgets Mistress Gianna, my oldest and dearest friend. I love you beyond all time and space my friend. I'll take the bullwhip thank you.

Occupation Traveler in the universe, just passing through.
Your own personal Jesus,
Pick up the receiver, I'll maker you a believer.

Personal Quote Lost and dark the caverns of night in my soul, to the bone I am cut, with a mortal wound do I bleed and I am laid waste in my soul. (J.A. McDonald circa 1998) Et lux perpetua...
www.geocities.com/merlynobriton/OneOfMany.html
Be it, don't dream it... Links

I don't much think about that profile anymore. Once upon a time I did, but that was then and this is now. And yes, those are the colors I chose those many years ago when this was created. It of course has morphed some. About the only thing that hasn't changed over time has been the first part and the personal quote.

Just thought I would share this little bit of my history. Now I am going to spend time talking with Glenny.

I always saw myself as a coward. Always afraid of life, fearful to try new things, to venture beyond that which was within my comfort zone. Then I began to look at my life through the eyes of someone else. Like the theater critic, clinically eyeing a long and drawn out drama. From that perspective, my life has been anything but safe, or cowardly. 

When I consider all that I survived from childhood onward, it took a certain internal courage to go on and choose life despite the odds against me.  

Very little of life has ever been in my comfort zone. Most of it has been spent entirely outside of the box, living life on the razor's edge in many ways. I look back at life so far and think that I sure as hell have done a lot of shit that most people never experience.

My old life slogan was: I'll try anything once, if I like it I'll do it again, if I don't, I won't. My newest slogan: Been there, done that, got the tee shirt.

There isn't a whole lot that I wanted to do that I haven't done. I haven't written a symphony, I really wanted to do that at least once. There are a few sexual things I would have liked to have attempted at least once before I died. The symphony has a better chance of being written than me getting the latter accomplished. I also wanted to learn to sculpt in bronze.  I sincerely am not sure how I am going to pull that one off either. But I think on it occassionally.

Not a coward. Nope. An explorer in many ways. Pushing the envelope, living outside the box.

Roses are red my love, violets are blue...

I tried posting last night, but something appears to be wrong with AOHell's journal software at the moment. I lost that post from last night. No great loss though. It was at best mediocre.

I really do not have time to be sitting here attempting to post right now. I am supposed to be getting ready to leave for my regularly scheduled Geekfest Coffee Klatch on Wednesday Morning. Also known as Coffee with the Carriage Guy. Tom is the Carriage Guy btw. I think he has been there maybe twice in all these coffee guzzling extravaganzas at Myrtie Mae's in the last two months. But that is neither here nor there either.

What I really wanted to make sure got out of my head and down here was a conversation I had with Alec the Boy on Monday. I don't remember how we got to this point in the conversation where she asked me THE question. I think we were talking about having power of attorney over your significant other and she wanted to know why I had the right to pull the plug on Debbie. The truth is, Debbie also still had the right to pull the plug on me too. We had power of attorney drawn up back in 1985 when I was about to go have surgery. Neither of us ever had it revoked. Her death revoked it, saving me lots of money at the lawyer's office.

What that conversation led to was Alec asking me what it was like to pull that plug. I never signed the papers, Gina did. All I did was grill 5 or 6 neuro specialists into the ground trying to see if there was any hope whatsoever for a recovery. All I did was hold Gina's hand while she signed the papers. All I did was council her to sign the papers because she was incapable of making that decision for herself at that exact moment.

Then Alec asked me what it was like watching Debbie die. That was an amazing question. That was THE question. Debbie took 5 days to actually stop functioning, despite the fact they told us she would expire within an hour of being removed from life support. So I never really saw her "die". Although the truth is, she was long gone before they pulled those plugs.

So then Alec asked me what Debbie looked like there in that hospital bed, brain dead. That was when I finally broke down in this conversation and cried. So I told her what I experienced of Debbie as she lay the brain dead and gone.

She looked like she was sleeping. She looked 5 years older than the last time I had seen her. She looked like my wife, just a little older, with fine lines beginning to develop on her face and some serious hints of gray in her long curly hair. My wife, softly sleeping, in a strange room, in the city where we had made our home so many years before.

I told Alec what it was like to sit there holding her hand and weeping softly to myself. What it was like to watch a huge part of your life dying before your eyes. Touching her soft hair, stroking her face, telling her I loved and how very sad I was that this illness had destroyed our life together.

Debbie's illness, btw, was the cathartic thing that happened 16 years ago that caused that paradigm shift that changed me forever. Had she not gotten ill and then in her illness attempted to kill me, I would never have left that world, that life, that way of being. I would in fact most probably still be with her to this day.

Alec's question touched me deeply within. I don't know exactly why either. It's not like I haven't thought about Debbie laying there dying a thousand times before. Maybe it was the way she asked the question, maybe it was the way the wind was blowing, I don't know and don't care anymore. I just know that it still feels like yesterday, all of it, every detail etched into my heart.

I couldn't go to Debbie's memorial service, I was in New York City that day, and frankly, I could not have afforded to fly back out to LA for a second time in 2 weeks to attend. And truthfully, I did not want to see Doris. I knew I would have gone off on her. I knew in my grief that I would have crushed her evil ass into the ground. Stomped her for being the sneeky, lying, manipulative, conniving bitch that she is/was.

It was better that the next time I saw Doris was at Gina's wedding. That was a happy time. I was strong and certainly not in grief. Although I must say there was a certain amount of bittersweet memory at being present at the wedding of our only child. Debbie would have been at her regal best that day had she been there physically. She would have been the radiant Mother of the Bride. She was there, she passed right through me that day. I have seldom felt such love as the spirit of another touched my being.

The interesting thing about that day was the way people treated me. I knew that day that Gina had never forgotten the bond of love we had with each other. People I did not know came up to me and began telling me stories Gina had related to them about our relationship and what it was like to have me as a parent. I cried a whole lot that day. And then some sweet soul brought the rose that was Debbie's up to me and presented it to me (apparently Doris had tried to nab it and they took it from her and brought it to me instead). I fell apart at that point, broke down and sobbed like a baby.

Daughter of my heart. Whom I love beyond all time and space. My child, my beloved one. I cried a whole lot that day you wed.

What was it like watching Debbie die? Grief beyond words my friend. Her skin still warm, her face soft and without expression, like she was sleeping. Her spirit already gone. She was not there in that room, watching her body stop functioning. It was like watching yourself die, the whole of your life passing before you. All your youthful dreams, gone, with this one person. Peacefully, departing your presence.

But she is here still, often. She who I gave my heart and my life to so very many years ago. She is not sick anymore. She is the spirit I knew and loved so deeply before the illness over took her brain and made her the creature no one knew.

Why do you ask me questions like that Boy? Do you like to watch this old man cry? Do you know how deeply inside myself I go when we have these kinds of conversations? It's ok Boy, old men like me like to be reflective. It makes us believe we have learned valuable life lessons that have made us grow onward in this passion play of life. Ask away my son. Ask me anything you wish.

I suppose I better get going. It's after 9:30, the time I should have arrived at Myrtie Mae's and I still have a 20 minute drive into town to arrive for my usual fashionably late entrance.

Ciao.

Some other place, somewhere, some other time.

Carol Pipkin died yesterday. Here's my mother's email:

Dear Jeanette,

Just wanted to let you know that Carol Pipkin died yesterday morning around 1:30.  She has been very frail for several years.  Had a bad heart and it got worse and worse.  She took a bad fall a few weeks back and broke several bones and has been going downhill ever since.  

We are having a memorial service for her Saturday at 2:00PM.  I am quite devastated by it, but know she is better off.  She was able to come to our Thursday intercession group for some time and we missed her sorely when she couldn't come anymore.  She also got to the place where she couldn't sing her wonderful songs in the services.

They are having an open house on Saturday after the memorial at her home.  Rich and Diane lived with her.  I assume they will continue to live there.  Lisa and family live in the house next door which Carol also owned.  I assume they will have the property assessed and divide the amount three ways, then the others will pay Patty her share of the estate.  Probably they have never even thought of that at this point.
    

I've got to get going here and get back to bed.  I get up at around midnight to do my surfing as I figure the traffic will be less.  I think everyone else has the same idea.  

Hope your new employee is working out for you.  Employees can be a real blessing if they are dependable; they can be a real pain if they're not!  I rarely found one that was!  Shew!  I hate to even remember.

Talk later,
Mom

This was my response to her:

 Mom,

I guess this shouldn't blow me away, but for some reason it does. Give my sincere condolences to Lisa, Patty and Diane. I would surely like to be able to talk to Patty, at least in an email if possible. If there is anyway you could ask Patty if I can email her or if she could email me at least, please free to share my email address with her.  

 I'll write more later, I have to get off to work now. My heart is not so much sad as I am just kind of stunned at the passing of someone who was like an icon in my youth to me.  

I'll talk with you later.  

Love you,

J  

 

I haven't written my mother again, not yet anyway. I am not sure what to say. Carol was actually younger than my mom. But that's not what's keeping me from writing Mom.  

What I don't know how to say to my mom is that Carol was more supportive of me than she (Mom) ever was when I was a teenager. Carol had no qualms about telling me I looked pretty or that I had a beautiful singing voice. I wasn't used to being treated nicely by adult females. Carol endeared herself to me back in those halcyon days of yore.  

Carol was my best friend Patty Pipkin's mother. I spent a lot of time over at their house. I was also deeply in love with Patty back then. She was my world, my heart, my everything.  

Carol also decided in the summer of 71 that Patty and I were a bit too close and had a conclave with my mother to cut off our relationship. It was true that I was in love with Patty, but nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing ever happened between us physically. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I had been bold enough to take the lead and make the relationship also physical, what precisely would have really happened.  

 But Carol and my mother's fear and homophobia drove Patty and I apart. Nothing I ever felt was consummated. Not the passion and deep longing of my heart, nor my dreams of us sharing life together, happily ever after. With 35 years worth of retrospect under my belt, I can say that most probably it would have gone the way of most teenage loves and died a gut wrenching, angsty death shortly after it started. So it's probably better that it was never consummated, nor that we ever set out to attempt to live happily ever after together. 

Truthfully, I am not sure if Patty was gay back then. She attempted to date guys (but then so did I). She however did have real boyfriends. I never did. I knew I could never love them back, so I did all I could to not get a boy so attached to me that I broke his heart. That was difficult sometimes. Sometimes they just wouldn't take no for an answer. Sometimes they would keep asking you out anyway. I just didn't want to hurt anyone.  

 I think Patty might have been gay. When we were best friends, I didn't think so, but then back when I was a teenager, I thought I was the only person on earth who fell in love with people of their same gender. There is no way I would have thought Patty was gay back then.  

Patty and I used to spend the night in my brother's 1961 VW van. We did that because we could smoke out there and talk as loudly about any subject as we pleased, completely undetected by my mother. It's not like we could smoke in the house or something. We would stay up all night talking with each other. Talking and smoking Marlboro Reds (cows in a herd of 20) and joking and basically laughing our young asses off with each other.  

One night, in the midst of a particularly poignant conversation, Patty turned to me and asked me if I "ever thought I liked girls like that". I, of course, evaded the question as best I could. For some reason I thought it was a trap. Like she was aware I was in love with her and was going to bust me, and I would then lose my friendship with her forever. That would have killed me if she had left the friendship over something I worked so hard to hide from her and everyone else. I was too afraid to lose what little I had of her in the first place. I told her I wasn't sure. That I never really thought about it much.   That was the end of that conversation. The subject moved on to something else at that point.

I know now that had I said yes that it's very possible that something might have grown from that conversation. I know now that there was a probability that she was fishing for an opening. I know now that she probably loved me too. Probably not as much asI loved her, but she loved me nonetheless. I know now that my fear probably caused me to miss out on something else very wonderful with Patty.  

I wonder sometimes if I had said yes, yes I do like girls, in fact I only like girls, in fact I am in love with you Patricia Marie Pipkin, if she would have said no to her mother that fateful day the summer of 71 when Carol told her to end the friendship. Would she have told her mother no, no I will not end my friendship with Jeanette, no she is my best friend and the love of my life?  

But I didn't say yes, I like girls "that way". I didn't profess my love to her. I laid there in my brother's 61 VW van, like a lump on a log and said nothing to confirm or deny my real feelings. That wouldn't happen today. I have learned to say exactly how I feel now. 

She is gone. Gone on to another plane of existence. I will admit I am deeply saddened at her loss. Saddened for Patty, Lisa and Diane. They are parentless now, George their father having died many years ago. My heart goes out to them in their grief. My parents are old, they do not have much time left either. Soon I will join the Pipkin girls in knowing this grief.  

Via con Dios Carol. Someday I am sure we will meet again, some other place, somewhere, some other time. Thanks for the affirmations not given by my own mother, and thank you for lessons in this life. I loved you once upon a time. I still do. God speed Carol, until next time.

The Channeling of Shecky Green and other Short Stories

What to write about tonight? What to do, what to do? There's so much I could say, but of course you know I won't. I can say that I am dead tired. Long day you know. But that is not interesting, so that's as far as that will go.

Really, I have a lot more to say than this drivel so far. I'm just not sure what it is that I want to say. But I am working on it, right now, even as we speak. Trust me.

You know, the other day I went to my regularly scheduled Wednesday morning coffee clatch with my Geekfest buds. Now I know some of these people fairly well. Most of them, honestly,  I barely know at all. I don't know what came over me that morning. It's like I was possessed by the spirit of Shecky Green or something. Shecky Green, as you may remember, was a regular guest on Johnny Carson and the Mike Douglas Show way back when. But then so was Totie Fields, and I am sure you remember her just as well. If I had to be possessed by any departed bad Vegas lounge comic, I suppose I would rather it be Shecky Green rather than Totie Fields. Totie was funny, but that missing leg was just a bit too much, even for me.

At any rate, I couldn't stop myself. I was on such a roll. The one liners, double entendres and whimsical witties just kept flying outta my mouth at break neck speed. The more they laughed, the more they flew outta me. And this from some one who was seriously suicidal that morning. I had them holding their guts and slamming their fists on the table howling with laughter. I haven't been this good in years. I almost felt like my old sarcastically sardonic self again.

One woman, teary eyed from gut wrenching laughter asked me why I wasn't doing stand up for a living. That was when I had to explain to her that my brother had spent over a decade of his life attempting to make a living doing stand up comedy. It runs in the family you know, we all think we are hilarious. He even had his own HBO special somewhere back in the 80's that I actually never saw. In fact, I only saw him perform professionally once, I think it was at the Ice House in Pasadena. Personally I didn't think he was all that funny. He was ok. I chuckled at a few of the bits he and Roger did. But the chick that came on after him was hilarious. She had me rolling on the floor. I don't think I should have told him that about her after the show.  After all, he had asked me how his bit was, not hers.  He kind of frowned right about then.

But the point of this story and I do have a point (channeling Ellen now), is that as I sat there zinging off these witty barbs, I was thinking to myself that comedy is tragedy turned inside out. Being as depressed as I was at the moment, it seemed an appropriate thought. I kept thinking that if these fine folk laughing their asses off even remotely knew how close I had been that morning to pulling my gun out from under the bed, inserting a shell in the chamber, placing it at the back of my throat, directly pointing it at my cerebral cortex and then pulling the trigger, they would not be laughing so hard.

Something amazing happened during that "set" there at Myrtie Mae's. Their laughter, my laughter, fed my aching spirit. It began a healing within me that somehow helped me process beyond my personal internal agony. That almost reminds me of a Reader's Digest monthly feature, but I am not going there right now. I refuse to give the Annenberg's any credit for my recovery.

I keep saying I am on some precipice, ripe for a massive cathartic change. What I keep wishing for is a revisitation from that universal oneness thing I experienced 16 years ago this month. That was definitely life altering indeed. I have never been the same since. It's interesting that today of all days, as I drove down the street (we did a lot of driving today btw) with Alyssa (Alec boy) at my side, my mind began to go back to that time and that journal that I was sitting there writing in when Universal Oneness came a calling on me.  I wondered where the floppy disk was that held those writings. And then I wondered where the hard copy of that journal might be lurking. I was sure that if someday, I could get to the back of the garage where I am nearly positive all my past life used to be stored neatly away by category, that I would find these treasures. On the other hand I have moved so many times in the last 11 years that I think the last time I saw either one of them was way back when I still lived with Cheryl on Deer Lane.

Cheryl had this obsession with trying to get inside my head. I think she read that journal cover to cover a few times trying to figure me out. That was nearly 400 type written pages, so I'm sure it was a challenge, even for her studious, bad ass self. I used to have at least 2 copies of "THE" Journal. Somehow in Cheryl's voracious need to eat me alive, body, soul and spirit, bits and pieces of it got separated and lost from at least one of them.

The point is, as I was tootling down Highway 62 headed for a job out on Mundell today, I felt the overwhelming need to read that journal again. Like I kept thinking that if I could at least read the part where I was overcome with Universal Oneness, that I could recapture that moment again. Or at least have a snapshot, or road map guiding me on as to how I got from point A to point B on that particular day.

On the other hand, I am not the 35 year old I was sitting there typing away on that day 16 years ago. Life has given me thousands of lessons, big and small since that day, and I have grown onward and upward. What it took to reach me then is most probably not what it would take to reach me now. A series of large and small events had led me to that moment in time. I am not sure I am willing to have the large events like those that preceded Universal Onenesse's impartational visitation happen to me again. In fact, right at this exact second, I do not want to be tested on what I am willing or unwilling to take in order to cathartically grow further onward and upward.  

Know that my heart is full now. Know that I am in a quandary within myself. I have no idea where I am really going or why. This is neither good nor bad, it just is the state of beingness that I am experiencing right now. One foot in front of the other, keep moving, keep searching, keep open, don't close doors, don't throw up walls, just experience fully, profoundly, in the moment, now. Now, in this moment, which is all there really ever is... this now, this beingness, this eternal now. Love, glue of all that is, experience it, now, fully, in the now, sharing all that is my beingness. Now. I know that my spirit loves you beyond all time and space, in the forever of now.

I accept and receive your spirit's unconditional love of my beingness. I return that love ten fold. Forever. I love you pure and simple. Everything in my now comes back to that truth. I love you. And yes, should you feel that this was directed wholly at you, it was. And I meant every word of it. I love you.

 

 

Isn't it romantic?

I was talking with Carol (yes that would be you girl) the other night about how I view or better experience, or even better, show love. Apparently, according to Carol, (yes that would be you again girl and don't ever say I never mention you in my journal again) I am not very demonstrative. I forget exactly what her words were, but it was something like I don't get all ooglie or some such thing. You can correct me Dearheart, I am sure you remember much better than I exactly what your words were.

No, no I don't get all ooglie when I am in love. In fact, I am probably anything but ooglie. I don't do all those icky and gross sweetums kind of things that make me puke. You are not going to hear me say snookums with any kind of sincerity in my voice, nor are you going to see me make goo goo eyes at you. You probably won't get those sickening Hallmark lovey dovey cards from me either. In fact, you will be lucky if you get a comical card from me for your birthday. More than likely, you won't get a card at all. It's not that I don't do all those sweet things that people do that endears them to the object of their affection. I do. I will make you cocoa (and add those little marshmallows as a special treat), make you lavish meals and spend my last penny on some dumbass trinket you just have to have. Rub your back, pour you a bath with your favorite smell good bath junk in it, even polish your shoes for you so that you look handsome today. But talk sweet to you or get all oozie and cutesy around you? Never. It's not my style.

I think the real problem with how I show affection is that people are never really sure I am really in love with them. I don't know how to be any different. Being the other way, doing that silly ooglie shit, it would be fake coming out of me. I'd rather take you off to some secluded hideaway, sweep you off your feet, lay you in front of a roaring fire and hand feed you grapes and cheese while I give you a massage using the fabulously fragrant massage oil of your choice. This of course is after I have created the most incredible gourmet meal, probably involving some small game bird of some sort, seasoned with rare and exotic herbs and spices. Before I have wined and dined you, I have probably let you luxuriate in a jacuzzi bath I have made for you filled with rose petals and lavender bath salts (unless of course you hate those flavors, in that case I will have done my homework ahead of time and brought along whatever you like to luxurate in while soaking in a heavenly bath).

You can use your imagination as to what I am going to do with you after all this attention. Suffice to say, I will not be happy until I know you are glowing from the passion of my ardor and are safely asleep in my arms, satisfied beyond your wildest dreams.

Some people would call treating the object of your affection like this romantic. Whatever, call it what you will. Romance is not real life, I am a realist, I want things to be real. Romance is not. I want to know that when I wake up in the morning that you are laying next to me sleeping sweetly by my side. I want to know that you want to make love with me because you need to show me how I make you feel physically, because the thought of me making love with you is so hot you cannot resist sharing that experience with me. I want to know that when you look in your heart that it's me that you see as the one you want to share life with. I want to know that when you look in my eyes that your heart is filled with love as mine is for you when I gaze deeply into your soul. I want to hear you say "I love you", I just want to know you love me. Everything past that is just peripheral bullshit.

That's not romantic, that's just love, pure and simple. Don't make ooglie eyes at me or buy me dozens of Hallmark cards a day (don't laugh, I had a girlfriend that used to buy me at least 5 or 6 gross romantic cards on average a week, and yes, it made me sick to my stomach after a while). I probably won't buy you flowers very often, unless I know you love things like that. Please don't buy me flowers, I rather have power tools. But do know that a new power tool does for me what a dozen roses does for some other people, and in many cases will cost you less.

Take my face in your hands and kiss my forehead once in a while. Hold my hand while we are driving somewhere. Jump my bones once in a while, but more than anything else, wake up with me in the morning touching your body against mine once in a while. That's love to me. When I don't get those simple things, I become so wounded, I wither and die inside. I shrivel up and crawl into my shell. And after a long enough time, I can't come out of it anymore. So please, don't do that to me, it hurts too much.

So ok Carol, does this pretty much meet up with how you think I am when in love? By the way, just so you know, Carol is pretty good at being right about me. I am not sure how she does it, but she is usually right on the money. She's one of those reasons you keep good friends like her around. Someone in your life needs to see you for who you really are.

So I am not sure what brought all this up tonight. It certainly was not what I was thinking about writing about early today. You got this because, frankly, I forgot what it was I was thinking about posting about today while driving home from Tad's.

Ciao.

Twice now I have attempted to post in this journal in the last 2 days. Everytime something has transpired to eradicate the post that took hours to create. So I have given up. Sorry.

Oh wouldn't it be loverly?

You know how you can have those kinds of days where one little bit of not so great info can just trash the whole day for you? Maybe even the next week, or two, or twenty?

Yeah, you got it, you are so smart too. I knew you would get it right off the bat with that opening line. Today was fucked for me.

I have friends that have journal/blogs that I read occasionally. I busy my mind trying to figure out where their posts are coming from internally. Sometimes I "get" their hidden meanings and innuendos. Most of the time I am dumber than a rock and couldn't comprehend my way out of a wet paper sack. I am pretty sure that my hidden meanings and innuendos fly over the heads of most of my friends and family. You would have to know me extremely well to know what a day being fucked was really all about for me. I am pretty sure that I do not know a living soul who knows what a "fucked" day really means to me.

And honestly, I am not about to share that here. Not now and probably not ever. Suffice to say, I am feeling extremely irritable and sarcastic, with a serious side dish helping of self depreciation and contempt. That makes me someone you probably do not want to be around much. The truth is, when I am feeling this way, I tend to just shut the fuck up and go inside myself to lick my wounds and wallow in my own self pity. That takes a lot of energy by the way. So I end up feeling exhausted by the end of one of these days.

Today was (and still is) one of those days where death is preferable to life. It's was (and still is) one of those days where you hope that if and when you wake up in the morning of the day after that you will have worked through your demons whilst you slept. You pray that tomorrow will be better for you emotionally and mentally. You hope for all you are worth that you will just get over your bad self and go on with the shit of life without the "fucked" being in your heart and soul.

 

On a lighter note, I like the term family. It has a nice connotation for me. For some people that is not true, for some people the word evokes horrid and unpleasant memories. To me, family is a word that describes those that you feel closest to, the very beings you would give your all to and die for if need be. The last thing it brings up for me is people I am biologically related to.

So when someone tells me I feel like family to them, well, that sits pretty well with me. To me in my little head's world, that is a very high honor. Mainly because for me to call you family, to say that I love you as family, I love this person beyond measure and definitely unconditionally.

So for all you who consider me family? The feeling is most probably very mutual on my side too.

That's it for me tonight Gracie. So say good night.

 

 

 

In faerie tales

I think I'm turning Japanese, I think I'm turning Japanese, oh yes I think so. Hint, hint, snicker, snicker. I shot my wad today. Ok, not the whole thing, but pretty damn close anyway. And I can tell you that it not only was good, it hit it's target dead on and it felt wonderful.

Hopefully you will think this whole post is about masturbation. If you do, then I have succeeded in my attempt to mislead you thoroughly.

This post is actually about revelations and relationships.

Now I am going to ask you, how many of you have actually bared your soul to the bone with another human being? I don't just mean you told them about the time you snatched Great Aunt Margie's dentures out of her stolen Motel 6 water glass she kept on her night stand, and then buried them in the septic tank while the septic cleaning guys were out pumping the tank out. Something I am sure you wish you had made amends to Aunt Margie for since you were 8, but never did before it was too late. That is small peanuts and you know it deep down inside.

I am talking about your heart, your very being, the yearnings, the loves, the angst of your very core kind of revelations. I know we all think we have done this at some point or another to differing degrees of self revelation with another living soul. And in fact, with whatever self knowledge we had at the moment, I am sure we all have revealed as much of our true selves as possible at one time or another.

But of course you have.

Today I got down and dirty with soul baring. I didn't go all the way of course. I couldn't go all the way. Too much peripheral explanation to get to the point of some of the finer aspects of my core. But at least I was as honest as I could be within the confines of already accumulated past information. To go any further would have taken several weeks of talking. It would be easier to write a book about your personal journey to date and let them read it as a prerequisite before going into the even deeper aspects of core revelation.

Be that as it may, revealing something of your heart to another person leads to a bonding in your relationships. I know Bill Croft must think he is permabonded to my hip for all the revelations I have shared with him over the years. What I do know about Bill is that I feel incredibly close to him. I trust him with more things of my heart than almost anyone else on earth.

Today I shared a piece of my being with another. I allowed a bit of my soul to come through. Here are my fears, here are my loves, here is what I know to be true about me to the best of my own self knowledge.

From that a deeper bonding took place in my growing friendship. Your best buddy needs to know why you like to fish on the White River. It's not the passel of fish you may or may not catch and then release back into the wild. It's the way the environment feeds your soul. It's the serenity of the moving water. That's pretty simple, yet it's a part of your core.

One day I may take my buddy down to the river, my river and walk the bed looking for arrowheads. I doubt it since I barely have time to breathe let alone walk the river bed in search of ancient treasures. But it's a nice thought.

It's good to have friends. It's good to have life. I like life, I think I will chose it.

And if you remember then follow....

When you were a kid, did your mom change your bed clothes on Saturdays? Mine did. Right along with our Saturday night baths. We didn't have a dryer when I was really young. I don't think they had been invented for home use for the middle classes. So Mom line dryed our clothes.

The results were nothing short of spectaular.  Every Saturday night, after we had gotten out of our bath, been powdered with Johnson and Johnson's Baby Powder and had our freshly scrubbed bodies tucked in to our nicely cleaned and dried sheets. I don't know if it was the fabric softener Mom used (I know it wasn't the Tide I was ever so allergic to), the fresh, clean outside air permeating the sheets or what, but getting into bed like that felt like a sensual little slice of heaven to me as a kid.  It's one of the things I miss from my childhood. And trust me, I don't miss a whole lot from that time in my life.

I'm bringing this up because I am about to recreate those moments in time tonight. I seldom wash my bed clothes, put them back on the bed in the evening, right after they have come from the dryer, and then take a bath just before bedtime anymore, all in the same day. If anything, I change my sheets to something that has been sitting in a closet, waiting for me to show it the light of day after it was washed months ago. And I might change those sheets in the morning, after I have stripped the bed of it's clothing and thrown the dirty ones in the laundry hamper to await wash day. Some how it loses that freshly laundered feel. It's not the same thing.

At any rate, the pillow cases and sheets are on the bed now, the comforter is in the dryer and my bath is poured and awaiting my body to adorn it. The last thing I will do before I lay down is put the comforter on the bed, fresh out of the dryer so that it is warm.

A little Calgon in the bath, a relaxing and leisure time spent shaving my legs and voila, a little heaven on earth awaits me as I go to repose. Burt's Bees night time lotion for dry skin awaits me instead of baby powder now. But it's all good cause I do so love my Burt's Bees products. (hint, a good gift idea any time when shopping for gifts for me, that and power tools, you can't go wrong)

So now you know one of my "How I pamper J" things. I am off to enjoy this luxurious moment alone with myself. And now you also know how a Taurus really thinks and feels about life's little sensual pleasures. Boring, but we love it all the same.