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.

Dios Ex Machina Infractus

"El diablo es de gran alcance no porque él es malvado, pero porque él es viejo."

There is something to be said for ceremony, even though I can't help to believe that most of it is based on superstition. They hold people together who originally huddled together in the darkness of time and stared out into the abyss of nothing. We hold on to them so long that we lose the meaning of why we do them and simply blindly follow them out of some sort of duty and obligation that no one dares to question.

I think this is what would classify me as evil really in an olde Biblical sense which is associated with stoning and sacrificing calf to an angry deity as we wait for the reincarnation of a David to lead our Armies against an evil that had lost it's meaning. I dare to question when most would see it as sacrilegious and dangerous. And it's true, if I was in another part of the world a primitive form of the Thought Police would come for me and sever my cortex from where my thoughts keep me awake and thank the maker for doing their righteous duty.

I think I can question cause in truth I can say that I have play numerous roles in this situation. I know how blind devotion cause lead a man to fall and to allow insidious thought that caused fire to fall from grace and turn to our nightmare under our beds. Then again, I'm a romantic and partial Milton's Satan not because I have a child's imagination of what is and what should be, but because I've walked in his footsteps I've also gnashed my teeth at the heaven in hopes of a solution from above instead of my agnostic doubt.

There are moments in time when I find my words fail me. I write in some desperate hope of finding some sort of solution or to see what I can work with my own hands cause I'm am told that I will be helped if I help myself even though I've never seen the cavalry arrive when I so wished it to.

I've spent the past couple of weeks mentally pacing at everything set before me and I have to be honest, it frightens me so. I've seen this day coming for some time, but I always hoped that I can make it through somehow and make things right. In fact, if I knew I would have arrived at this point I would have not have boldly taken measure to place myself in this situation. And yet, I've honestly have to say that no matter what may come it will not end nicely.

And yet moments like these I can not help to try to find the third option. I learned early that the game is usually played with a set of rules that offer a progressive pace to a game which so many are willing to take part and not question, yet if for a single moment we stop and redefine what are the end results we somehow can not see anything but winners and losers. Yet, if we can redefine how the game is played and how we follow the rules we can always redefine the outcome. It's sometimes how we can cheat death or leave the game taking the sweetness from losing.

This is often a desperate resort to those who I often call Survivors. I still wait for the heaven to boom it down. I still wait for the numbers to add up. I wait for a sage to give me a straight answer rather than to allow my own interpretation to manifest. I can not help to ask the questions that many refuse to answer. I can not help to feel that I need to return with an answer. Something that people will accept and find solitude while I remain vigilante.

There is so much to say and yet I feel that I've already said it in every possible way. I've made my words and actions the same. I've pushed on with brave faces and smile as poster children are supposed to, to some sort of gains which people can hold up and thank. I've sat in darkness with only empty bottles to console me and to remove the bitter taste of losing another inch. I've stopped celebrating and consoling at this point only to know that as long as I have tomorrow I will continue on this Sisyphean existence. Survivors learn to take what they need and to abandon what they soon lean they do not need. To travel light and to move unseen least difficulty acknowledge our efforts and decide to challenge us further. I understand that things will get better and I know that when moments are finally good to enjoy the taste of not victory, but of solitude before the beginning of another trial.

There is always another trial.

Always outnumbered and always outgunned.

There is a reason why I'm saying this. In a way, this is as close as I can lie to myself without having my hypocrisy call me on it. In a way, I finally understood the meaning of my questioning my answers and answering my questions. I've finally seen the the difference of losing and winning in this situation and I have to be honest now. Why I haven't tasted my own end at this point is something I've question now. If it's held on some remains of a code passed down to me that I now suffocate on or if there is some sort of flair of ending that I must please those who still watch this macabre action. It's why I honestly wish that there is no one watching over me in fear of me casting a finger of indictment towards the cruel and sadistic.

I would at this point pray that the machine is broken. God is dead.....or killed....or the top layer of the tower is empty, than to be the point of a moral or of an experiment for cold calculating minds.

There is only so much one can take and there is so much one can give up.

As I said before, I am a survivor. Childe of Survivor. People who in truth should not complain after they have made through. After all, those who walk away and have not otter scars do not have reason to complain. This had finally became clear just yesterday. The cold fact that stares at you as you stare at it.

I study motive and action for meaning. I question, research and offer hope to others who sadly look to me for answers I do not have. I fight where no one see and come to the aid of those who have no one. I try to make every action and word have some sort of meaning, wasting no second on frivolous chases. My eyes do look over to my Windmills. My thoughts do escape between the twilight of sleep and consciousness to rare moment and stolen time when I can be who I wish to be and forget who I am. Sometimes people get the rare sight of who I was, am, may or can still be and it bring me a joy and love that at my naked moment, where I do not defend myself from Secret Wars, that I do shine out for the moment and simply be.

Buddha mentioned that if we can lose ourselves in the moment that we arrive to the truth of who we are and what we are. We become not what the situation makes us or how society, people, life, family, obligation, past, sins, shame, desire, or need makes us, but we become who we really are. In those single moments that I push myself against everything that is, I finally lose myself and become me.

Those moments are too far between and almost nonexistent.

So sitting here I once again come to the point where I stare into nothing. I do not know what may come my way of if there will be a tomorrow to fight on for. At this point I know that survivors sometimes have to let one thing drop to allow them to save everything else they hold on to. And each and every time that they reach that point a lie is told that they will be able to come back to pick it up again. That once things get better that they will be able return to what they let go. That it's only the moment. The lie is told that they will come back when they are able to. A promise which at a certain point loses it's life and hope and becomes that lie. A lie that we often time can not live with.

I'm saying this because it's what I have to come into terms with. It's what I have to understand before I can move on again. It's the price I have to pay again in order to endure tomorrow. As much as I would love to go into the reasons, I can not. I don't think I can honestly do so. I have to let go of something else once more in order to keep everything else. I have to sacrifice one more thing in hopes of keeping everything else that I come to realize that I can not let go. One day I may pick it up again or I may relearn to live without it and remain a survivor, a vagabond, someone who is never part of what is there nor would understand if they are ever welcomed. Sometimes our actions to survive come at a terrible cost that in truth we do not know until we are able to be among those who have not lost what we gave up.

It makes us feel that we can never belong among others if not for a moment of life.

I pray I will not have to lose what at this point I'm trying to convince myself that is not an important part of me. That it will not make me hollow or distant at times to will force me to leave those around me when I secretly wish to remain. I seem whole on the outside but I'm know that I am not able to remain near others for too long. That I have given enough of myself to survive, but not to live. That I will never close my eyes and simply be, but waiting for the next way to come. Always waiting.

It makes me distant and cold. It makes me flaky and odd. It makes some people look at me oddly and other even wonder what makes me "interesting". Eliot said it best.

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

My only hope at this point is that the price I paid allows me to do what many others can not. it gives me the ability to what must and needs to be done, especially for those who I love the most but I can not show.

I will be positive is not to set up a dramatic rescue that will come to me and allow me to be then to simply cheat what I face from the sweetness of it's victory. I will smile and I will have faith and above all I will continue to push against what I face until I can push past it to another task that will try me as the previous task could not. I will push on because all true Romantics push on and will never turn heels and allow what will beat us to savor its win. I will continue to be defiant and rebellious. I will curse with my last breath and laugh until I can not. I will not give in and will not go down without a fight. That I can do. I'm a survivor after all and it's what I am able to do.

Ha ha.....not one to make things easy for anyone.

So .....I guess I'm sorry. Perhaps all of this is my way of apologizing to so many of you who have tried and yet have been disappointed in me. Survivors make for terrible friends. There is a limit to what I can offer and what I can give. I can not help to feel cold and heartless in moments that demand me to be kind or giving, knowing that in truth I will not trust or allow those around me to feel that I place my confidence in them without having an exit plan. It's a whole lot easier for me to give what I can and to cut when I am no use to others. I would rather not be a burden to those who I love the most. I would rather cut them out of my life knowing that they will do better without me making their live harder than it should be than to be a burden. I've already been told that this is stupid by many, but it's my worry and fear. It's what's always son the back of my mind.

Or......I can believe in the machine. The crank will move and Jack will jump and everything will be ok. I can believe that when I need it the most, everything will be better and all will be fine. Things will be better this year and I'm worrying for nothing. I will laugh and laugh at all of it and we will look back and know that it will be all in the past. I have nothing to worry about.

Perhaps the Machine will work.

Perhaps.

Then again, I'm usually the one telling everyone, and perhaps you also, that things will get better.

Things will get better, right?

The Machine will work.

Oatmeal revisited.

Upon waking I knew that I had to eat. For reasons not given here, I have a love hate relationship with food. If alone, I've been known to eat a block of cheese instead of taking full advantage of the ingredients within the pantry and fridge. If someone else is in the house with me then I run towards the kitchen to make a meal, yet lately I've not been in the kitchen very much.

The kitchen represent everything that I love in truth. Food, nourishment, flavors and accents to marvel any pallet. Within the kitchen, I've made meals that express what I feel within. I've made chili con carne to inflame the soul, Alfredo with sweet scallops within a luscious bed of linguine. I've roasted pigeons, turkeys, and succulent beef to the wet any mouth who enters my radius of smell. If food my nourish the body, could it not feed the soul and inspire love?

To say that my emotions are connected to my culinary mood is to say the least. There have been many times in which I would rage with insult as to discover my omelet skillet scratched as failures of my attempts would only burn. I've thrown my share of tantrums and cutlery to discover other hands within my work. I've even prepare "poisonous" meals in which the unknowing fools angered me before or while at a hot stove only to taste why true feelings. I've gained many apologize after a spoonful.

And yet, I've discovered my passions had left me years ago as I stared into an empty kitchen and empty beds. there would be no reason to wake up sleepy faces with promises of French Omelets or toast. Pancakes would not take for of famous mice or other shapes that many would challenge me with milk mustaches. Laughter over meals only to be silenced with sounds of greed and gluttony are silent now.

Simply put I showed my love through my food.

My grandmother did the same as she would give food to families in need. So little to feed many and to make empty stomach filled with joy. So much effort and care would be behind her ingredients and motives. Even now I think of her and my heart aches. Perhaps I shall leave her memory in peace. It's still too fresh a memory.

Perhaps it was the rain throughout the night that caused me to enter the cold kitchen. I slept well and found myself hungry. I knew if I simply waited an hour more my hunger would disappear and I would not be bothered. Yet, the missing piece of my health is still food related as I fear of moment of not waking and continuing my sleep in a coma. No, I've made attempts to correct this and knew that it took a great effort to eat. Though this morning I felt hunger.

I stared into the pantry and decided on oatmeal. I would be kind to myself and heat water and pour over whole oats and be fine with my minimum effort. Staring over to three bad bananas I took two and left one behind. They remained green for most of the time, never ripening to their soft white flesh. They reminded me of plantains as they turned from green to tan without softening. No one would eat these. I might as well see to them.

Slicing diagonal after peeling the fibrous, stiff peal. Heat would make them better as I removed the nonstick pan. Within the pan they were soon joined by a few spoons of rich brown sugar and a pat of butter. The caramel melted slowly as I it lovingly enveloped the slices in a warm embrace. The cinnamon soon joined, as I cursed within for nutmeg. The smells warmed around me. Turning towards the fridge I reached for milk and a bit of cream. With a shrug an egg soon joined. While the bananas warmed and toasted in the caramel, a quick egg cream was made.

As the sugar slowly crusted over the pan the egg cream was added. The smells were awakened in the mixture as I opened the oatmeal. I mumbled a good morning to the Quaker and wondered where Baker and Candle stick maker went off to. As the cream went a golden color I added the oats slowly, quickly enveloping the oats into the mixture as I marveled how great of a cookie this should be. As soon as it reached the point where the starches melded, inspiration took hold and
shredded coconut was added. I shook my head towards the golden raisins knowing that everything now would compliment the oatmeal. I didn't need an upstarts. The oats were what I was after.

Heaping spoons was added into a bowl and a spoon added. I stared at the floor, remembering of oatmeal past. Thankfully the oatmeal placed on the table. I was good to wait a few minutes as the oat meal rested and cooled.

Bliss.

This was well deserved and worth the wait.

Lyrical Bounce

(If you are reading this then you must have nothing to do. Get on your music machine and hit the shuffle. Whatever song hits, you pick the most interesting lyric and so on. Once you get a repeat it's over.)

Like some cat from japan, he could lick 'em by smiling

I said, "Stand and deliver or the devil he may take ya"

I'm worse at what I do best

I am the heretic and I crave your excommunication

Karla Valdarama on the beach at Balmaha with a disposable cigarette lighter

So you think you can love me and leave me to die

Yeah, I dreamed that I saw Dali

I surfaced and all of my being was enlightened.

Spitting in a wishing well

A highway with no one on it

And its one more beer and I don't hear you anymore

Everything is clearer now

And I know that it descends down on me

This boy's too young to be singing the blues

If I don't meet you no more in this world then uh

Just when you needed me so

If you tear yourself in two again

But yes I'm still running

Behind my smile

Sorry but I cant take you.

Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend

Cause where we been is who we used to be

But I guess that there's just no pleasing you

I reached out for the one I tried to destroy

If that don't get it you can catch it on the b-side

City is restless, it's ready to pounce

Bloody your hands on a cactus tree

We eat and drink while tomorrow they die

Yeah, I'll miss the boredom and the freedom and the time spent alone.

Tryin to talk to me koi koy

While everyone's lost, the battle is won

You think not telling is the same as not lying, don't you?

threw our shoes into the ocean

Celebrated victim of your fame

Oh, and do I deserve to be

My head is somewhere in between

We just wanna scream it louder and louder louder

We're beaten and blown by the wind

you'll think I'm dead, but i sail away

I care, don't think cos I'm talking were friends,

And you don't know where you've been

Shame you won't be there to see me

But there's work to be done now, work to be done.

Well, you tell me things I know you're not supposed to

When I look out there, it makes me GLaD I'm not you.

You disappeared from me

Even if it was would would you still come crawlin'

(My first repeat so I stop)

Saving a world not worth saving.

I honestly do not know how to start this. To be honest, I just rather not deal with this ever again, but it's not up to me. It's never up to me.

I was asked a while back if I believe in ghosts. I shook my head no, but I shared with them that some things, made of strong emotions, often do survive where or when we are. There are places that simply haunt us. There are things that happen that are so painful, moments in time when we realize what we really are and how fragile we can be, that the walls just soak up that energy, that emotion.

What am I talking about? Give me a moment. This is hard when sober for me. Why am I sober?

I held a friend tight once as we sat on the bathroom floor. She did something harsh to herself in the pursuit of ultimate joy when she realized that life was fragile in those moments. I held onto her as purged and cried. She told me her fears and what haunts her. She was honest for once in her damned life, as she began to tell me everything she believed that she needed to tell me. She believed she would not see the end of the night as her own Secret Wars waged within. She swore me to promises and exposed everything.

I simply held her. I held her and promised that she will return. I swore to keep the nightmares at bay and nothing would come of her. It was a sleepless night. There was no shame. And in the end she woke up in her own bed with me at her side. She picked up her tattered dignity and looked at me with accusing eyes. Nothing was said. Breakfast was served, small conversation was made as I left my hands to become busy cleaning any evidence of what may trespassed and left the next morning.

We were never really friends.

There have been many. I've had these moments myself. I've been there many times in fact. The feeling of lost control and knowing that this may be your last moments. The feeling of abandonment and horror.

How could you not reach out?

Avey was more then a mentor. Even now I miss him dearly. So much that I know I always get his name wrong and I hate myself for this. I hate myself a lot really when it comes to him. I'll get into that in a bit. I have to be careful walking this road. I've gotten lost many times here and no matter how many times I deal with this there is no resolution. There is no ending, but just .....

I can say that his presence in this world made my life not only easier back then, but it actually made me feel better about myself. He was someone I looked up to and wished to be like. He helped me not only understand life around me, but he actually taught me that thought proceed action. That actions not only affect me, those around me, but it creates an environment for things to come. That I'm connected to those everyone and everyone is connected to me. He taught me to think and choose my words carefully before speaking by thinking at least 7 times before speaking, something not only very valuable to me, but a skill that had taught me to know how to avoid trouble. A priceless gift when you are 17, naive and know that the choices that you made were not the wisest.

Time came when he moved away. I lost tract. I ended a life in some respects, but I always figured that I would be able to redeem myself and see him again. Kind of show him that I got things under control and that I turned out better than most would believe. Yet some years ago, around this time of year I was told that he died. No, no just died, but that he took his life. I got the news that somehow, my hero, this person who I looked up greatly to and helped me get my life in the right direction had committed suicide. It still feels not right. He had his doctorate in Psychology. He pulled a lot of people out of the mud. Not just me, but many others. He was a great man.

But, suicide? I still don't understand how. They told me he had troubles in his marriage. That things went bad for him somewhere. That he left his children behind. My daughter was his youngest son's playmate. I mentored his older son and secretly wished I would have a son like him. Sure, my life fell apart, but I would get things situated, placed in order and one day come back to see him to show that I was not a mistake. That I would prove myself to him. Show him that I made something of my self and he helped me do so.

But he is dead. He killed himself.

Where was I?

When I say unto the wicked, Thou shalt surely die; and thou givest him not warning, nor speakest to warn the wicked from his wicked way, to save his life; the same wicked man shall die in his iniquity; but his blood will I require at thine hand. Ezekiel 3:18

Meaningless words. Another life. A life that in some ways I was force to leave. It honestly does not matter really, but the lessons learned are still with me. I mean, the world was worth saving back then, wasn't it? I was going to save the world. I was young and optimistic. I would reach out for those who needed me the most. I would pull them out of their nightmares and give them a way out. Sure, some would be willing to leave the mud and some needed to be pulled extra hard and sometimes kicking, but they would be pulled out of the mud. If they choose to return to it once out, it was up to them, but I at least pulled them out.

I pulled many out. I even pulled someone I called brother out only to have him shove me in. He helped end my life then. He was the reason I had to go, but I pulled him out of the mud. Avey told me once that even if you pull someone out they may want to go back. He mentioned that some will pull you in with them in an act of fear to get themselves out. Some will even curse me for pulling them out.

My own "brother"?
He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother
Am I my brother's keeper?

So I started a new life, but old habits die hard. I'm not one to walk way. I'm not one to abandon anyone. I'm not one to quit simply because life was hard or the work great. I would push on. If someone needed me I would be there. If you needed help I'm on it. Old habits die hard. I'm too stubborn to give up.

So many helped. So many, but the world does not stay safe. The world must be saved everyday. It never stays safe no matter what. Dog warriors may be able to keep their circumference in check, but the world was huge. I pulled so many out. I held so many. I stayed the nightmares away, but.....

He killed himself. He killed himself. He fucking killed himself. What the fuck can I do now? He was not supposed to kill himself. He was supposed to stay strong and pull others out. He was supposed to be a rock. He was supposed to never fall or die.

He killed himself.

What could it had been? What was it? What the fuck got you? What pulled you down? What was it? What could have made you betray or give up what you taught me? Why did you give up? What crushed you? What made things so bad that you decided to just end it? What happened? Where where you? Who was there? Why didn't they do something?

He killed himself.

And where the fuck was I?

Where was I? Isn't that the real question? Where was I? What was I so selfishly doing that I could let him kill himself? What was I doing? Is it more important that his life? He helped me, why couldn't I help him? What the fuck is wrong with me? How did I fuck up this bad? How is it that I let this happen? Is it my fault?

Isn't it my fault?

The world is never safe. The world can not be saved. How is the world worth it now? Would I trade everyone I helped to be there? Would I give their lives up and leave people in their hell to get to him? To help him like he helped me? To repay a debt? To make sure that he can get out? To pull him out of the mud? To do what he taught me to do which I was not able to do?

Yes. I would let them all suffer. I would leave them on the floors, conscious or not, to get to him. his life is worth more than any of them. Some simply ran back. Others still don't have their shit together still and never will. Avey died somewhere alone and I helped some asshole just because he took one to fucken many hits from a bong.

Seriously?

I can't help to laugh really. I can't help to laugh cause I don't want to cry. How cruel can the world be? How can the world crush him? How can the world crush him and leave me feeling that I let him die. That I abandoned him. You call it hindsight? That does not make things better. It does not make me less ......lost.

I cut a lot of people out of my life recently. It was my survival that was in stake. I saved the world, but the world still needed to be saved. The world still needs to be saved even though I feel I lost track of what is needed. I save the world, but the world does not save me. The world seeks to pull me under.

I hate the world.

But I save it, still?

Yes.

I still pull people out. It's almost as if I attract the lost souls. As if they look for me with begging eyes to say something that will end their pain. Something that will make things right. Or they just want to know that what they feel, I feel.

Fucken world. I hate you more than anything. I almost hate you more than myself sometimes. I hate the world, because I know no matter what, I will never stop trying to save it. One day, I may even have to pay old debts and I understand that. I'm comfortable knowing that that day may come, but I still can not help it. I have to try.

The world needs to be saved.
We can not always save those who we need to.
We can not save ourselves nor would we try.
The world will always need to be saved.

I wish there is a better place.

I miss you Avey. I'm sorry I was not there. I'm sorry I failed you. I know there was nothing I could have done, but I still feel that I failed you. That I could have least done something to help you. I wish I can blame myself and be done with it, but it just does not cover it. It honestly does not cover it.

It's just fucked up.

The world is just fucked up.
It has to be saved.

6 to 9 feet

I'm going to start this off easy for most of you simply because the logic further on will bend and twist along the way and there for I'll warn you now and place the answer to it all in your hands now so that when things get a bit surreal you can always look at what you are holding on to.

I trust no one.

I've learned early in life that I have the uncanny ability to lie horribly. I can not lie to someone to save any of our lives, yet just as some develop methods of survival when they lose something that would make life easier, I've learned the magnificent art of shuffling words and playing with the long lost art of the innuendo. So that when some bring me loaded questions with maliciously silent motives I've learn to see discover how to disarm would be metal assailants. The Old Man least gave me that much.

I am a student of Machiavelli, a disciple of SunTzu and a follower of Musashi. When Malcom said, "..by any means necessary...." I lived it. When Nietzsche proclaimed, "What does not kill me, makes me stronger", I agree that this is true, yet just as any balance equation I've discovered that there is a price for all exchanges, especially strength. Do survivors have a right to complained if they made it out "whole'"? Do they have any right to recourse or should they simply be thankful to have survived?

I still ask myself today.

Trust is important. It's what allows some to become close and bonds to form. It pulls strangers into alliances and it's the foundation of honor, love, and goodwill. It allows people to slumber peacefully in a hope that things are safe, secure, and will remain so in the morning. It give pretense that life will continue and root will take. It's the cement that holds our society as one and it drives many to create change. Trust is something that many overlook, undervalue, and give too easily.

Those who understand how trust work and it's deeply ingrained significance have often learn how to take advantage of it. Promises are offered for the moon, a new tomorrow, freedom, redemption, a chicken in every pot, and their everliving service. Many have taken the form of those who we would place our trust in. They masquerade as those of authority in order to gain trust and in hope for blind devotion. They are only able to commit some of the greatest atrocities in humanity once trust is gained.

To explain to you why I don't trust leads me to do that which I can not do. It's probably why this is so difficult to write and more tempting to erase. It forces me to expose what I substitute for trust and why so many of you have realized that I do carry a hard look time to time. I'm having difficulty exposing myself because I'm getting nothing in return. There is no quid pro quo here. There is only me in the center exposing what I would never dare to in person. Here you have the advantage while placing myself in the disadvantage. I'm stalling.

You're still holding on to that, huh?

I used to trust. In fact, I used to trust blindly as many of you do. I trusted many on principle rather than merit. Even no I see myself carefree and smiling in my mind's eye, not knowing the nature of man and the motives of many. I trusted many with things simply for the assumption that humanity is something of worth. That everyone, as I once believed are simply doing what is best for all. The greatest pessimists were born from mild tempered optimists.

And yet, in my years here I've learned that I was an easy target for many. For various reasons and logic that only they could admire. To go over the trespasses of those who paths I crossed would make this too long and not worth mentioning. Many have gotten away with what they wanted while others are still near and wait for those moments to return. Some I shared beds with and others I've pulled out of the mire of life only to have them pull me in their place.

I've saved the world many times only to realize that it always need to be saved. That and each and every time you return a little more jaded, a little more colder and a whole lot more aware. Perhaps it's having someone wake you with a punch to your face. Perhaps it's having someone sell you out to get what they want. Maybe it's just using you until they are able to move on to someone else.

And yet, perhaps it's because I can not shrug things off. I can't walk away thankful or count my blessings in the end. Perhaps I'm not willing to use others as well as they use me. I can not take from someone without making sure they are willing to share or willing to give. Perhaps I was the only one who listened in church. Maybe I paid too much attention philosophers and took the words of poets to heart. Perhaps I watched to many after school specials. Maybe John Lennon lied all along or just died like so many others with their well intentions under a gunshot.

So no, I don't trust anyone. Not just blindly, but at all. Those who approach me with smiles are under suspicion. Words are weighed and analyzed for hidden meaning. Compliments are not acknowledged and my worth as a human being is only valued by what I'm able to offer others. Distance is kept between us to allow me to leave at any time and not turn back. In a blink of an eye I'm able to cut ties and move on. If needed to, an entire life is ended and a new one made. I'm am recreated and new people are given 3 years. Anything more would only make things harder.

Three years is the cut off. People never last longer than 3 years. It's odd how I've came up with the time through observation. People drift off and life interrupts flow. I welcome it and see it as a pillar of life. In three years I'm able to give my all to someone and to show them the best of what I am and what I offer. After those three years it becomes difficult. Distance is shortened and lines are often hazed. I'm not able to remain unbiased and withdrawn. I'm not able to offer free information as I realize they as an individual have become closer than I would desire. Leaving is harder as I wonder harder questions which I can not find answer to. Questions which force me to not look into mirrors and wake me up from sleep.

Those questions are the hardest.

Are you still holding on to that?
Good.

I've made those sacrifices. I've given up more than I realized I have. When you pull someone out of their hell it rubs off on you. When you try to free someone of their nightmares you see them too. When you hold onto people right at their breaking point you also realize that you hold on what is and what should be is not the strongest either. It's like knowing how you will die. I'm knowing how the end will be instead of being blind to that. It's knowing it's ahead of you and you can not do anything. It's walking around with the taint of past horror and can not allow you to sit among those you care for the most in fear of it taking them also. It's the knowing that you may make their lives harder than it should ever be that you come to realize that you are not going to do that no matter what.

So you leave.

You erase numbers and cut ties. You get away from them and hope they do not get around you. You remain silent when they mention getting together or spending time to catch up. You pull from others and change subjects to hint to them that your lives can no cross paths and that they(you) will leave on day. That it's easier for them(you) for them to move on than to bring you along. You will only get in the way.

They have tomorrow.

You have today.

.....

Does it take a toll? I don't know. Perhaps it's why I fall out of beds. Perhaps it's why I can not tolerate a kind touch not from my children. Why there is only a cold feeling if someone embraces you, knowing that you are able to cut them out easily. Why it's easier to acknowledge your worth as a thing or tool rather than as a human being.

How much humanity is lost with surviving? Is getting stronger worth the lost?

I still don't know.

So when I say I trust someone, I do not tell them that I have a firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing or committed into the care of another. I really telling them that if (and when) they decide to sell me out and betray my confidence it....I will be ready for it.

In the end, I only fool myself. I believe that I have a mental bullet for everyone I know and in a moment I'm able to cut my ties without a price. I tell myself when it happens that I was ready. I may even say that it was the right thing to do and everything worked out for the best. I nurse my wounds and stagger on. I curse myself for remaining in that position and it was my own fault of allowing it to happen. Months will pass, I will tear the moments apart for some understanding. What I can take away with me as experience I welcome. It's the meaningless moments where nothing makes sense that haunt me. Time explains all, but offers no absolution.

.....

How much do I trust people? As far as I can....