The Hidden Battle For the Skies or How to Rule Others Before Lunch

I'm the first one to admit that my talents are worthless in this society.

In a world that must have a few parlor tricks under it sleeves that must be viral worthy and able to keep the long lost and much worshiped attention span, I do not register unless I make the moment happen rather than take advantage of the situation. Due to a moral choice I'd rather not use my abilities to take advantage of others through monetary means. Something about taking money for something so intimate would only make me feel a bit more whorish than most have already made me.

Was is the stripping at 24?

Nah.

And yet with Darling Violetta's A Smaller God, I can't help in remembering the few pieces of advice that The Old Man has given me on this very topic. It's funny how a showy presence always takes the eyes off the shadows and how the eye will always submit to the dazzle of nothing whist the invisible movement takes advantage of so much. Then again if you told people that Ninja were only hidden due to their social standing as peasants and servants instead of smoke and magic it kind of kills that wonder that lets us believe in God, Santa Clause and the Lotto. It's so handy to simply not share ones secrets yet I will as of now share three.

The conversation not had is always the most important.

There are many ways to say what you are thinking and yet only one way to say what you honestly mean. If you have difficulty understanding this I want you to imagine the human smile on someone who makes your heart melts. Those smiles are not only worth more than gold itself, but there is warmth and life in that smile that would make a boy a man. And yet, we know those who have plastic smiles. Smiles that from photo to photo masks emotion and make for a hilarious slide show.

Body language will always reveal what the subconscious say. The leaning, the tone in voice, pupil size and the flush of skin can never be faked without some mastery. Learning how someone physically hold their burdens will reveal how much they carry the world and how they dread certain tasks. Understand how small time shysters fake charisma will always lead me to think that something is being sold that I do not need nor would hold dear. In understanding how small movements of the hand will always attract or distract the viewer one is able to capture the imagination as well as show lack of confidence in the orator and the point trying to prove.

In other words, I may listen to your words, but I always study how your lips move. Also great in reading if she's faking and if he ever cared.

Homework: Study how Selma Hyack floats into a room and actually distract the eyes from her cleavage with her lips. For advance students, study the Master's movement and discover why his very presence inspire lust among women and men especially in an advanced age. Don't know who the master is? Then you are not an advance student, silly creature.

The art of a Cunning Linguist in getting that O moment.

We marvel at the sight of abs on anyone and in truth it's a marvel. Those who have accomplished such a great physical feat are usually ones we would like to admire and lust after, yet in the mind of the more advanced mind we can find something lacking with the individual. Almost as if one is eating a rich pastery without the fervor and joy. We are lost in why we are not enjoying the magnificence of something that should be so inviting and so desired and yet we are left hollow and disappointed. Empty calories with unsatisfactory sense of guilt.

And yet we do not understand how those who can bend words to their will are usually the ones we admire most. Byron was considered the first Bad Boy and yet he was a write. Poets such as Keats and Shelly and the Bard knew how a well placed words would move any group to emotion and understanding. I'd would incluse singers, but they need the assistance of a band, a music writer, cooreographer and other light and magic officials to sell their wares. Want to impress me? Freestyle or acapella without movement. Sorry, auto tuner need not apply.

Orators such as Christopher Hitchens, George Carlin, and yes Adolf Hitler (no I'm not shitting you and don't you dare call me a fucking antisemite cause I'll beat you to an inch of your life!). These men for their purpose have learned the words flow and how thoughts may be introduced to a stone walled mind into understanding and even blindly following their sentiments. Hitchens convinced so many of use that God is not great but an immortal tyrant who does not care of you and is forcing a subject to forever devote their life into eternal praise as an unearthly North Korea. Carlin showed us how the great battle is not seen (see The conversation not had is always the most important for more understanding ) but is always masqueraded in religion, fear, commercialism, and a sheepish mind to shallow rather than chew what is given. Hitler convinced an entire nation through rally, spectacle, propaganda, and myth on how the Chosen ones were vanquished by a racial traitor that sold their future and rightful place at the head of progress. It cost the lives of millions of men, women and children and by far his use of rhetoric and verse I'd consider the most powerful since it let able minded human beings to give up their reasoning and to blindly embracethe will of one.

Can your abs do that?

I thought so.

Homework: Find one of these men and study, not listen, to the rhythm of their wording and choice of words. What calculated risks are they taking and at what point does someone swallow the hook and refuses to fight the reel? Advanced: Explain what mechanisms have others are able to avoid being captivated. What prevents them to listening? How is this possible and what other rhetoric have they already accepted.

It's good to stay Jung

Jung understood the power of dreams and they symbols of man. Now before you think I'm going to get all touchy feely and hippy with all this shit......we'll you're right, but not for the purpose to connect you with your guardian angel or Gia or even your spiritual dolphin or unicorn. My purpose here is to understand the purpose of early man's need to mark the walls of caves or need to express themselves in a manner that there are no words. It's used lifelessly that a picture is worth so many words and yet we lose ourselves to the deeper meaning for simple bobbles on the surface. True wealth is always rewarded to those who seek the depth of meaning rather than the superficial.

You see a tattoo on someone. Regardless of who, the meaning is always the same. From the early forms of blood magic that every culture has practiced to the shamanistic rituals of those closest to the earth, man has always attempted to augment ability and increase meaning to their existence through signs and symbols. The power of a upwards raised fist, a man leading the way north with a bundle holding mother and child at hand, skull and crossbones on cigarettes. these symbol hold different meaning from culture to culture and yet the differences are very close in origin. Dragons as evil or sacred protectors of wisdom? Is black or white the color of death? What is the difference in a pentagram and a six pointed star? Or seven? What meaning was held from the masses that betrayal would only be cleansed with the split blood of the betrayer? Are Angels glorious creatures or monsterous appendages of a vengeful God?

Understand the meaning of what you see or you will never see what is openly said for those with power to act on.

Homework: Any book on the early symbols of man. Please, nothing too New age or clickish to find your soul mate. Understand the primal meanings of symbols we use today and that magic is not dead. Advanced, study a subject, be it art, body work, or simply signs and siglu for meaning. Then ask someone without knowledge of their take of it. Understand the meaning.

I know you're asking why I would share this with you. Perhaps I simply can not stand ignorance of any kind. Perhaps I simply want the motives of those who move in shadow with me to be revealed for the benefit of man. Perhaps I want you to read into the deep meaning of what I say in order to see what I'm really saying. And perhaps I simply need to expand my influence in order to accomplish my own mean and methods.

Yes.

No.

Quien sabe?

Then again.....will you ever know?

...such an old fashioned word

umm bah boom bah bay day

The wet air seems to cling to me like small weights as my legs drive into cracked asphalt and grass-less dirt. Bowie and Freddie take turns pleading their case on what the meaning of love is as lungs scream and mind race. I always had a special place for this song. If there could be anything to represent my drive in this world it would be this. Somehow I'm always fighting someone else's cause over my own crusades. Perhaps it's because I want to have a victory that is not muddled with confusion or pain. Perhaps I simply believed that my causes are selfish and not worth a lifetime to conquer. Either way, Bowie drives my own argument now. So simple really.

And yet there is always complexity to my simplicity. It's why I never do well in scan tron tests while usually gain the extra points in essays. To give you an idea on how deep the rabbit hole goes, when asked where we get the energy I usually answer nuclear energy instead of food or even my beloved ATP. After all, does not the Sun provide for all and even gives us it's merciful rays to endure the darkness of the world? It's not a mystery why my ancestors either worshiped the Sun or lived in lands where it's daily devotion was mandatory if not needed on survival. I know, I'm avoiding and dodging the issue at hand, but if I run fast enough it won't matter.

Pressing down on you, no man asks for

Did I mention how a young revolutionary tried to place me on the spot? What is it about those who come late to the party that somehow believe that we've been waiting on them or at least holding back? I was kind. I didn't tell him that the revolution has failed me or others. I didn't not mention how the real men and women in the trenches don't wear the party colors or even scream out loud the ideals anymore, but we work in silence and without disruption of any kind. Ego has long been removed and we tire of getting laid for the price of mindless rhetoric. I simply pointed at the smallest of the scars and told him to blog that shit. He continued to read off points as I simply walked away as I've done so many times now. It's much easier than to argue a point that is never heard.

What this world is about

Lungs scream now as I struggle to push breath into tight valves. I have to remind myself that it's more than enough oxygen and that I need to relax instead of giving into the drowning feeling. Ignore the sparkle fairies declaring Neverland has lost it's monarch and just keep driving on. Push through weakness and drive fear away. The extra step I maneuvered to avoid the remains of kibble it seems has off balanced me and given me the rush of adrenalin I needed to push more. The world can not do to me what I already do to myself. It's a sketchy victory, but I rather see my opponent not succeed than for me to taste hard earned fruit. I've given up on a moment in the Sun, but you will not have yours either.

Screaming let me out

I've been planning my exit for this December. I figured that I seen enough and that what I could not accomplish in this much time simply demands a change of the guard. Sometimes we can not fight the endless crusade without the loss of morale. Sun Tzu knew this well and knew any extended campaign will only hurt us in the end. I've already modified the rules of engagement and victory as I said mention before as I jump over to avoid sewer water. Amazing what a few nights of insomnia can produce in thought. My concepts of immortality and victory has forever changed at a small price when I come to think of it. No crossroads meeting or nasty legal jargon to work with when you do it yourself really. Pretty good run if I come to think of it. I've made a decent mark and things seem to be working themselves on their own at this point.

These are the days

I'm starting to slow down. I'm starting to feel the weight of it all as my steps become slow and laborious. It's funny how I always looked for what I can do over what can not be done. As a friend remarked whist we ate with well earned fervor that the solution to almost everything is push-ups. As simple as it is it's just as right as Nuclear power. I'm for it by the way as long as it's in the depth of space. It always work really. Lately my simple solution to all is to run. School is getting harder? Run. Issues with those who want a place back in my life? Run. Pain in my leg and fear of another clot? Run. Finding patterns in my actions and understanding how Frisco was the last straw? Run. Tired of running? Run. Simple and effective really.

People on streets

I've been dealing with my low self esteem and I've been finding some oddities in the logic. I know I'm not pretty to look at or even that talented. It's something most men live with when we can't start a conversation with "Hallo, I'm Brad Pit." And yet it seems I've attracted a good grouping of women around me. One guy compared it to a follow that some Midwest cult leaders enjoy, yet my quick rebuttal has been that following me is like following Forest Gump after he stopped running. Kind of tough looking in the mirror these days seeing how far I've come and how far I must go to simply heal myself. And yet, mirror always have a way of lying. It's hard to deal with the idea of my own attractiveness when I'm always living the same pattern of not being wanted after two years or so or when my use if not needed only to have people look for me later on. I never understood my worth as a human being when I'm desirable at first then tossed out as useless only to have people recant and realize that I am worth something, usually after the guy dumps them or uses them in the same fashion. It's easier to give up and just consider these individuals as mad. After all, if I was worth anything in this world I would have known it by now.

But it's so slashed and torn

Almost done right now. Just running the last leg of it all as I spot KFC and Winchell's. The pain in my leg has rescinded as the running high kicks in. It's tough to believe that I could not run at all a while ago. It's been keeping me intrigued and I'd like to see if I can get my resting heart rate down to 50 even though it's already at an impressive rate now. I'm in love with the human body. I can't believe how delicate and fragile we are and yet we are able to endure almost everything imaginable. If you broaden your view to a few thousand years you can see how our existence has changed the world. I could see it in negative terms, yet understanding that our time is not promised as those who walked before have experienced that extinctions is natures way of putting a patient child in a swing. I think our time is magnificent and if we include that out bodies are made of star dust with the dust of one hand different than the other it not only proves our divinity, but humbles us at the same time. I know it's still a flimsy theory, but I like the idea that we came from Mars. It kind of puts us in universal perspective. Hmmm.....I should listen to more Moby. Maybe he'll pull me out of this.

And love dares you to change our way

I think things will work out in the end. I could not understand why I was so angry in the first place. Perhaps I've made myself more important than I really am. Perhaps I've lied to myself and thought I could make a difference with in truth what will come to pass will and with or without me life will flourish and move on. Contrary to Kanye and TV, we are not that influential if we think about it. I can either try my best to convince others that I'm as important as I think I am or I can simply smile and just live in the moment. Enjoy what time I have as if it's my last. After all, you can either push forward for another day to push forwards through also or we can simple let the lingering taste of something sweet linger for a moment longer with no thought of it's end. I think it makes it worth it all really. I mean, what is worth the beginning without the end? How can we start again if we can never take our bows and wave to our 4th wall. for only an instance. It's really a matter of time and space. Hmmm.....I've always love physics.

This is our last dance

Father's Day

It's Father's day.

And yet, it could be xmas and I could not care less.

I know I may disrupt the feel good feelings today as so many other mindlessly wish me and other men a Happy Father's day yet it honestly reminds me of Christmas in the sense that it almost seems forced and fake to me. I'm not one to blurt out a certified greeting and halfassed smile to show others that today was meant for them and that they should celebrate with a tie and cookie puss today or what ever the social obligation demand.

If anything I see this day as a cheep reminder that I'm not worth anything and that I should be happy I get any praise at all. It's not too long ago, at least in my mind, when I took the time to study what my children watched and realized that I'm not worth much in the eyes of society. Now mind you, I'm not going to link this up with the ill intentions of any media company or the such, but it seems to me that can't remember when I've seen a positive show on tv where the role of the father was not a bumbling idiot or the joke of the show. I can't remember any positive roles in movies that did not involve with a crotch shot or with dad doing something uncool or just turning out to keep a deep dark secret that just lead to destruction of the family.

If I think hard enough I can still remember how my children was taken to another state without any notice if not for my daughter's trademark oops moments. I remember how my wishes of having my children near meant nothing. I remember how I tried to contact Franklin county in order to get a firm address to send money to so that I wouldn't hear of my children starving or going without. I remember bitter moments where I would get sparse emails from them telling them I'm at fault for not sending money for warm coats or electricity as I look into their empty. warm room and wonder what rights I have.

In truth, my rights cost a bundle. It means paying lawyers specialized with my side of the issue and telling me that even if I do pony up a vulgar amount of money for their costly and valuable representation that simply being out of state, not a woman or not able to walk into a court room miles away that I will not get a second look from a judge who honestly believe that women are the best care takes and men are know to get drunk, have heavy ring hands, and are the ills of society. Technically, the whole purpose is to convince someone that I'm a human being and if lucky a good parent. Not great or the best choice cause that's nearly impossible.

I say it's nearly impossible cause some years ago a young woman drove with her children in her lap, raised hell drinking and feeding a voyeuristic public with crotch shots. Britney Spears basically proved a point that still resonates with me. It took the televised implosion of this woman to the point of Dr. Phil wanting to get a piece of the action along with LAPD, Fox news, and TMZ (what would we do without TMZ? Honestly, they made the concept of Big Brother fun and a joy to see and expose) to prove a simple point to me. This was the only way I was going to get my children. I would have to expose everything to the American Public. The abuse of my son, the deplorable conditions where they live in, the constant moving and the lack of personal responsibility.

It didn't matter that I've always woke up on my days with them and made them omelets. That I've bought them toys and clothes to send to their mother only to get the rags backs. Taken them to doctors at 3am when they could not breathe or would have seizures only to realize that they are malnourished. Spend summers feeding them and getting them healthy enough to only see them revert to their sad state after a week. To socially remind them that fighting over milk is a sin and that I will always get another gallon. The fridge would always be full and my heart willing to hold them until they tire of me.

It just seems vulgar.

In truth, being a father is the best part of me. To live and love for my children made me a stronger person overall. To understand that I am their example and teacher for many future interactions simply felt like a weight that needed to be lifted. It forced me to try to understand them. To know how children thought and to understand if I was asking more of them than reasonable possible. I learned to face my own weaknesses and fears in order to bring a calm that no one else could give them. To teach them that I will always be there and that If I had the situation that I had it and that it was no worries. To back them up when they needed me most and to aspire for my own life a great goal that would benefit them as well as myself.

And yet, Franklin county considers me a bad father for not supporting my children and having their mother go on public assistance. They consider me a monster for not caring for them regardless of three months of calling their offices and trying to see who I can send a check to. I still remember what the social worker told me. Those words still haunt me and taught me that my fight was not over, but the conditions have changed. Being told that I had to interest in their case and that I had no right to know where my children lived, their financial need, or their health from California to Ohio. They would contact me soon or four years later in the form of a demand to pay child support of $35,000 for the neglect and cruelty I've made them live without my support.

So no, I don't celebrate Father's Day.

There is nothing to celebrate about unless I carry a video camera or keep ever bit of kindness bestowed on my children like receipts to an audit.

And somehow, I'm happy. Since they can change the conditions of me being a "good father" I can change the conditions of "being happy" cause in the end, I don't give a fuck what they say. I love them with all my heart and they're the reason why I get up in the morning and the last thought on my mind.

A bit of Forward

I think this is the fifth time I deleted this. No matter what gets written I end up erasing it all as if I'm trying to warm up the nerve to remove so much clothing to awaiting eye of spectators once again. I'm not shy in the least unless I know what I do instead of merging with the moment so please allow me to remind you all of the 4th wall we share in order to bare what I can.

Rules are simple once again, since there are only three.

1. What ever is written here is not to be discussed in person. I compartmentalize myself very well and knowing who sees what will only inhibit me from cutting to the bone. Comment all you must, but we will not speak of this in person unless you wish me to become silent and gather wanderlust.

2. I see you as you honestly are and as who I am. There is not romantic inclination and yet no money being exchanged. I will shed morality, confidence and self doubt in order to chase that illusive that that always remains out of reach. You will remain in the shadows and watch. I do not mind the glow of a cigarette or low whispers from the gallery, yet I remove my mask on the satisfaction that I'm am the exhibitionist and you my devoted voyeuristic audience. I will accept applause when done or even beatnik snaps, but standing ovations will only lead out out and not to return.

3. This is my sanctuary. Here nothing is sacred and taboo. I will entertain all and judge nothing. If I stumble on a thought that will disturb as I am inclined to I will juggle what I can to get to the heart of the moment and cut to the bone in order to understand more of myself. If you are inclined you may also learn in the secondary and ponder what lies under your bed in order to chase out the monster that scared us as children. And yet, I will not allow you to sift your hands within the inner sanctums of my soul in order to use what you learn to gain influence, control or dominance over me. As I told others who have tried, I have hard streak of suicidal tendencies within me and I have no remorse or doubt in cutting off a limb to save myself. I will cut you out, remove your name and remove all humanity from your person. You will be nothing.

My last thought of you always will be that you were nothing.

Understand? Good. Then I feel safe enough to start again. After all, whats the point of balancing on the lines of pain and enlightenment if you don't have a safe word or mechanism. Sorry, not god from a box here and I do my own stunts.

So if you are ready and able, on with our show.

Reflection

I looked in the mirror today.

I realized that the person staring right at me was the closest to who I want to be. I never was one to admire my reflection. In fact, anyone who have gotten to know me and is still around could tell you that I have a hatred for the person in that reflection. How I never make eye contact and simply ignore them and do what needs to be done so that I can spend the least amount of time with them. I've even gotten in to points where I avoid the mirror completely choosing to shave in the shower by feel when I need to or to allow my hair to grow as long as I can tolerate it until out of an outside need it has to be cut. I've brushed my teeth while walking away and used shiny surfaces of knives to see anything tha must be seen on my face.

I can not recount when my self hatred begun or that if it is a self hatred and not a strong case of guilt or shame handed down to me from those who predicted with some fervor that my existence would only bring woe and despair. All I can tell you is that I honestly would avoid looking at myself at any point and could not apologize enough that there is not socially approved way of hiding much of my face from public out side of locking a door. And yet, I looked into the mirror.

Through years of self reflection and understanding of my past actions, present thoughts and what can be collectively be call ed my dreams, I've come to realize that while there are those who thrive in the decidable of their own image and much of what it holds for them and for others I've have a strong sense of my own personal worth being less than most. Perhaps growing up surrounded by those who have devalued my worth in order to gain some control or seeing how some with narcissistic delusion have disgusted me in not caring in my appearance has caused me in seeing myself as ugly. Perhaps it's has been early years of pudginess and later years of a sickly constitution that has warped my view of my own potential to attract others. Perhaps I still see myself as an Outcast among everyone who in truth simply asks to be near the fringe instead of center. Perhaps it was in that self stated ugliness that I learned the nature of people.

Perhaps I've learned early in life that even though in my flaws, that I had some worth and talent that would set me aside from others and did seek to cultivate them. That my pursuit of language and meaning had given me lofty ambitions in standing in the lime light, not as Hamlet, but perhaps as Richard the 3rd. Perhaps I understood the nature of cruelty and kindness in a brief glance of eye and understood what an Old Man have taught me that I must always use my illusion to understand the hidden. Sadly, any dream of standing out and feeding my anorexic ego has died years ago with the snapping of dreams and goals by those who "knew what is best".

I still question their motives.

Perhaps my physical extremes have allowed me to see my true worth and potential. Not saying that I'm a stranger of the flesh. I've had my intimate moments where heavy breathing spoke louder than words and holding another in a safe sanctuary from the rest of the world. Even so, I've learned that my physical appearance was no factor to my mystic. It has always been my potential, what I have to offer, and what people saw me in being. While I've humored many in exchanged for a pheromone rush, I could never understand what they see in me. I simply taken every moment despite of the outcome as a saved memory for the cold days to come.

In my time, I've realized my potential not being ingrained in humanity, but as an act of nature. I realized that my role to many has been an entropic factor that simply sets certain actions in motion and nothing other. I've committed many acts of cruelty with my own hands as I've paid penance in hope of redemption. I've set rights to wrongs and taken lessons to heart. I understood that I'm simply a supporting force to many and in to my own rights not an individual. I've sworn fidelity to dying causes and sworn vengeance to those who could not reach for their own justice. I've understood the value of a well placed word and have even taken hell for an individual who in the end has written me off as an expense.

To say that I care what this shell resembles is mockery of what I stand for. Flesh can heal. It's a price for what matters and pain is often a path to purification. For creatures who are finite, on may find need in preserving this mortal coil while many who have searched for great calling have agreed that flesh is only an offering. It's a method of allowing a direct role in action while we have breath. It's a moment in which we can seek the true meaning of immortality, not in selfishly continuing to live, but in a chance of making true change.

Everything has it's price. You just have to know it's value.

What am I trying to say? What am I ever trying to say?

I looked into the mirror. I expecting a scowling look from someone who made others run and scream. I expected to see someone who has cause harm to others. I was ready to see someone who has spent most of his life righting wrongs and mending bridges crossed. I expected to see cold, judging eyes disapproving.

I found none of that.

I saw something else.

I saw a tired man instead of a careless boy. I've seen traces of hard earned gray and deep worry lines. A broken nose and scared face. Short hair that exposed kind eyes full of woe, battle worn experience, and a trace of hope. the person did not scowl or judge, but understood and could forgive. A small trace of a smile on a face not used to smiling, which gave it a greater value. Someone who has kept a promise, his word, and have shown many to stand not out of an inflated idea of greatness, but for those who could not. A face of stone sin cera.

I like him. I think I like him alot.

I could not help smiling back at him as he smiled at me. It's what I always wanted. Understanding. Someone who knew what is at risk and still knew that I pursued the greater good. Someone who I've always wanted to be.

As long as it has taken to get there, it's worth it.

Detoxing and Selfish Humanity

I think I was 12 when I learned how to Lucid dream. My father always loved books and would raid old dusty bookstores for old college texts that were all words and not pictures. Time to time he would have me read a book and then tell him what it meant or what I got from it. So at the young age I knew about Roman orgies and the true meaning of Easter. I also followed the experiments of 14th century monks who attempted to move a cork floating on water with their minds. I also learned that I can not have nightmares.

Where am I going with this? Give me my due and I'll tell you. In fact I've been waiting for the right way to approach this.

Reading as many dram books as I did, it was hard not siding with Jung rather than Freud. Well, that and I still would not have my first sexual experience until four years later. Yet, I understood the meaning of man's symbols. What they mean to us and why we subliminally choose one over another. It's not difficult. In fact the true difficulty is understanding the meaning of an object that you hold.

Lucid dreaming is understanding how you are dreaming and taking control of the situation. I learned this at an age when nightmares would shake me awake and not let go until the dawn arrived. My goal was to control my dreams so that I would at least be able to leave a dream that I did not want to have. So ever since the age of 12 I've had the ability to skip past the nightmares, awake and give myself enough time to go back to sleep and start again.

I've never knew that I would be causing my own troubles.

It would be years until I would understand that our subconscious sometimes talk through us through our dreams. With life today's it's difficult not picking up the so much crap around us including TV ads and the such. There is a battle for our minds that we walk through daily. It's what our environment is silently screaming at us and what we see and hear. It's what is mentioned with a laugh or what is between the lines. We carry so much from what we see that we don't often have the ability to hear our inner mind.

We often hear our inner minds when we escape our form of society. Most of the time it's a calm walk through serene landscapes or inside of a cab without a radio with at least and hour's worth of time driving. Our inner thoughts begin to creep back in and begin to speak to us. They tell us what we felt at a moment and what we think. They begin to argue and to yell if we ignore or run from them. They scream at us when it knows what we truly need and what do not.

It's taken me so long to understand my insomnia. It's kind of a mixed bag of many things, but to serve a condensed version, I sometimes do not want to hear what my mind has to say. I've silenced it with alcohol and pain killers, but it can only be silenced for so long. After a while it stops trying to warn you and lets you tear yourself apart. After a while you wonder why you have an ulcer or can not digest your food without loosing some of it. Or in my case why you lose all appetite.

December was difficult. It's always been and it does give me difficulty in understanding my place in the world and what I mean to it. having one of your mentors kill themselves will. having them kill themselves and not be near to prevent it can cause a man to drink his cups of gin. And yet, as I would stare into the dawn I realized I would not live too long like this. I understood that if I continue living like a zombie that I would never see another December.

"It's 4 o'clock in the morning, damn it."

We never like facing our fears. We never like facing them without any help or aid. And yet we have to make the choice of either running or standing still while we build up enough strength to take those important steps forward. Where else can we feel the most frightened and all of 12 then in our waking moments when we are still running and yet thankful that what chased us did not cross the either as we lay in our beds and hope that it did not creep in.

Who does not know that terror?

Ok, I think I have cracked this open. Now it's time to expose what I'm dealing with.

I decided on one of those early December mornings that I would not live this way anymore. I had to face those nightmares and see what chases me. I understood detoxing would be difficult and that I would have moments of hell and would even stumble along the way. I knew that if I was going to go clean I had to reach for something better than myself. I had to find my sanctuary in something meaningful and important. I won't mention what but if I did tell you, you'd have m committed.

Let's just say that God and I are not on speaking terms at the moment.

Through the past 5 months, I've been working with nightmares and fear. I've been working with others who have not idea how much healthier they are compared to me. I've had my moments when I had to sit in a public place or I would not see morning. I had to rally causes and ideals which so many hold dear and yet they have no hold on me anymore. To say that I'm fighting for my life would be dramatic. To say that I'm trying to save my concept of sanity would bring only uneasy laughter and a topic change. To say that I'm trying to prove what is and what is not would be best if I only admit that I'm on the what is not side.

To question one's own importance and meaning is a slippery slope. I've gotten a grip on the meaning of the universe and the secret of life, all the while attempting to negate it in hope of it remaining negated. Staring into oblivion with an option of not knowing what is next would bother most yet I feel well at home.

And yet, throughout all of this I've exposed and broken the last of the family taboos on a past that condemned all of us. I've helped children understand that the hell they lived came from someone not worthy of defecating on their grave. I've reached the most stubborn and angry of people to have them understand the meaning of it all and how survival comes at a price and how the dead have it easy. I've exposed how I've spent the past eight years studying and reaching for that x-factor until I had to literally dig up the dead to understand what caused it all.

At the same time I took a chance and played the fool and tried to give someone what they wanted the most only to discover they did not know what they want and hated me for trying. I still love them, but I can not reach them. My words hold no meaning and palaver hold no meaning. Perhaps time would reveal itself and bring peace to the situation or perhaps I will only cut my ties once more and pray that they find a peace that I can never offer.

"When are you gonna come down
When are you going to land
I should have stayed on the farm
I should have listened to my old man"

I've brought brothers together and taken blows from either side. I've had to subdue anger and do the last thing that I am never able to do with the hope that I will survive a betrayal. Everyone wants trust and understanding, yet we horde it to ourselves and we keep others at bay with threats that we secretly resent. What we usually want the most we ultimately end up killing. helping someone see that is nearly close to impossible yet it is more convincing after you've taken the slings and arrows and have not raised your fist in anger no matter how much you want them to bleed.

Trust is earned on the blood and merit of those willing to bleed and suffer. Sadly, we end up killing them and praising them as demigods rather than following the example.

"Look at the people in the streets, everywhere they don't seem like they care
And everyone is getting mad, it just seems like we've all lost the plot"

So through it all I've been trying to take control of what I've running away from . I do not see a future and many times think that I will not make it. It's hard facing your fears and nightmares in understanding where you stand and what you need the most.

It's a lot to be able to leave the house. I have to gather what little strength I have left from the past month. I've pushed though so much and I helped alot, but I'm finally down to the point and where I have to make my point clear.

I'm tired of being used. I'm tired of being taken advantage. I'm tired of being tossed aside afterward only to have people return to me and treat me as a pocket guru or safety blanket. I'm important in the range that I'm not a friend or love one. A human eraser who looses pieces of himself after each use. Someone who is only needed for answers and is treated like a $2 whore. I understand that most people do not know what they do or that they seem to think that I'm able to take punishment. It does not matter.

"You've come to love me nightly
Yeah you've come to hold me tight
Is this motion everlasting
Or do shutters pass in the night?"

What is the difference if I was drunk and plowed into people and killed them and if I had a heart attack and did the same? Less guilt? People would also feel bad for me? I'd be forgiven or that I will have something to hide and cover my shame with? We hide in our pain and use it as a shield to keep progress and life away. We use pain and past to scream louder than the other than to realize we are all in pain and it's foolish to compare it. Even those who see it do it. Everyone does it and I'll include myself since I have to "unthink" my thoughts and actions in order to do what is right not what benefits me.

You honestly make me sick. I'm not insulting you, you actually make me sick. Dealing with your pain makes you selfish and self centered. You do not understand how if you just make one fucking attempt to reach out to another person regardless of what you "feel" you can heal yourself and others? Instead I'm used as a pain killer and disposed when my effects wear off from abuse. You are all killing me. When did I place myself over any of you and say that I would be your leader? Listen to me as I tell you once more, I'm sick too and I hurt too and I have to fight daily to get enough strength to get out of bed and just eat something. The only thing keeping me alive is a flimsy principle believing that things will get better. If I'm strong I'm strong because I'm being strong for you. Not me.

I would have checked out a long time ago with Avey.

Like I said before, the dead have it easy. Survivors have to work hard to make it another day. Survivors have to do what they can to change their lives to live. I'm doing this in hopes of knowing there is an out besides dying. If not, then I realized Avey was right and I'm going out with him.

"What the hell we fighting for?
Just surrender and it won't hurt at all"

And so, I'm trying to get my energy up to go to class today. I'm trying to gather enough strength to stand in the shower and was myself. I'm trying to get back into my regiment of taking care of me and pushing on. At this point, I'm more doing it out of obligation rather than desire. People have no idea how they take so much energy from me without giving a bit of it back.

Can things be easier? Sure, but I have to start drinking again and popping pills to make things right. That's not what I want. I want not to hurt anymore. I want to actually to smile our of joy than social norm. I'm doing this because it's my greatest fear and the last elephant in the room for me. I have to stare into it's eyes because I know I'm afraid of it and it will take me regardless if I want it or not. I have to stare it down and hope it blinks before I do. If it does I know I can pull out of this.

So what am I saying? I don't need you if you can not love me. I'm not asking for sex or closeness, but an actual kindness of human compassion. Tennessee Williams said that, "Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another person", yet that's only half of the coin. You must get that back. We can not generate energy to feed others without it costing us. We need that sincere kindness back. If not we wither and die. Speaking as someone who has held his share of trembling human being and taken his share of Hell for others we need to overlook that selfish need to horde and start giving back what we want the most.

I'm not making a plea for help or saying that people should stop what we are doing and roll in the mud. I think the Hippy movement showed us that this is a load of bull. I'm saying that before you yell at that other person in anger or pain to take a second and contemplate their actions rather than condemn them. Maybe there is nothing behind it, but at least you'd be able to see their motives and defend yourself a bit more than to react. If we simply act rather than react to someone else we can make things better.

What ever. You won't You are all too ingrained in your own hell and concept of what is right. Another reason why I'm a dying breed. Do what you will, but just wonder what you last days will be like and how many have you wronged over stupid situations when all you wanted to say is "I love you and I'm sorry for hurting you".

Whatever.

Like I said before, saving the humanity is pointless. I never wanted to save the world. I wanted to save myself. In the end, that's all I have and that's all I will still have. I'm tired of false hope and empty words. I've put myself in enough compromises and acts of peace to know that humanity is selfish and there is not much distance in evolution between our reptilian selves and us. The facade of being holy, righteous or destined is a load of crap and you can make yourself happy in your own heads if you like. I just arrived at the point where I started from oh so long ago. People are not worth it. Person maybe, but people, never.

So in the end, I have to cut ties and distance myself again. I've made enough peace and love for others to benefit while my own bowl goes empty. Last time I checked, I never wanted to be a martyr or messiah. I wanted a bit of earth to make me happy with someone who will make me happy as much as I will make them. Her name is going to be Rachel and she's going to be a German Shepard. Position filled. Anyone else will have to make a fucken' effort with me. I'm not playing doctor or shrink with any of you selfish asses. Some of you hate being called a selfish lover? I'm calling you selfish human beings.

Sit and spin.

I have try to get to class today.

Soporific Longings

I swear I woke up to someone whispering in my ear, waking to an empty room. Could not make out what was said, but it felt someone was calling for me. There is some comfort in cold logic. It gives me an excuse to remain impartial and fair to others instead of telling them what I want the most. It's easier to betray my own longings, becoming someone's champion than to rally my own cause. I always seem to want what I can not have the moment I can not have it. There IS safety in my calculated risks.

Forgive me for being cryptic. Words have always held a certain power for me, as they allow me to say what I yearn to scream, yet allow me to remain hidden often times to what I wish to say. Perhaps this is a form of cowardice, as I use innuendo and allegory to hide my motive in the shuffle of words. Forgive me for doing so. The closer I come to inner feeling the more I would rather just remain silent and say nothing. I'm not surprised that my writing this is just a way of closeted catholic need to confess what I would most rather not say.

This has been a month of reflection. I've can not help to be revisited by phantoms of my past as I try to use cold logic to understand my actions in hope of finding solace in pattern and science. As learn much as I shared with a protegee, that I know my nature and in truth its very much like keeping a beast in chains. There have been moments when I lived in whim and made actions that allowed me to live for today for the joy of living. Yet as it usually takes me longer to heal when everything would go wrong. Having my heart on my sleeve usually leave me heartbroken.

It's safer to remain coy anyways, although I learned that I often have to think my way out of mischievous, Puckish behavior. I learned long ago to think seven ways past my initial reaction. As much as there was fun to be had, I could not often bare with the disappointment of error. Learning of the Method, and enveloping myself in logic and tactic has allowed me to use reason as my protection. It gives me leeway to do what needs to be done rather than what I want more.

Yet I have to admit there are moments that I wain from this protection. Usually I do need to let the beast out and allow it to roam under certain, guarded parameters. My risk is often calculated as I become the temptation of those who can not reach. I enjoy allowing myself the ability to become carnal knowing my sense of honor will simply keep me at safe distance. It's not mystery why I choose to surround myself with unattainable fruit than to sit with those I can become a glutton with. Some sins are always forgivable in a nuzzle and a loaded word then it is in an act of passion.

As much as I enjoy regaining my humanity, I long learned that I can not afford to revel in the such. In truth, I've lost many who still make my heart ache and left those who I wanted nothing more than to hold close and profess my adoration for. There is times like this that I feel for lack of value over the lack of nerve that I am never good enough for anyone. I relive the pattern in my head as it loops madly in me. If I can understand when one's heart turns from brilliant love to temptation, I can understand why I end up losing. The pattern haunts me still and I sometimes understand why it's best leaving someone wanting more, with sweetness on their tongue than to have them walk away with bitterness on it instead.

And yet, what haunts me is that once I get my life together. After retrieving all the fallen pieces and stumbling forward once again, they usually return. They come back. They come back and want me to take them back into my life as if they simply just never left. I can forgive many trespasses. I always tell those near me to never apologize and never thank me. If they understood my nature, they would know that I give of myself not to be thanked, but for a desire to give. I ask for no reparation, since it's all a part from loving someone. Yet, understanding human nature I soon learned that people want me to love them unconditionally rather than romantically.

It kind of breaks your heart, doesn't it?

In truth, I only have sisters and lovers when it comes to those who cross a threshold with me. Once someone becomes valuable in my eyes, I have to place them in one category or the other. If you are my sister, I will love you unconditionally. I will share your woes and fears and will stand against the world in your defense. Yet to do so, I set up a distance that will never be crossed. I will set up a boundary where in truth I can not change. Once someone is considered "blood" I can not hold incestuous thought. Although rare, there have been those who wanted to cross this and it always left me with a taboo feel, regardless of how tempting I become.

Those who become lovers I usually end up living for in the end. I find it hard not to in retrospect. My behavior even curbs towards their benefit as some unconscious element in my mind makes me take on characteristics that I usually do not naturally call my own. I know this because once someone leaves it takes me so long to rediscover myself once more, almost as if I had been comatose for the duration. It's almost like being soporific, as it calms my soul and makes me feel whole at times. As blissful as it is, I see now that it is not me and sometimes I simply see it as not worth the slumber.

I say this because there is some error in the logic when usually they become distant and sooner or later they leave. Often times I've given the reason of complications of life or another only to find out some time later that they just found someone else. The grass is always greener, no? I still do not understand though what would make them think that I would want them back in my life or that after they spend their time with their other choice that I would want them to return to me "enlightened" to how magnificent I am and how they missed me.

I don't mind that they leave, that I can forgive. Them coming back? Never. It's not like I never told them this or that they understand that some things I can never forgive. The list is so small it's relatively tiny. Perhaps it's the temptation of the forbidden tree knowing that I can not forgive this injury. I do not understand it, no matter how much I ponder it.

....

Perhaps it's why I've been distant in the past few years. It's easier for me to keep some distance between myself and another than to lace them into categories anymore. The concept of humanity often leads me to reflect too long. I get lost in my head time after time only wrestling with the why's than the how's. It's almost as if humanity is a walking paradox that does not offer any solution no matter how much I want there to be one. Perhaps if there is one I would not be here awake writing this, with apprehension that it's even being read.

Then again, confessionals are usually dark places where voyeuristic tendencies are usually the norm.

...

Oddly enough I feel better and I feel sleep return. Perhaps this thought will remain unfinished as it is in my head. There is no ending to this since I do not see one in sight. As much as it hurt me to say, I do not see myself finding peace with this. I do not see myself in that opiate dream once more. Perhaps it's best for me to remain awake and longing for resolution than to induce blissful sleep and tranquility of another's embrace.

....meh.