Running through the Dead City of Angels, Limping Pondering those, IF THEY WERE THERE

It was only just recently that the temperature has dropped at least 20 degrees below the humidity, that he decided not to soak his work out shirt before heading out. He wasn't too certain on how bad it was going to be and wanted some insurance that the humidity would not shut him down this run. He learned years ago that a humidity greater then the temperature was a most welcome boon when it came to running since the moisture would keep him regularly cool and he was not going to run longer than a half hour. Yet the past three summers have been unbearable in regards to running as to now force him to run 12 hours later at midnight rather than toughening it out at noon with traffic. Not only has his run times shortened immensely, but he soon realized that he didn't need to make his workouts hard on himself in order to feel as if he accomplished something.

That last part has been the result of 8 months of therapy with the only person he could trust fully considering that he had not horse in the race. Once he realized that he was punishing himself for his attempts at making himself a better person to appease hidden jackals who would just pounce upon him as much as they would breathe. As a result, he changed his regiment from running under the hot summer sun to running on empty streets occupied by the primordial roaches the size of shoes and an actual raving man muttering secret alphabet that would make Philip Lovecraft's xenophobic hearts melt.

He wet his yellow bandanna, the only thing he wore that was not black and tied it around his head, still wondering if he's going to regret not soaking himself.  At first, the bandanna helped keep his braided hair in place as she worked out, or at least it tried. Yet now with running at night and the need of cooling off with the humidity being a bother now being worse off than years ago it offered some cooling respite and often times he had removed it only to feel the once cold water turn steaming hot. Now with his night runs it helps to offer some visualization to prevent any harm. Even though he ran at midnight and cars were scarce he didn't want to find some rogue car running into him while he crossed streets that now traffic resembled places where the skyline did not blind the stars out.

Running in South LA, think Compton, Lynwood, South Gate areas, you have to resemble as much as what you want to resemble. Meaning that people usually expect runners at dawn or even mid day in parks and green areas, wearing all the paraphilia that would associate them with their past time so that most onlookers can understand that they are simply running, as in this case. Sadly living through LA in the 80's and early 90's, you honestly have to overdo it when it comes to skin color and area. In those years, he learned that sport jerseys were associated with colors despite how much you love the team. Even Raider gear in LA held an almost neutral color for Latino bangers and even if you have a mind of stats and records willing to share with others, it was best to not dress and be considered a person of interest. Sadly, doing so had changed from being unseen by the rougher element of your neighborhood to police. There had been an increase of black men and a few black women harmed by police and a few Latinos that the media are busy ignoring. So there were no taking chances. he will look his part, run on the street whenever possible while not distracting imaginary traffic, and even wave at them in mid huffing breath while approaching them slowly yet carefully.

Oddly enough, they had waved back numerous times already accepting that there is some sort of a lunatic running at midnight through South LA. It has always been a plan to out weird others into leaving him alone, and, as usual, if you can stun someone with confusion and awe before they can act it may buy you some time to survive any potential altercation. So he learned not to behave the same as others, but to stand out as simply being odd. That one guy that you seem to focus on for a moment before realizing there was no point. There lied safety.

Once certain with the prerun prep, he walked outside into a nearly slumbering night as he walked towards the main street. The majority of the people here worked long days and hard hours and would be awake once dawn became evident so there was no revealer walking about in drunken stupor or child birthday party that later on morphed into loud music with accordions, drinking from multipacks, or dj lighting. Everything was dead on the main street also, with shops here shutting down at 8 the latest and markets at 11. What remained of traffic were people arriving home from long days or even from class. Even the bustling coffee place on the corner that seemed to swallow up the street with idiot drivers making the most foolish of choices in order to order a coffee with chocolate in it and a reminder of life beyond "la Frontera". 

He waited at the light waiting for it to turn allowing him to cross as he noticed it kept cycling past him, ignoring his plea to cross and allowing the dwindling traffic to just speed by. He didn't want to cross the empty street out of some sort of respect of the rules, yet waiting two minutes for the light to change on an empty street seemed silly to him and began to cross, midway the light began to register his need for change as he arrived on the sidewalk with it finally approving his request of a safe crossing. 

Facing the now closed clothing shop, he began to stretch in front of it using his reflection as a reference. They just remodeled these shops here to have more visibility and view while running out previous business with a barber shop and this very trendy clothing shop that catered to one digit dress sizes with bulimia issues. The majority of the mannequins in front wore something ghastly and almost trampish, if he could still use the word in not shaming anyone's sexuality needs. Yet the clothing was awful and he wondered who chose to wear something so blatantly explicit without any coyness or even fashion sense. Mesh and even lace, as Madonna and Cindi proved can be a great boon to offer a tempting look of cleavage and thighs, but mesh boob window is a bit too blatant. Even Powergirl would question its purpose. So he nodded and would remark a good outfit on a tiny mannequin as a rarity while making sure limbs were in line with stretches and range of motion. 

He took a minute to find a song he could start out to as a cyclist whizzed by towards their destination. Once found, he raised his watch to read the heart monitor strapped to his chest to get a clear signal to begin. In a choreographed movement of years of running, he hits the mp3's start button as soon as his watch registered his heart rate all the while starting off his run. Tonight would be 4 miles. Since integrating these longer runs into his running he had seen an increase of stamina and strength. There was a time where half a mile would have him winded and even a time when TB took too much of his ability to even maintain enough stride to catch a bus. Knowing that running would always be his weak point, he militantly pushed himself to it while taking in data in order to analyze each run and the collective behavior. It helped keep his weight in check even before learning how to count calories and eat enough to support his daily efforts. No matter how bad it was to restart or how he felt each run was a waste he had enough data to understand that each effort, no matter how clumsy or pointless had a cumulative effect that always pushed him towards better. That his best run was an acclimation of numerous bad ones. 

Some runs were hard and taxing where he was forced to stop at several points to regain his breath and other where he involuntarily evacuated his stomach contents into a bush or curb. Some had him so exhausted that he had to shuffle the rest of the distance home. Yet with enough trust in his calculations, he always relied on his watch to let him know if his heart rate was too high or if he could push himself a bit more to max. Three years of this labor and he could trust how much he could endure and when he needed to take it slow. He knew when his heart rate would reach a false high and would drop back down before steadily reaching his max. Most importantly, he knew when things were wrong and when to stop even if he had to fight the urge to keep going. His obsessive data crunching and practice came to benefit him.

This was the start of a good run, even for a 4 mile. There were three main goals to each run: his first checkpoint, the 1.5-mile mark, and his sprint mark. The first was at the first corner turn and early into his run. Yet it determined how much progress he had made. If over 4 minutes, he was out of practice and would need to keep going, if less he was not only in stride with his conditioning, but it was a great predictor that he would cut his time by a few more seconds if lucky. The second was almost past midway after the first checkpoint and was use to determine his VO2max. He was aiming to at least 40 ml*kg/min as it was before, if not higher and a great assurance that he was in great cardiovascular health. The last was the last corner he would turn that left him with less then a 1/4 of a mile left to his run and was ran if there was anything left within him. Some days there wasn't and other days he pushed just a bit more. It was his way of making sure he gave everything for that moment. This was usually when he needed to evacuate his stomach. 

The first checkpoint was at 3:35 and was instantly amazed. He hasn't hit that time since three years ago and 20 lbs lighter. He kicked in slowly to make sure he continued his progress, holding back just enough not to burn himself out. If he was simply going for the 1.5-mile point he would have burned it, but 3 miles and tonight's 4 demanded pacing. This run had a light that normally would stop him for 30 seconds to allow traffic access to City Hall and the shopping center and library, but at this time there were no cars and he could simply pass it by or at least lessen the 30 second time. Afterward, his 1.5-mile point would be in visual proximity after the 7-11 and rounding the curb. It was exactly in front of the door to a convalescent hospital across from a catholic hospital his grandmother stayed before her health took a turn for the worse. They kept her too long and only released her when the infection took place and have her return days later. he advised his family to investigate and to speak to a lawyer, yet his family was too distraught to take his words seriously. 

He hated that hospital. He had his reasons and he hated that hospital. He notified friends and family to never take him there nor should they ever go. They left a bad taste in his mouth and every time he ran by if he only hoped the people there were being treated correctly rather than to let "god sort it out". His grandmother was healthy and even regaining her strength to walk once more when they took her in for an unneeded surgery that led to the end of it. They even begged for her children to "let her go" stating that she suffered enough, even though she would interupt the doctors and tell them to fuck off. Way to go, grandma, way to go.

Crossing the long light that shone green in the empty street it hit him. There was a small pop in his left thigh, almost as if someone threw a small pebble at him. Immediately every warning and alarm rose in his head as he knew he pulled a muscle. It was a ham muscle, not a hamstring exactly as he somewhat recovered from the awkward slowing and imbalance. He pushed on carefully to at least make the 1.5-mile point, but his thigh registered silently among the heightened amount of hormones and cortisol within him. He knew he could probably push beyond the pain and instead of a 4 mile he would do a 3 and it .....might be a good time. His thigh contested that assumption. His speed slowed by half as he took a few more steps to hit 1.5-milemile point and came to an abrupt halt. Stopping his watch and slowly trying to move his thigh in order to understand how bad it was and how much worse it to push that bit more. It wasn't great, but it ended his run. It would probably take him four days until Monday to run again. With that he found a suitable range to walk back and hoped that the endorphins would be enough to take him home. 

It was a shuffle at best. More than a zombie, but less than a teenager crossing the street while eying you to try and run him over. Passing by the 7-11 he noticed the Sheriff's car parked and even wondered if he should chance at asking if he could get a ride. They're supposed to protect and serve, no? Yet, the week had been marred with two more deaths at police "fear" and assumption that he simply decided to continue to shuffle towards home. He didn't have money to make a call and there were no phones on the street to make said phone call from. Even then, everyone had their personal phones now and they didn't have a LAN line for 8 years now and he could not remember a number if his life depended on him, which this was pretty much as close to possible. So he shuffled towards home down MLK. 

Well, it was a colder night. He was happy that he didn't soak his clothing for this run since walking slowly in this weather proved that his sweat was more than enough to drop his body temperature. If he was running this would be a great boon. Since he wasn't it started to chill him and knew he needed to hot shower soon. There were the moments he hated. There were the times when the imaginary Jackels would pounce from the trees and tear him apart. He was hurt and there was not much he could do, but shuffle. He always had this dread of being helpless. This feeling would only allow those who could not reach him before to set eyes on him now. It's why he originally would have kept running and been home earlier than this point while tearing enough damage to ensure he could not run for three weeks. He stopped only after much conditioning and experience that 4 days were better than a cane and 21 days to use it and still he wanted to take that chance despite of what he knew. 

In his experience, when you were hurt you were tossed aside. The lame animal trying to keep up with the pack with elitests prancing ahead. Sometimes they would slow down and mimicked concern and even pull it off if it wasn't for their plastic smiles and annoyed tones wanting you to "go faster" instead of realizing that this individual was already pushing themselves injured. He always stayed in back, called himself the tail and spent time with those who struggled with what seemed easy to others. He gained their confidence and trust and even told the same plastic smiles to fuck off and let them be. IF they need to run ahead do so, but they will not run faster because they can not. Few understood. Most make feign hurt and run off with their ilk. Tonight, no one would run back for him. No one will notice he is hurt and shuffling in sweat soaked clothing towards a warm house. No one will stop and he was more then used to this. 

This was his normal. 

He pondered on the comments of some articles, despite what people say about never reading the comments. He read them from areas such as Toronto and places in Minnesota and even armpit Texas which claimed the dead men this week deserved their execution simply because they could not find that ability of submission. That they died as the thug they seemed and not as the parts of society that depended on them. Blanket justification on how people with more melanin simply did not have the intellect to understand that their actions caused their death and everyone who faces off with Blue deserves their outcome. Some would respond in manner short of insulting them as what they are: bigots who have never ventured into areas where they have never been dominant in numbers. Places where anyone of color dread being stranded simply because the people of the area are the threat. These people simply laugh at any logic that questioned their behavior and simply stated "IF THEY WERE THERE" to every answer.

IF THEY WERE THERE they would have shot them down immediately. IF THEY WERE THERE they would have taught these thugs a lessons and respect. IF THEY WERE THERE they would have put some fear of god into them and teach them how 9 mm will reduce animals to nothing. IF THEY WERE THERE they would uphold the law and the right given to them by the 2nd Amendment that they will always side with Blue. IF THEY WERE THERE they would have challenged their Black Lives Matter thugs with the fact that Blue kills more WHITE lives then black ones. IF THEY WERE THERE they would teach these animals not to contest the WHITE MANS LAW and that they better get used to it because ONCE TRUMP IS president.....

...and about there is where one can not read any more. At that point, it's just a hair too close before someone calls them a racist and them feign more insult being that they are 'Merican and they this or that and you can almost see the post bleed in confederacy and only need Pepe to show his green smile in nazi brown. ONCE TRUMP IS always comes up. As if it gives people free reign to bring back the lynchings as they were before or the concept that somehow they had lost rights or even want it to go back where the nigras didn't kneel but did their little soft shoe dances that Paula Dean so loved. 

IF THEY WERE THERE weren't when the gang wars hit in the 80's. I was. IF THEY WERE THERE were not present to how congress condemned the people caught in the middle as almost savages instead of their own citizens whom needed help, who needed Blue the most. A decade had to have passed before people would not bother calling for Blue because they would not arrive or they would and the wrong people pulled aside. Blue increased their arms and aggressiveness as they stopped you, and questioned you not to ensure you were safe but to contest that they were the biggest gang about. Crips and Bloods and any other subsided only to have Blue as dominant. It's saddening that the "Stop the Killing" movement did not stop, but simply become "Black lives Matter" or any other group who realize that the majority of their youth were either killed or sent to prison rather than college or any other form of social advancement. Prison boomed. Military hardware boomed. Was it Blue or SWAT? It didn't matter since the streets became safer for Blue, yet worse for people. Maybe everything began soon after 2000 when the first camera phones hit the line. Perhaps it took photo resolution to improve for people to realize that Blue has a heavy hand. Rodney King didn't get assistance with VHS tape so perhaps Samsung or Apple are to blame?

 IF THEY WERE THERE never lived these streets, but boy, do they like to visit the area in order to get to Disney or Universal Studios. IF THEY WERE THERE have an idea of Baywatch and The Fresh Prince if there is a need for a more acceptable nigra, but people trying to make a hustle in Compton or Watts are no a blip. THEY, always THEY instead of the residents of or our citizens or even people, THEY need a better work ethic! THEY need to do this or that and act like this or that, never realizing that this community has been abandoned when the first dark people moved from across the river to these nice neighbourhoods. There historic neighborhoods regressed into Crenshaw or McArther Park or The Jungle rather than their worth. It would take a new generation of people to move back in and make downtown livable again. To make these historic places worth going once you priced everyone out. 

IF THEY WERE THERE people like their guns. They enjoy their insurance of safety and masculinity when people over here were shot many decided they didn't want them IF THEY WERE THERE people know that life is better with their gun because at any moment they realize something is not to their liking they can change everything with a trigger squeeze. You can stand your ground and state you had to. IF THEY WERE THERE would only take out their caliber freedom machine and pump rounds into the problem until the problem stopped moving. And if more comes they will continue to defend their idea of what freedom is.

All of this made him laugh as he shuffled the dead streets. He still had 6 blocks to go and it was already close to one in the morning. The irony of if he only continued to run he would have gotten home sooner weighted on him heavy. Yet he continued to shuffle without increasing the harm. He did feel defenseless, yet you could not talk him into holding a gun. He's been on the wrong end numerous times. Some by haughty fools believing it's instant power and others by terrified hands who simply want answers too scared to ask. Instead, he worked out, ran and looked menacing. It was more than enough back them. No one messed with you if you looked like you can deliver some damage. Yet, even when he was at his 128 lbs stature he walked some of the roughest streets through some of the hardest people and they moved or he moved. It didn't stop him and it didn't scare him. Outside of being at the wrong place at the wrong time during a drive by, he never feared the streets that were supposedly dangerous because they were his. He didn't feel the need to be badass because these were his friends. He was never one of the IF THEY WERE THERE people because he was here. Mind you, if he was stuck in the area of IF THEY WERE THERE people, he'd have something great to fear, but the streets were people too old to work who picked up cans for money and small children walk to school never put him in a negative light. 

He knew they were bad elements to people. And sadly they either got their worst in a pool of their own selves or in a prison. When they returned it soon because rare for those down with a cause to return to the life. They had kids. They had bills and they needed any prospect not negated to them to find work to make things better. Sometimes you see the old OG's and it's sad when they relive glory days much like Viet Nam vets did. They need a therapist not Blue on them. We focus on punishment rather than redemption and it made us to who we are now. People having to live with the IF THEY WERE THERE people waiting for ONCE TRUMP IS.

Once he was close enough he was able to see the seafood restaurant was closed for the night. It was more than a year ago when two large men walked in demanding protection money and leaving with the owner's life. Blue came when it did and nothing was seen of it. Why would it? People came out and mourned when I never been. It's mentioned now considering he would have ended his run in front of their doors. Now the closed building offer no sign of life. Even with the death of the owner it continued and it flourished despite of some act of monstrous selfishness. That's life here. Caught between a horrible act and Blue. Tomorrow they will make ends meet and hope for less of days where lives are taken. As for Blue? Why not pay for security instead of having the worse to come at a time they think it best. I have friends that are Blue. I find it sad. I don't know if they find it sad or if they are allowed to. Either way, this is how life is. No gang wars. No narcos or bald ethnic men shooting machines of murder onto the streets. Boring enough to confuse IF THEY WERE THERE people. 

Then again, darker shade of skin might just be all they need.

So sad.  So sad.

It was 1:35 am when he finally arrived and walked over to the kitchen. He swallowed two painkillers and sat in a hot shower until he was feeling warm enough to get out and flexible enough to see how bad it was. He slapped some ointment on the area and went fast to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day and he needed to heal in a world where people made certain assertions towards places they have no idea and people they can comfortably state is not them so therefore not good.

He survived the mean streets with no weapon, injured and in need of warmth and sleep.

A wall.......people want a wall.

Relapsing from Jane's Addiction or Knowing the Truth of What She Said about Human Interaction

I'm going with a new font and size. I need glasses and I realize I hate proof reading because I can't see a thing. I know, it's dumb, but sometimes I don't see the easy solution in front of me when I can just build the newest Acme Rube Goldberg device approved by Willie Coyote.  

Ok, not important, really......it is sort of, but not the point....get with the point...what's a thesis again?

*takes in breath and begins*

My sessions with the Crazy Doc has been inching me through some of the roots of my mistrust of people for some time, although I can tell he's been trying to get close enough to some of the elephants in the room that I may or may not understand or even see. I say this not being the type of person to deny someone's understanding of their craft and practice. I'm usually the first person to allow myself physically to trust someone's intuition and action. When I get a hair cut from from one who know how to cut hair I usually question their ability with difficult hair, considering that every hair cut I've ever received that was not a short length usually looks entirely different then what was intended. The present person who cuts my hair does such a great job at it I actually wait until she can cut it again. She calls it a "free cut". I call it just looking human after the cut. 

I'm not going to beat around the bush, I know I'm difficult even though I honestly don't mean to be. Often time I try to understand what I'm either lacking or perhaps I happen to carry something extra that prevents me from sometimes fitting in. Considering that I've lived my life as an only child and missed out on a lot of social interaction with other people my age, I've learned that I have to be my best playmate. Something about having another child in the function that helps you realize that you are one, you are not the center of the universe and two, that you're connected to others and your actions affect them as much as it affects you. It's funny I write that now since I always thought that I understand that. I'm always thinking about everyone else that I realize I never been the topic of my own focus or that I also need something along the way. 

I'm going to assume you already know what my roots are to this because I'm sure fucking tired of even explaining it, but in a short summery that annoys me more then anything here it goes. Long line of family trauma. Grandfather died when mother was 9 she had to take over the livelihood of the family as well as raising siblings and a mother prone to fainting spells? Hell, she past away two years ago or so and I still don't know what happened with her considering that there must be a cabal ritual I have to pass to get any answer that I at this point stop caring about. Yet all this paranoia, fear and even self doubt and pessimism has more then affected me in an almost needy/militant way of caring for others or just not caring for myself. At least my father's contribution of sarcastic asshole with puckish sense of humor who should never be allowed to be bored help balance the train wreck I call a life. Yea, so part of me want to nurse and look after others. Another part of me want to say "fuck it", and just lay on the ground as the world goes by. 

Fun. 

Huh....still beating around the bush. I'm going to cut to the bone now. Right or wrong, I never built up this thick skin that allows me not to care about people to the degree that I wonder why I'm not in their lives or even important to them. I know it has something to do with not having boundaries and basically a lot and I mean a lot of shit people have gotten their way with me. I think this part hurts the most because I've had my moments when I'm cradling broken people in my arms while they sob heavy to having to restrain others for something stupid they did or took until they regain their fucking senses, some of them molesting me, another part of them beating me up, an odd chuck of them almost too big to assume that I didn't get a overly generous portion of people who do both. Yet I always call it "doing the right thing at the right time". I never am the one who mutters, "not my monkeys, not my zoo" and walks away, especially since I'm just learning to walk away. 

I guess the idea that germinated with me was from a friend who mentions she may have gained a bit of my personality where I'm too open, too blatant, and at the point where my fucks have been given away and my shoulders are tired from shrugs. Giving it more thought I realize I see the world's people as a gamble. There are moments where I don't know if I'm going to be entertained or on duty with most people that I usually carry an aura of malice to just scare off the world in hopes of the bad people not getting near me. The second is a blatant, nonchalant attachment to people. I know at a certain point that if I don't connect with people I can walk away. Yet once I remember their name and a bit about themselves I seem to carry them with me. Some people I carry sweet and loving moments and other the last sip of cold coffee not realizing someone has placed their butts in the mug and you just had that going down your throat. So my most important line of defense is malice aura and just being distant. 

It's here where I can't understand. If someone wants to get a hold of you, they will cross hell and back and do whatever they can to spend 5 minutes with you. Those people who do not you can not move mountains for a second of their time. They disappear and they even try to remove the shadow of themselves. Being someone who has some history of picking out diamonds from excrement I know that its a crap shoot. The friends that I do have are worth more then the world to me and are precious. Yet there are times where we do not sync up. Some have families. Other amazing careers. Some have their finger on the pulse of the world and others are just popping up as they pop out. So I have a "live it up now because we die tomorrow" mentality when it comes to my friends. I often feel like I won't get all of their time or even that this already is an allotment that they are going to regret so I savor it as much as I would blue rare steak and caviar. I know these things are not every day things and I have no issue indulging, especially when I live on sawdust and mist. I don't even scarf them down. I want to savor the moment and burn the memory into as much detail possible so that I can least retell the moment to live it once more while I suffocate on my sawdust.

If I honestly give it some more thought I realize that the person I gain this fucked up mantra was probably the first person I should have stayed away from. To dance around the issue that somehow feel way to fucking raw for the time passed I was almost something forbidden. Most surely taboo to them as they realize that I was the most needful thing they have come upon, almost as if realizing that you are now focusing on your own breathing sort of way. I never really felt important, even though I have been spoiled, I never felt as if I mattered to anyone, even now, and I think this might be why. Meeting someone who find you as the most needed thing in the world is beyond intoxicating. It's the best fucking hit of anything, speaking as someone who loves coffee, yet never had anything stronger then prescription opiates. The idea of someone scarfing the essence of you down, that disparity is almost erotic to me if I think about it. That need that someone has for you that they grab you and pull you down, not realizing they're hurting you. That desperate need for this thing is a rush. And yet, I can not help to realize how empty it is. To pull from Jane's Addiction, I honestly only know when someone wants me. 

Not even going to begin to figure it out if this is an issue with love or need or whatever. Too messy and I don't have a headlamp and guide. I have to remain functional and I don't have a lick of booze to call my own. I will dance on the edge as I always do since I do have that suicidal tendency of living as close to the cut. 

So I know what a fucked up relationship in all of it's aspects and shades. I understand all of the difficulties and trappings and yet, you'd think I'd master what IS a good one from just going the other direction. Not as easy as you'd imagine. Sometimes it's the difference between a degree where you either freeze or fry. So here, I can honestly say that I had adventure, many I did not want. Some have left scars on me that don't heal and others just phantom pains reminding that I can never really fit in. The hard look always gives me away and much like birds of a same feather,  I'm attracted to the haunting look of pain in other people's eyes, hoping that someone understand what my wound is as much as I want to understand theirs. It never works out that way. I usually become a temporary bandage that holds for the time, yet there comes a moment where the wearer finds me in disgust of having served my duty and then pulls me away in revulsion and tosses me aside as one would something useless. 

Useless, if there ever was a loaded word as this. 

So I know when someone wants me and when they don't. It's hard to build a life with anyone like that, and I don't even mean sexually or romantically. I just mean routine. I'm as fucked up as most, but give me a routine and I'll use it as a staff to keep me upright. I'll live up to it and even make it flourish, hiding the moments I fall and break. And yet, I can say that I do try to be courteous to the needs for others, as previously mentioned. I know I can be abrasive so I go away. I return when they ask and not of my own volition. I'm just too used to being tossed aside to have that self esteem. I'd rather return with request then to chance people with getting rid of me. 

There are times when I attract the Doe eyes of fascination. Innocent, almost fan-girl attraction where I mean something, I don't know? At this age, I think it's daddy issues if the people who come near me try to justify their proximity with, "I'm mature". This is where the self realization comes in. I know they're easy prey and I can just take the fluff offered as a kind of sacrifice and recreate myself. Everyone does it. Hell, I'm still cougar bait, oddly enough. I've even met some young hard eye vamps who somehow figured age is nothing, need is more. Either way, I keep a healthy distance between them and I. I know, I fucking know! There ARE those moments where I do say, "ok, wow....those are nice....and they look so much fun and I'm not hesitant in not doing so because of that, but I need to warn you that I might ruin you as a person as someone ruined me SO.....yea.....please put your top back on, please?"

You will never get so much of a physical and mental "what the fuck" from your inner self then these moments where you did the right thing because it's right, but seriously! So yes, there are many of these and I do smash my head into the mirror in regret trying to utter, "you did what's best". Guilt is a bitch. I can not feed on you people like the predator when I see Bambi's eyes. I know, fuck me. I have a conscious. A loud, fucking annoying one that prevents me from getting laid and just being fucking care free, but a conscious all the same.

.....give me a moment.....

ok. 

So, yea....I have trust issues and I know I am bothersome as much I am tempting at times, as if I am the last soda in the desert, even when I feel like I'm strawberry soda.....which is gross....that shit is wrong among wrong. I honestly feel I should be lucky with what I have and if I get myself ok enough, I'd like a dog also. That's as much as I can expect. House with picket fence? Nope. Monogamous relationship without any negativity. Not going to hold my breath or wait for Sandy Claws. Hell, open relationship with various people enough to keep the boredom away, yet fulfilling enough to keep one satisfied? I have the hunch the moment I get near it it would implode. So, yea. If I can manage coffee while walking a dog, I'm happy. I'll take that as a victory. 

..........and yet, I can't help to miss people. Not as a particular person or group, just as a norm. I mean, to have a friend that stays a friend after a year or so or at least till the newness leave me is what I'm used to. After a point I realize that I'm straining to just see people and even like this I'm not going to be important in your life. I'm not even going to be an afterthought. So...why bother. I pull away easy. I regress to my youth where I had to find my own enjoyment with what I had and just keep me ok. I talk to myself, sometimes even argue. I read and do whatever I can to pass the time. I nap a lot, you can 't be sad when you nap. I walk and sometimes I even chance the crowd and blend in just to see where it goes. There's freedom in not being important. No one notices you and you often see people as they really are. It's jading, sure. Yet it's honest. I'm too used to this bluntness. It's why people think I'm carefree. I'm not. I just know I'm not even close to being important to others and the I know if I am important I'm only important as the image they made me to be. Some intangible character who I never was, will, or going to be instead of who I really am. And to them, that's more then enough. Then I become a fetish. I become what they want and I feel dirty and I realize I don't want people. I will go away. I will sit in my closet. I may even shed a tear, if possible. 

Somehow I come to realize I was always someone's fetish instead of who I am. I think that's how I lose myself trying to make them happy with what I never was.

So this is why I keep away. If lucky, I will discover a friend who means the world to me. Someone who I love wholeheartedly and can be myself with. These are the oasis that make me question my existence. I'm fine with this or being a fetish, but when you realize that both existences clash and that you can honestly be one of your choosing, you wonder why you can't. There is nothing more refreshing then a great friend, almost like your favorite song or food. You even ration them to keep that special magic of them in hopes of never losing it or even becoming a burden to them. Like I keep saying, I'm hard to live with or at least that's what I hear. It may be true or not, but I'm not going to ever chance it. Losing people that see me as nothing takes a toll and I realize I should have enough of a thick skin to protect me, but I don't. I can't even imagine losing these precious people.....oh, wait.....I can.

Never mind.

.....so, yea.

How do I even recap this?

I don't......I leave it as empty and unfulfilling as anything else. That's the thing, there is no closure to this. There is only something then nothing. No end or even reason. Just.....nothing but doubt and confusion.

Like now.

Sorry.

Shower Epiphany: Faith

So that whole one eyed girl being made fun of because it's ungodly story is a hoax. And I laughed. I know I was asked a while ago why I don't have any faith to which I responded by saying I do have faith. I have faith in people.

I believe in people automatically and believe they have no ulterior motive in deception or benefit in manipulating me. I will believe that people are overall good even though there are some individuals that ruin things for others just as there are groups of people who do the say, regardless if they have the best intentions or not. I have faith that people simply want to do what is right and I have faith in us in a species even though we have our odd prejudices and quirks that we can not shake nor in some cases would want to.

I have faith that once I gather all the inner resolution to speak to another human being that I will make a kind connection. If I am stood up, I believe I may have errored then to place blame with someone else. I think that if I harmed another human being that I can bed for forgiveness and ask to make amends because I to fall asleep knowing I harmed no one. I believe that there are great people who I adore and love and that I might have some hang ups that make things worse off and I am willing to work on them in order to make me a bit kinder. I believe that everyone has a story to be heard, knowledge that I do not have, and value in their smile. I have faith that we will all do better even though sometimes I'm sadden by acts of stupidity and callousness.

I have faith in all of this because I need faith in us. I can not and could not live on my own. I am not an island and I could not survive with out people, even if I tried my best to do so. I need to believe this since I have no proof in all of this until I have overcome my antisocial means and made a timid step towards humanity, even if it's to ask for the salt. I have to have faith that, yes I did run into some people that are made of suck and yes I've been mistreated by a good amount of them, but that is not everyone. That  I can not worry if I am being lied to. That they might just feel the same as I do. That if I try my best and reach out I will not be shut out or ridiculed. That others actually want to hear from me, want something to do with me, and that I actually have something of value to them that they will not try to fuck over in the end.

I have faith in other people and that scares me because I wish I had knowledge in them rather than faith. That every person is different like chocolate in the box and I have to see if we connect on that basic level that fightens me so at time I have to simply try them and see. Some people will not see my heart filled and fragile attempt. Some will just ignore my rare act of connection. Some might treat me rougher than others. Some might see me the same as spider does to fly, but I have to at least try even if I know what is going to happen. So I can not have more than faith in people until I make an attempt to find out. I think this scares me the most. Almost makes me with never to know and to simply think they're cooler and kinder than they really are and stay away.

I have to have faith that I can do all this and I can have faith in my attempt to be "people" even though I know I have so much trouble with it. I can only have faith.

So....yea. My bad on that bogus story. The things we learn, huh?

I also have to have faith that it's ok to be wrong.

So......yea.

Life in Hell: Are you too stupid to listen?

Because every time I feel like I'm making progress as a human being, I need another weight around my neck. Since you all love to laugh at my misery, here's another does of My Life in Hell:

*Approaching Old  Man as he makes his breakfast*

Me: Well, the battery is dead and all. I think I it might be the Alternator.
Old Man: Are you sure?
Me: Yea.....I disconnected it from the jump and it kept going for a while, but it would not restart. Hey, on top of your head can you remember if I ever changed the alternator or if we even changed the battery?
OM: *clears his throat for his long instructional speech on everything I know* See, what you have to do is to check the glove compartment for the receipt. Once you find the receipt you can tell if the battery is under warranty, which is three years.....
Me: Oh, so you remember getting a new battery?
OM: Ok, I'm going to tell you again. You first have to go through the glove compartment to find the receipt. One you have he receipt you can see if the battery is under warranty. If it's not under warranty then you have to get a new one. If it is under warranty then you know the alternator is off and you need a new one....
Me....ok, but I'm not worried about....
OM: Are you stupid or do you work hard at not listening? I'm telling you that you first have to go through the glove compartment to find the receipt. One you have he receipt you can see if the battery is under warranty. If it's not under warranty then you have to get a new one. If it is under warranty then you know the alternator is off and you need a new one. If it's under warranty then you need a new battery. If you can not find the receipt then you know that you either lost it or you never got one. Can you follow that or do I need to waste my time talking to you again?
Me:.......you sound like Graucho.
OM: What?
Me: I said you sound like Graucho right when his dementia took over and people had no idea until he gave interviews on how airplanes work and why they are called airplanes.
OM: You know, you really are getting on my nerve.
Me: *in aged Grouch voice* An airplane is a plane that flies through the air. People would would go down to the airport which is where the airplane are to buy a ticket to ride an airplane which flew in the air, that's why they call it an airplane.
OM: You are pissing me off.
Me: *full explosion of sarcasm* Really? Am I really? Oh good. I can check that shit off my list this morning right next to being talked to like an idiot. I asked one simple question and told that I was too stupid to listen or to understand as you rambled on how to determine if I need a new alternator if I can find some sort of phantom receipt that may or may no be there. You know I've been changing the parts on the cars since 05'. All I asked if you can remember if we DID change it. Not what would happen if we did or why batteries die. I just wanted to ask you if you KNEW IF.....IF......if it was changed, because I have no idea and now I have no idea if my cognitant faculties even work any more! But I'm sorry, I seem to have stupid up your day asking a simple yes/no question!
OM: *Giving me that hard look that I never give to you good people because it would crush your soul and make you cry* You know what. Let's stop talking. You're pissing me off.
Me: Oh! That must mean that I'm right in this situation.
OM: *walking off* Fuck Off! You are such an asshole.
Me: Really? I have NO IDEA where I could have learn those skills. I'm just going to go stupid my way through looking receipts now because if it exists then I know I done it!
*slams door*
Me: *to my self*  ....shit like this. *yes, I do say this alot.*

Moral: I think I can see where I get my stubborn ability to not admit that I do not know something. Funny, I've been working on this for years and I've never lost inches or became anyone's bitch or ruined the world. Odd. Then again, I'm too stupid to listen. *bows*

Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Twenty- Lyrical bounce while talking to myself

We sat at the white table together as he smiled towards me. It was a relaxed and lazy smile that I have not seen since my days of youth and foolishness. A time when the weight of the world didn't rest upon my shoulders and I didn't know that life would be a hard task ahead.

This was a dream. It's rare when I can figure it out before waking, but I knew ahead of time that this was a dream. We never seem to question the fantastic or the outlandish unless we are within your dreams. It's a realm that everything can be accepted and allow us to confront and deal with issues that may seem hidden or even misunderstood. As far as I can tell my dreams have always been a means for hard thoughts to come forward and catch my attention.

I knew it was a dream since I was at a table across from myself within a room where the color of the walls elude me. It was a normal thing it seemed, since if there is any moment where you would find yourself with your doppelganger. I would not say that he was my exact double since he wore his long hair down in a fashion I called my scalawag pirate look. He was relaxed and mellow with a few days of not shaving with an air of "not giving a fuck" as if it was perfumed on him. I could not really see details that would say that he was me, but the emotion seem to convince me more than a logical mind. It's like trying to read or do math while dreaming. It's not only impossible, but it's a fast way of waking you up. Especially useful if you are having a nightmare and you want to be awake quickly.

But who am I to question sitting across from myself?

What does on do when faced with one's self? How is one to react if you are sitting with yourself? What would pass by your mind? It's a question that we don't usually ask unless you are me. I've spent most of my time listening to others. Studying their issues, actions, and behaviors. At first I did it to learn to imitate others, which I've been told I do a great job. If I know you long enough I can imitate you in your mannerisms, speech, and usual topics that make you you. It is only circumstantial that I learned to listen to people and all of  sudden seem to see what they could not. I've been told that I could have bee a psychologist or a psychoanalyst, but the though had always sickened me. Being someone that is approachable and easy to talk to, words of others and not my own, I've have heard every horror story, fear, heartbreak and paranoia imaginable from my girl dumped me and I am alone to I have been physically and mentally raped by satanic forces since I was the age of 5.

Yea, heavy shit.

And yet, I've always been told that I was wise and brilliant and I am great at helping people at their issues that I must have my life in order. And yet, it's the riddle of the barber in which who cuts their hair? It's a bit of  a insult in a way to be told that I can reach into the hearts of others and help them find peace when it's the one thing I desire the most. The ability to put down things that I have shared here and others that I still have to reveal. Things that keep me up at night, that keeps me wondering what could have, should have, may have had happened if I could do this or that or what other thing. That I could have prevented certain things just as some people are willing to pile on the maddening idea that they could have prevented 9-11 or save Kennedy or Lincoln if given the chance to. Those maddening thoughts that drive me to doubt, not in hopes of making me a better person, but more riddled with guilt and sadness that I have placed more blame on my plate than should be there.

And trust me, I'm one more than willing to lad my own lynching.

And yet, here at this moment of time was the one person who I could trust on everything. The one person who knew what I knew, knew what I think and what pitfalls in my own logic that would cause me to charlie horse my progress or what other windmill that I would see fit to challenge. Across from me was the one person I could honestly confide and trust. Here was the one person who could tell me what I should and should not do without any thought of malice or manipulation on anyone's behalf I did not know and I still don't, but I sat across from Me and I trusted him more than anyone or anything else.

And he was smiling.

Me: So.....what are we doing here?
Doppelganger: Please allow me to introduce myself....I'm a man of wealth and taste.

He spoke in a lyric? Really? And yet, I understood what he said.

Me: So.....are you supposed to be me?

Doppelganger: I am he as you are he as you are me...and we are all together.

So this was the gimmick? Ok, sure.

Me: Ok, so....can we talk? Are we supposed to? I mean, am I supposed to say what I want to say and you will tell me otherwise?

Doppelganger: I'm looking for me. You're looking for you. We're looking at each other and we don't know what to do.

Me: Um...ok....so I guess I wanted to ask you a few things since I'm trying to figure out what I should deal with. I wanted to go clean and pull all the shit out but I don't know how far or what I should keep doing. I really don't know sometimes because it feels like I'm always pulling shitty moments out of my life and trying to figure things out. It kind of works, but I just feel that sometimes I'm just going through it for nothing. I mean, where do I stop and what do I do when I get there?

Doppelganger: I see you've got your list out, say your piece and get out. Guess I get the gist of it 'cause it's alright Oh, well, anyway, sorry that you feel that way. The only thing there is to say Every silver lining's got a touch of grey

Me: Anyone ever tell you that we're an ass?

Doppelganger: You weren't the first...and you won't be the last....

Me: Ha.....ok...I can agree with that.

*we laughed for a while*

Me: Ok, can I float some thoughts to you then?

Doppelganger: Your own personal.....Jesus...

Me: Ok....I just wanted to know if I still have to do this or can I just get over it all.

Doppelganger: I try to discover a little something to make me sweeter....

Me: Yea, I've been trying to clear my head these months and it feels like I've hit a few things, and I've really aired out alot, but I still feel that there is more to it. There is so much more and I just can't pull it all out. It's as if I'm only scrapping the edge and there will always be somuch to deal with and I'm never going to be empty.

Doppelganger: And so I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed Just to get it all out, what's in my head And I, I am feeling a little peculiar....

Me: Exactly! I always feel that no matter how much I get through that I have more. And somehow if I can't get through it all I'm still stuck and I'm never going to get to the end.

Doppelganger: I've been uptight and made a mess so I'll clean it up myself I guess.

Me: Yea, and it feels like forever. I'm tired of this. When will I be done?

Doppelganger: I just wish I knew....

Me: Wait....what? What do you mean?

Doppelganger: You an I, we've been though that and that is not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now, for tomorrow is getting late.

Me: Yea.....I get that, but I just keep feeling that I'm always dealing with this shit.

Doppelganger:  But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Me: Yea...exactly, but I'm confused here. What are you saying?

Doppelganger: When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live.....And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude...refrain. Don't carry the world up on your shoulders.....Speaking words of wisdom.....Let it be.

Me: So....so just let it go?

*I give myself that look of "well duh" that I've given to so many. Wow, I am an ass.*

Me: So should I keep on? Should I stop? Am I ever going to make things better?

Doppelganger: As you know anything goes....it's the end of the beginning, yea...we all know that anything can happen. We been through it. My mind is not here today. 

Me: Then where is it? Where is you mind?

*He points at me and it takes me a while to realize I had a Pixies moment. Man, I'm an ass*

Me: Yea, ok. I get that. So what. Just stop?

Doppelganger: Now don't tell me it's progress 'cause that's just a lie And don't even try to come with an excuse, why? We were so busy worrying about them dropping the bomb We didn't notice where our enemy was really coming from  

Me: I'm.....I'm too occupied worrying about the past? I'm dealing with the past and I'm losing track......

Doppelganger: Speak up....I can't hear you!

Me: I'm too busy pulling shit up that I'm ignoring now? Is that it?

Doppelganger: Little less conversation, little more action please? All this aggravation is not satisfaction in me


Me: I'm too absorbed? I'm busy fixing that past that I'm losing track of what I can be doing?

Doppelganger: Try to just let it go, Know that justice moves slow, But it comes in the end...I'm happy when life's good and when it's bad I cry. I got values, but I don't know how or why...I keep my eye wide open all the time....There is only so much I can owe!

Me: I'm working on the past while losing my present so I have not future. I'm spending too much time on the drawing board instead of out in the field.

Doppelganger: I think I had a song to sing and it went......life goes on.....such barrel of fun.....life goes on....Nothing going to change my world....I told them all to go to hell, that would suit them very well....Never going to be enough money, never going to be enough drugs and I'm never going to get old.....You live, you learn

Me: So.....just get out there? What if I screw things up? What if I fuck things up again? What is I ruin people's lives and cause them to hate me and ....

Doppelganger: What the hell are we fighting for? just surrender and it won't hurt at all....Your dog days are over...It doesn't hurt me. You want to feel how it feels. You want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me...All of this, all of this can be yours. Just give me what I want and no one gets hurt.

Me:But you don't think....

Doppelganger: Welcome to your life. There's no turning back. Even while we sleep, we will find you acting on your best behavior....Who knows where my dreams will end I'll follow as they grow  ....Look at yourself, man. You're a winner. You're number one, don't you ever forget it. You look good today man. Go out there and show them who's boss!

Me: Really?

Doppelganger: Was it a millionaire that said imagine no possessions? The masses are asses....well, sandcastles made of sand fall into the sea.....eventually...Cause love's such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves.....Love can conquer anyone...I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rinds But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside I would swallow my doubt turn it inside out Find nothin' but faith in nothin'....All we are saying is to give peace a chance.

Me: I get it. Just go. I've changed more than enough and not matter what I need to keep moving and if I screw up then I do. I should just keep moving, adapting, and be cool. So this is the difference between us? You got to that point and I'm not there yet?

Doppelganger: A friend in need is a friend indeed, a friend who bleeds is better ...but we got the biggest balls of them all! Carry on! I don't wanna stop.....If I had my time again I would do it all the same....I keep saying that it's getting too much, but I know that I'm a liar...I'm worth a million in prizes! Oh, well, a touch of gray, kinda suits you anyway, That's all I had to say 'cause it's alright

Me: Things will get better. I just have to stop worrying about them and just do. If I fuck up, I fuck up. I already know how to make amends. I already know how to make things better and how not to make mistakes and hurt others. The whole point that I've gone through all of this is because I care and I am willing to work with others and I think of them first. I am not who I was before. I changed and I'm better.

Doppelganger: The times are a changing. And in the end, the love we make is equal to the love we take.

Me: I'm....wow....thanks. I think I needed that.
*I start getting up and walking off as my double smiles and waves. I turn back and ask*

Me: So....this. Is it possible to do this again?

Doppelganger: You know my name....look up the number.....I'm you.....sad but true.

Waking up the Sun was rising high enough to flood the room with light. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and felt whole for one. Walking towards the bathroom I caught a glimpse in the mirror just passing by that caused me to stop. I looked into my eyes and felt that lose of guilt. I was looking at my reflection and I felt good and awake. I've come to realize that I'm not going to kick myself anymore. I'd done. I was done a week ago, but I realize that my act of faith has been rewarded. I find the proof I needed and realize that there is only so much I can do to pay for the moments in the past that I erred.

Life is good.  Life is always going to be good.

Shower Epiphany: Fear and Loathing from an Organic Source

So the boy got tired of playing a game I beta tested a while back and lI won't plug it if only it will make them look bad with what I am to write and I do have to say it not only made me sigh a bit, but it did scare me to the bone . And I need that.

I honestly need that.

Niche said a while back that " When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you". IT's one of the reasons why I love horror. Why I let it chill me to the bone and pull the nightmares out of the dark recesses and under the bed that as a child would terrify me and I know "we" had this talk and I've learned as an atheist that there is no boogy man, devil with it's pitch fork, or dark abomination that has crept out of the temporal rift. Lovecraft was a bigot and a social elitist, Stephen King did amazing drugs, and Poe died a drunkard. There are no nightmares, goblins and glowing eyes staring from the edge of sanity to tear me apart and yet, I want there to me.

I'll explain.

One of the reasons why I'm going to mention religion here is that we've all been feed a bit of superstition here and there if only to make sure that good children obey lessons that they were too young to understand and that if I think of it long enough a real fear comes and creep up ever so slowly. The monsters I was taught were never real and in a moment in time a frightened child within a weary man was freed from the shackles of ignorance and daunting fear only to discover something oh so horrifying.

I've come to realize that every act of evil in the world, most witnessed by me and some that have never come close to me yet still chilled me bone deep were not the work of supernatural creatures. The devil never made me do it nor can I or any other human being truly say that they were insane without a neurologist to analyze our thought patterns and map our what part of our minds calculated an action and what were crossed neurons in a short circuit of sorts. That when a man raises a gun towards another adult or even a child and that life is taken it was not some horror of unknown source of the claim of an evil person possessed by some sinister force. The chill sets in and I come to realize that we committed it all and that what frightens me so.

In my small moment under the sun, I've suffered much from those who not only looked as me but those who didn't. Older people who I could trust and those who used my honesty in humanity and kindness to others against me as a weapon. I've done few wrongs to others and have begged my pardon and done my penance until today. I've committed evil out of ignorance that still guilt me now and it has forced me to recalculate what may be and what I have done in many ways to prevent it happening from my hand or by anyone else's. It has shaped me to do as much good with my time if not to please some deity but to make the world a kinder place. And yet, in my time I've learned that abuse spawns abuse in other forms and that a harsh word may cost a life in the end. It forces me to pull away from others while placing myself in the way of any harm without their notice. It has taught me the value of "doing no harm" as well as learning that Krishna once declared that one may do by doing as well as do by not doing. An action for action. Thought for thought.

And moments when I am alone in the dark that I once was so terrified to be in I've come to realize that the evil is me. That the wickedness comes from those who walk upright on two legs rather than a bestial form. That children not held enough in a loving mother's arms or who have lived a heavy hand of a father will commit atrocities for the greater good that only serves their mind. On my horror stories the hero is weakened and many ways timid in the face of great evil. The unfathomable abominations does not ponder the lives of humans as we do not value the distress of the crush snail or torn worm. They witness sights that chill them and force them to resort to methods that often shun them as fools if not worthless vagabonds.

In the truth, I drink to numb. I will not lie to you or anyone else. I've drank enough to black out and to reawaken alive in my horror. I've taken opiates in the pursuit of remaining callused to the harshness of the world and the need to push back harder against the onslaught that was or never was. I've wept in cold moments and sat bleeding in occurrences that had lead me to rather die than to raise my fist in anger. To take chastisement in the form of a reprimand or a shot of anger against me. All the while understanding that my lack of sleep is not from a child's fear of what may crawl in the dark, but the realization that I am the most dangerous creature in it. That I know someone out there is screaming my name: some out of sorrow and few out of spite and even certain from fear that I will pull them back into the hell they escaped from. I'm not going to say that I am a good person, but I've learned that in order to have those you love sleep in peace and in solitude that the world is a beautiful place certain sacrifices had to be committed and I would rather commit them again and again, despite of what may come, than to have them take their innocence of only for a little time longer.

I know I am frightening. I mean to be. I work hard at it and take much solace that I can chill the heart of another in a breath's escape. And yet, I know for certain that there is no evil in this world that is not wroth from our own hands, by either commuting it or allowing others to commit them. And so, I refuse the scape goat and all rites of absolution. I face what ever may come and hope for the best and that I do not lose more of myself this time. What I commit and prevent will be on my own hands without utterance of spiritual absolve nor mindless belief that I am sanctioned to do so. And so, I know that hell is a now rather then a where and often time sit in the dark and contemplate.

And yet, it is a relief and fun to chill what some call a soul and others call a subconscious mid with a bit of horror and take my mind of what people will do to others to prevent of a greater harm. Forget that the harm done by some is usually suffered by the small and the weak and the innocent.

Or what Jean-Paul Sartre declared in No Exit that "hell is other people". Or as T.S. Eliot hauntingly remarked.

"I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

Good night everyone.

Sleep well.

Shower Epiphany:La mejor salsa del mundo es la hambre, y como esta no falta a los pobres, siempre comen con gusto.

I know I haven't written a while since I'm in a peaceful place in life. I've come to realize why this pisses me off: I am a creature of chaos.

Allow me to explain.

I am someone who is used to constant and never ending change. I am a child of Entropy and I thrive in continuing change. Meaning that if you put me in straight I will become determined and angry and a good chance of suicidal behavior that will end me up in either missing teeth or adding to my "collection". Not a good thing for me. This is me in constant insomnia, consistent pressure and odds are against me to the point that I'm a loser bet. This inspires me to and forces me to push forward for a goal of making people eat crow and suffer for doubting me. This has made me stubborn, but very recluse. Not good for a creative outlook.

In complete opposite, I get continual 8-9 hour sleep. Life is not only "good", but boring. It makes me slow and lazy. It taxes me in a way that warriors of old would end up going mad knowing that eternal peace would force them to dire measures. It's me playing three weeks of WoW letting my body to become lax, injured to the point where I can only wait and sit, it's me in love. That continually constant and steady does of oxytocin makes me ......soft. And that softness in my experience always leads me into a lulled mind and a unsuspected fall that ends up with me cursing myself for letting it happen.

You can see why I have issues with sleeping now. Makes me too vulnerable.

And yet, I need a constant amount of chaos. I need to charge into my windmills as only Cervantes could understand. I need to be broken and sore while having small transmittances of peaceful recluse. I need to carry a banner, even if it's a lost cause and a target on my back. I need to hunt and be hunted. I need to sleep and to dream. I desire the physical conflict and the mental challenge that life has given me in real and intangible means. I need to remain hungry to know how sweet food is. I need to sport bruises to carry an audience of my tales. I need to suffer enough to keep me awake and yet allow me to slumber for small moments. If enthalpy is allowed to rule then I know I am simply too close to death in one form or another.

Pain is growth. Growth is adaption and evolution. Evolution is immortality.

If unchallenged, why would I want to continue? What is life without my windmills? Seriously, I'm asking you. I'm searching for new windmills to keep me sane.

SO happy as I am, I know I can slumber peacefully and remain asleep. that long sleep will be the death of me and that angers me, not enough to create, but enough to know that I need to find more windmills.

Don't be food.

Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part eleven – Killing Moon: Prometheus Bound and Gagged

         I’ve attempted to write this a long time ago and have made many attempts to do so only to get up in embarrassment and anger, giving up on it. There is nothing so frustrating than to attempt to communicate an idea or feeling to others, especially if it’s in many ways too close home. You are immediately transported into your adolescence with full notable arousal while attempting to speak in front of a group of giggling peers. It’s trying to ask an adult something that you have no idea how to express all the while trying to fight the overwhelming embarrassment. It’s the moment where you meet up with someone you are infatuated and you both are walking around the elephant in the room when there is a surge of hormones fighting you in every step in the way trying to have you take more of a primordial manner to ripping clothing and fulfilling an evolutionary need that you still can not comprehend.

          Yea, I’m trying to bring this up and I’m having the damnest time trying to even find a way to even start it off. To be honest, I don’t even thing this will end up published. I have to admit to you that I’m in no way embarrassed about this. It pretty difficult much open to nearly everything I’ve lived and participated in my time and yet there is a gray area that I have to fence off time to time. Something that forces me to speak in the third person (not in that douchy ME ME ME way, but in a story telling manner) instead of using any personal pronoun. I have to find a safe place to distance myself in order to approach the topic properly and to be as candid. After all, I honestly believe that one’s sexuality is beyond important and as you can often tell there are some individuals that seem to live in conflict with it and can not find peace in the primary urges that drive up not only to survive, but to propagate. This is the kind of thing that most shove certain aspects of their sexual identity into a closet somewhere due to the fact that it is no encouraged, outlawed, seemed perverse, and even villainized by a hypocritical society.

          Before you assume anything, I’m not coming out. I’m not only straight, but on the Kinsey scale I’m either a hard 1 or a reluctant 2. Not saying that men can not be attractive and there is no possibility that I will never become a 4 or 5, but I reserve that clause in the same way that I will declare that I will never take someone’s life, life from another planet will not be found or there is not deity in charge. As close to a percentage, you have to have an error amount if only to show possibility and being secure enough in my sexuality I’m more than comfortable with saying that one should never say never.

          And yet, if I was coming out it would have been early on and loud. I’m in no way going to judge anyone on their sexual preference, needs, or desires. I’m in no place to point fingers since there is very little that I’ve not taken part of. I’ve always compared myself to being the Block instead of going around it. I do have to say that times are certainly easier now with the internet. You do a Google search, you luck up some things and if you are still worse for wear you look up porn to give you a ballpark idea of what the hell is going on, although I’d prescribe more than a gain of salt with some of the stuff I’ve passed by on.

And yet, many have already explained that bravest ones of us who are willing to fling themselves outside of the barriers of the LIMIT usually add breathing room of all of us in the safety of the middle even if it cost a social sacrifice of the visionary fool. As much as I’ve been into I’m going to say that my ice cream flavor has always been vanilla and yet the topping are more than enough to have me explain things to most that in many ways are beyond embarrassing. One of the reasons I rather not be in a position of leadership or honor is that my tainted past alone is enough to have Fox news scream holy terrors and may even scare away the Westbro kooks. It’s pretty funny as I think of it now since I was such an innocent boy or at least I looked like it.  To say that the best way to prepare someone for the world that waits them with all its perversions and dalliances is to quarantine them is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard and seen. I’ve always believe that inoculation of what is and what isn’t offered the best chances of survival. That and small doses with careful observation from someone who knows what the edge is.

How I wish I had that much. Then again I’ve come to realize that I’m the person who I would have wished to run into in an afternoon. So sad how we can save others and yet we damn ourselves in the process. Anyways, I’m stalling.

I’ve not only believe this, but I’m always one to back up what I say with practice. I’ve been in rooms with men and women questioning and asking what is, should be, must be, and what can be done. I’ve pulled men and women from heartbreak and nursed them back to the point where I am never needed and have pried myself away from those who would have me become their monkey wrench. I’m all for curing and never medicating. It’s a huge difference between healing and becoming dependent. I’ve not only offered advice and plans for those around me willing to ask, but my own children, offering insight to how the opposite sex behaves in public, behind closed doors, and what one can do to deal with each. I’ve given my son advice to not make relationships serious past the age of a woman since most young women are still embarking a self discovery phase almost force upon them by society that most men will not discover until in their mid forties. I’ve advised my daughter to find herself a good lesbian partner at least until she is past the age where men stop being worthless horn dogs while offering her an moment to discover what and who she is since most women face men who know nothing but what porn declares as a norm.

I believe in masturbation, honesty, and being open. I believe in the sanctity of a good relationship and the beauty of what love is or at least what it seems to be to many. I believe that people are all different and their innermost desires are usually often tainted with oddities of growing up and no matter how you may not understand what drives a person to arousal you can understand that arousal is universal. I also understand that some mannerisms are not only self destructive, but also dangerous in nature. Pedophilia may have been chic in Greece, yet was it understood that children are not able to understand the outcome of some choices given to them if at all. I understand that some acts are not only reprehensible, but pretty much scare the crap out of me. I am not going to judge someone on hooks being dangled midair, but I do understand that everyone is attempting to reach that mental place, that arousal that not only satisfy us as higher life forms, but also rejuvenates us once more. To deny this is simply destructive in the end as well as to take full abandonment to it.

Two side of a destructive coin.

The killing moon 
Will come too soon

I know I’m talking a lot. I’ve always feel I need to defend my points rather than to simply blurt anything out. I’ve been castigated enough for that error and so I must make my case before I feel safe enough to arrive at my point. It bothers me so much, reaching for reason and thought as my protective shield to keep me protected from what was and what may be again. This is how much it scares me as if to conjure up phantasms or the devil itself. I am trying so hard to continue this when I simply want to burry this again and not return to it until I am force once more to face it. And in doing so I might release something I’ve spent years trying to gain control over even though that the best way of doing so is simply not helping anymore. It is the monster under the bed. It’s the reason why I ended past lives and tread lightly in certain places. It’s the reason why I am known by so many names and why hearing any variations of them will cause me to run and cut my trail again.

That’s what I do not want to do again. I’m really happy where I am now and who I am, yet if I do not resolve this issue I will one day collide with it once more. To lose power over this would scare me more than death. If given a choice to walk bare and expose my physical shame rather than this I would do so without any falter. I’ve already have had some people “out” me and the kindness of those who knew me well have saved me for the moment, but not for the long run. It forces the larger battle between Will and Fate that I would die to win. I am not one who wants to be at the mercy of anyone and am more than willing to slice off the hand than the finger in question in order to save myself. And yet, how much are do I have left at this point. Chameleons can survive being removed from their surroundings, but rarely forced to endure a skinning for their freedom.

In starlit nights I saw you 
So cruelly you kissed me

I’m running again. I need to cut to the bone.

…..

I’ve learned to compartmentalize myself very well. I’ve learned that this is not only a good way to be willing to cut off the offending limb if need to, but it also prevents most who would attempt to. I’ve learned to separate myself through roles that the Old Man once taught me. I’m many people in one and in a time of crisis or when the mood sways I’m more than willing to change with it. I am Father, Mentor, Fool, Scholar, Hunter, and Philosopher to name a few today. I am Councilor, General, and Foot soldier. I am Child and Childe. I am Motivator, Menace, Thug and Victim. I switch role to best suffice what is needed and to offer in many ways a distant mind that is separated enough to see the moment at hand yet to understand the context to what it all means. I am someone who works best with that degree of separation that causes so many of us to falter when the time of action arrives. It’s the only way I am able to cut to the bone when it concerns others and why it’s difficult for me to get to the point now. And yet, there are roles that I do not often play now, but in much reflection I’ve come to realize that I can not play well. Roles that require me to do what I in many ways can not out of my own sense of sanity and wellbeing.

…..

Some time ago, someone I cared for greatly forced me to offer an ultimatum some time ago. To say that I loved her is not saying enough. To say that she still comes to mind in those moments where I gnash my teeth and curse the Heaven. She is someone who joins a long list of others who I in times of solitude often question and replay moments where I would relive in order to understand what happened and what changed and what was that element to force the change as much as a detective would relive the murder of another with enough passion of someone who either committed the act or had their life extinguished.

Fate 
Up against your will 
Through the thick and thin

I offered her a choice then. I always thought it was more than fair and it offered where more than what she could even want. I told her that she arrived at a crossroads that I had to place her in a category where I would need to deal with her. I’ve already told her what she meant to me and that I cared for her wellbeing more than my own. I told her that I loved her more than life itself and this is was the problem. I’ve told her that our interactions often bleed between comfort and need and that many a times she had blamed me for blurring the lines she also had red hands. I told her that if this was not resolved I would have to cut my ties to her completely, since functioning with her around have already placed me in difficult positions. I offered her a choice of unconditional love and love to which I was made to define.

I have unconditional love with everyone I care about. There is very little that I can find wrong with someone who I care for in this way, and yet the closest extent to any relation is that of sibling. I will support, care, question and defend anyone in this group until the blood ran dry from my veins. I understand that people make mistakes and that they need understanding and support even if you find them wrong in their actions. These are my closest circle, which I have to say is very limited in number. There are very few people I would go to the ends of the world for and they were it.

Love on the other had was not unconditional, yet I’ve always has the most minimum parameters I could ever have. I also love and care for these people yet I would not draw any blind eye. Their lives are precious to me and I always worked hard at making them happy the same with unconditional and yet, I do believe in commitment. I believe in monogamy, faithfulness, and thinking in them over myself. Sadly, I can say that all of this is difficult for me as cats jumping into cold water. I’ve never had difficulty with monogamy, even when tempted with something or someone greater than who I’ve committed myself with. It’s not in my nature. I do not break a bond. Bonds are life and I would give my life before letting my bond break as well as my word.

And yet, I have had the hardest time with faith. As defined it is the complete trust and confidence in someone or something, usually based in apprehension over proof. I understand that when in a relationship you basically continue on with everything as being best until one person decided they have had enough. The idea that someone can quit and walk away is a real fear to me since for one, it has always happened to me the majority of the time. I have a season where I’m irresistible and I have a moment where I’m not worth anyone’s time. I can recover from this with time and enough licking of my wounds, but the majority of time they want to come back, usually to be pardoned from their infidelity a desire to continue on. If I was going to be a stickler I would judge them in the parameters of Christ I would simply state that as they sinned in their hearts they sinned in their actions, meaning they thought about it so they already decided. And yet, I’m more compassionate that that. I understand people make mistakes and people want what ever that given them comfort and that feeling of safety and love. We’ll my price is simple. I would let go willingly if someone says they have thoughts and want to try something else. Fine, but to already have their move prepared so that I fall crumbled in a heap while they move into someone else’s arms is what hurts the most. That assumed and salting of any path of return has already been taken only to have them want to return when things are not as right.

Sorry, I never salt the path, but I damn sure make certain that the path ends at that salting. There is not coming back. At first I actually spent time to listen and to tear my own heart for the sake of sating my own curiosity, not only why people leave, but why do they come back. After a while it didn’t matter. The reasons for leaving are many and any that overlapped I’ve worked hard at taking that criticism to heart if only to improve what faults are of mine with enough time to heal. I do not bed hop. And yet, the reason on why they come back is always the same. So much that is hurts now to write it.

I was loving and caring. Made them the feel that they were the center of my universe and take interest in their wellbeing. Simply put, they love the fact that I gave them that unconditional love that made them better people overall and yet were surprised that with this ending I not only because withdrawn, but disappeared. What they wanted from me was to be a sibling and not a lover. That kind of stings. They some how believed that if they told me that they were improving their lives by removing me for whatever reason that I would simply give a smiling nod of approval. I remember one who explained how they found themselves and once they found themselves they wanted to share themselves with me now in which they were shocked with my question, if they fucked them. Not only was she shocked that I was not happy for her, but that I would even say such a thing to her. She honestly didn’t understand that she left me feeling unwanted and feeling worthless. She wanted to return that happy loving time and yet had no idea what was me loving her rather than her feeling of wholeness.

Nothing can ever get you to understand someone telling you that your love had made them so much better of a human being that they realize they didn’t want you to love them anymore. I can’t never understand if I live to 1000 that they some how wanted me to be happy for them. They never wanted me as a lover, but as a loving brother…..that they fucked time to time.

Yea…..yea…..just so fucked up.

See how I wish I was out of the closet? I don’t think this would be an issue. No, I’ve asked. It’s not. There are some heavy shit yes, but nothing as mind fuckingly bad as this kind of shit. Just a feeling of being disposable. You don’t thank your deodorant, toothpaste, toilet roll, or condom when you are done, do you? You just toss it in the trash and carry on. I’ve learned enough that I’m not only disposable, but that I have a couple good years AT BEST before I’m dropped without a second thought. I‘ve timed it. I’ve even timed how long it takes for someone to run back. I’ve covered my tracks behind me with enough feelers to know when they’re looking. How the fuck can I be disposable and yet valuable.

Your lips a magic world 
Your sky all hung with jewels 

And so I’ve withdrawn so much. I’ve made rules to ensure that there is a two degree of separation from me and any one I’ve come into contact. I’ve not only made it a chip on my shoulder, but made it part of the uniform. I’ve given up with looking human or even trying to seem attractive. I’ve walked away from blatant offers and quick sex, learning that anyone who make said offers have more issues that I want to deal with. I’ve carved a nice island for myself and I’m chained Prometheus down. If I can further change my attributes to be asexual I would have done so by now. I’ve given women the, “lets not fuck things up by having sex” talk before it was even in their minds. Sure that’s a bit…..sadistic, but hell I like them to think that I’m not interest in them rather than to be tossed aside when done. If there was a part of me I can remove or add to be fine with this I would have. And yet, I am simple person. See, vanilla. Vanilla all the way between the toppings.

Though I know it must be the killing time 
Unwillingly mine

And yet, this is no my issue. The issue is that I honestly deny my own sexuality. It takes a lot of effort, exercise, hobbies and drinking to do so, but it’s possible. And yet there are moments that I simply…..erupt for a lack of a better word, but still a funny one (ha…what would I be without humor…oh that’s right, dead). There are moments that I can not hold back and yes, I do get affectionate. Very affectionate. I’m going to hold back when and the symptoms since I know that many read and others plan. There are moments where I simply can not hold back and I have to woo. As if a fish finally reaches water I struggle and relish that I’m back in my element. And in those times I’ve to say I’ve ruined many a friendship. I’ve probably threw away relationships that would have lasted me today if I didn’t end up sleeping with them. I have my weak moments, I will admit this.

He will wait until 
You give yourself to him

Worse off is when certain people learn of my “locks” and realize that with the right “key” Prometheus is released. I’ve been in rooms with ex’s who slowly have made their way towards me and open these locks on purpose only to reduce me to what I fear the most: Weak, yielding, and submissive. My ex wife knew of 5. Most women find two and used them well to reduce me to a fool. It’s one thing to be in a trusting relationship with someone who you love and care for and they are able with a bit of pressure, a slight touch or a simple caress to reduce you to jelly. An ex? Hell and all kinds of chaos follows that. With this information I’ve been placed more than my share of compromising positions.

In starlit nights I saw you 
So cruelly you kissed me

So if we do our mental math we arrive at someone who works so damn hard to have control over his life to the point of removing all the x factors only to be in truth someone who in the touch of a hand to become what he fears the most. And in the end, I’ve ended up many times as a second grade above a vibrator. Any intelligence and reserve is gone as I slowly think events over the walk of shame. At what point does one regain dignity and a healthy ego when you are reduced to a toy to satisfy the hungers of others only to be tossed aside. Don’t ask me how whores feel or where do they go since I’ll break your heart and tear your soul telling you.

Under blue moon I saw you 
So soon you'll take me 
Up in your arms 
Too late to beg you or cancel it 
Though I know it must be the killing time 

          That Used feeling. That worthless, used feeling never really leaves you. Especially when you can associate it with a face and name. Huh……what else could I do but to compartmentalize, have frustrated sex when it happens and leave someone satisfied and happy knowing that one day they’ll just stop calling. And that is the risk as I see it. Seeing no solution to it but try to muster the “faith” and see if (when) it ends or simply compartmentalize and keep within the same cycle. As much as I want to find a simple answer or to understand how things are resolved I’m just here again.

Unwillingly mine

As hard as I am on myself, I know this is a big step. I’ve been trying to somehow get an idea of how big this was and figuring it out has not only helped me understand a few things about myself in the long run but it has made me question what I’m going to do about it. I still don’t know and chances are I’ll try to simply move on and figure it out slowly in time. As much as I would like to find a bow and top it off and give that stupid 80’s laugh that is popular now at the end of tv episodes. It’s going to take me some time to reevaluate what my worth is and to try to build up some confidence in order to even question a new move. I just know that things can not go on as they have. I’m tired of being a toy. I want to feel like I’m worth something. Not valuable, but not so easily thrown away. And as much as I like to think I’ve done enough by myself and would love to believe that I’m above the thoughts of others and how they see me I have to admit I’m not. You have to care a bit to simply ignore it all.

Ha ha…..imagine that. I’m not as hollow as some would say. And even now I can tell I haven’t hit the bull’s eye yet. Geesh…I’m a mess.

I still want a smoke.