i really do try hard

but i always say the wrong things
feel the wrong things
think the wrong things

i never get it right, not anymore
and maybe i never got it right in the first place
and just never noticed

too stupid to catch on
first to go
and the last the to know

just flailing and failing
send me to a mountaintop
seal the cave
let me be
leave me be

let me be in some place where i make no mistakes
some warm place with no memories
so i can forget all the things that make me what i am

and i can just be a notion, a stray thought
a thoughtless look, a blind navigator

fuck this shit

1. Parent discovered they have to go in for cancer biopsy after new year
2. $12 in bank
3. Bills due now
4. Checks in mail but none arriving
5. Family members struggling, not a one of those fuckers will get psychiatric help (except that guy, he's cool)
6. I can't get psych counseling for at least 3 months---health care is all about money, and when you have none, you get none. 
7. Bank continues to keep $83 dollars out of my account, due to a 3 month clerical error. NO ONE is available to help. Complete incompetence.
8. Somebody refused my request for 30 seconds of recording, so i lost out on paying gig
9. commandment from on high to "have very merry fucking christmas ps don't expect any help from me."
10. people contact me in weird ways to tell me sad news, but still refuse to talk to me
11. people try to talk to me about things i've asked to leave alone

fuck this shit, i'm going shooting

futility

my love ones keep suffering and falling apart

and there's nothing i can do about it

ain't that some shit

they just keep dying

even when its what they want
if if they did it to themselves
there's just all this death
hanging and clumping like seawead that drown you
caught in your hair and lashes like a cobweb

godspeed brenda
may you know a peace now that you could never find in your life

everyone knows i'm in over my head

if there was a better way, i sure hope it would find me

i'm full of nervous energy but exhausted all the time

if you move fast, they can't getcha

one day i'll move so fast that i'll slip this cage

one day

Our Long National Nightmare. . . Continues

Well, America, I hope you're pleased with yourself. You got what you wanted. God help us all.

I picked the wrong year to give up drinking.

gogogogogo

got to get a few hundred dollars to pay bills by Friday (hahahahahahahahaha)

trying to book extra and audience work around scheduled and requested nanny days

trying to get majority of "action" pix and vids recorded this week and sent to agent. as this requires assistance, i have some luck. but i don't have a bestie who can just eff off and help me out.

have credit card with some room left--really need to buy things like food. undergarments. many of my clothes do not be looking right on my person because i've lost some weight. i refuse to spend more Money I Don't Have on clothing until I have lost some more weight. Good thing I stole ex left belt behind. Droopy Drawers For Life!!!

speaking of drawers, my ass needs a much more rigorous exercise plan. 10k steps a day is cool and still a challenge, but its also a lot of time. i love my walks, but i require faster results and Let's Face It: my old ass really needs a tune up.

i think im supposed to sign up for an improv class. thank god for the credit system and forgive me for participating in the crippling financial disaster that is our country. please feel free to share all my blame with healthcare costs. thankyoudrivethru

i think my uterus is trying to kill me, or drive me insane. which i clearly do not have time for.

i'm tired. i don't feel good a lot. i need to take better care of myself. i need some fun.

unfortunately, i have to rely on myself for help with this stuff. and i am not much help these days.

its so weird to have so many superficial things to focus on to work towards some of my dreams. like, i really need to worry about how old i look? how white my teeth are (don't even talk about straight).

my eyebrow hair? really?

yes. really. so off for some painful personal grooming.

It's 90 F in Amarillo? In October?

People, seriously.

https://weather.com/news/weather/video/summer-in-october-hundreds-of-records-could-fall?pl=pl-editor-picks

There is no "going" to Hell. We're making Hell right here on Earth.

It's 86 F in Pensacola.

That's just mean.

man in a suitcase returns home, apocalypse expected

sometimes i feel like i need to barf up or slough off the bad energy i've been around.

that sounds totally CA woo-woo, but let me give you an example: spending time with an extremely dysfuntctional family who are fighting while a young woman is getting brain surgery. for tumors.


so, yeah, i wish i could rinse away the residue of that


Positive Aspect: Cousin made in thru surgery, initial stuff looks good. Hopefully she is on road to recovery.

And with that, off to watch season premiere of Walking Dead.

I'm pretty sure that if they deface my boo, I will be done with the show for life. I got enough stress without worrying about Rickle Pickle all the time. He's my totem animal. I need him to be okay.

PS---SFO to LAX, by ground, in 5.5 hours. Personal best of my N-S trips lately. And I didn't even leave until 12:22 pm. Basically I folded space time.

serenity now

Another hospital, another person in danger and in need of help. She asked me to come and there are people in need of support. It's all I have to offer.

Bonus: family that puts the Fucked in dysfunctional. For reals

Modified shiva has ended, and since I couldn't do it properly, I've decided to end with a mitzvah dedicated to Chris. I will try to emulate him and honor his belief that family is important. I will try to be helpful and supportive. I will try to let kindness and logic guide my actions, and ignore petty feelings and disturbances.

keeping track

--father getting initial check to see if he can get secondary check to determine if suspicious mass in lung is cancer FINALLY happening tomorrow

--cousin getting brain tumor removed, 22 yrs old. Jfc. Trip to SF.

--shiva continues with trip to SF as final mitzvah honoring uncle

--aunt seems to have no will to live, hanging on just barely, all by choice?

--meeting with agent tomorrow. How can i present my best, most special, dazzling, effervescent self when i look like the walking dead? my personality isn't exactly sparkling right now. but hey, that's why it's called acting. ha ha.

--bills bills bills

--finally caught up on S6 Walking Dead. Motherfucking Denny Duquette. Volatile. I love you, Rickle Pickle, you crazy eyed mofo.

--i'm getting too old for this shit.

i feel like i've aged three years in one morning

One of those days.

My life is underwhelming while overwhelming me in all the wrong ways.

there's gotta be a break in this action

A Silver Tear Appears, I'm Crying Ain't I?

Yesterday my Uncle Chris died.

It should have been no surprise that my bizzaro subconscious jukebox had me singing Carolina In My Mind today.

The first concert I ever went to was James Taylor. I was 12 or 13 and he took us kids--Uncle Chris thought it was important that we see live music.

I know he is more at peace now then perhaps he ever was in life.

I sang, with my stuffy nose and froggy voice, Fire and Rain and Carolina and dedicated them to him, in my heart.

Later in the night, I sang Carolina as a lullaby to a baby.

And in this way I will sit my solitary, queer shiva. No one will probably even notice. I'm not even sure how to do it.

Another bright light has been snuffed out and the sky is forever darker for it, the world forever less.

Ain't it just like a friend of mine, to hit me from behind?

what love can cost you

someone i love is dying. he has asked to be left alone.
no jumping in cars, catching flights, rushing to the scene
none of those things
if respecting his wishes is the right thing to do,
why does it feel so bad and wrong?

i wish i loved him less
and could selfishly be with him in an instant

love
for all its wonders, it can still exact a terrible toll

don't get any big ideas (blues)*

For somebody with
supposed and reasonable though really ougthen have been a bit bettered by now
fear of abandonment issues,

you sure do jump ship quick, buddy

How could you say you love me, claim to have ever felt a tender feeling towards me, if you would hurt me so

i know some of it you probably don't understand
but damnit you should ask
isn't this about being equals
about sharing equals
about caring equals
about how you and i and are gonna take care of each other?

couldn't i trust you to always be my friend? i've only spent a year pouring my heart out to you about how lost and vulnerable i am.

why would you say that to me if you didn't mean it? that wasn't fair

couldn't i trust you to always be my friend?

it's all good, you win
you tore ass so fast
i never got the chance to abandon you

i hope it makes you feel safe
cuz it makes me feel stiffed
like i had a line on something good for once
and Fate clocked me from behind
and i woke up having missed the ride

of a lifetime?

even then, couldn't i trust to you to always be my friend?

if we haven't had something here
something that can be explained by basic psychology
cold and concise
explained by basic biology
pheromones from white lab mice
something that could certainly be reduced to a crude, dispassionate, disinterested description

except i prefer the one they like to use in poems and songs so much
cuz i'm a sap

if i really even understand what the word love means

i looked into your eyes once and saw something like your soul

or else i'm just nuts
which is turning less unlikely by the crisis

my god if you changed your mind i understand why!

couldn't i trust you to to always be my friend?

*alternatley, I May Well Live To Regret This

does it ever end, should it?

another hospital

another clusterfuck of family dysfunctional dynamics
ith
another set of things i never needed to know

why is the right thing so hard, exhausting? is anything really ever the right choice?

so many people in need, so desperately, angry and hurt and shiiiit

i'm just so exhausted

every one is so exhausted
were can we recover
where can we find respite

and of course, who will care for me,

poorly, resentfully, erratically, unreliably, and with ever decreasing presence

clavicles and consumption

Death is the unkindest guest
never on time
never to schedule

The only thing worse than his appearance
is his disappearance

Death brings the worst gifts
and takes the things you value
there is no trade
only a terrible and irrevocable withdrawal from your account

i can selfishly say that
i am tired of
(take me away from)
all this death, Major and minor

Not Only Can They Skim Your Card, They Can Discover Your PIN?

It is weird to see an ATM withdrawal that you don't remember making. Especially when it essentially withdrew all the cash you had.

This was a chip-card and everything, but I guess that didn't help?

It wasn't much money (ha ha) but I have bills etc to pay and now I'm concerned about using even the temp card/account from my bank to deposit and withdraw from.

Unexpected expenses when you least can handle them. As I told a friend last night, I've got enough bad luck in the world. I should really focus on making less trouble/bad decisions for myself. At least I don't have to be an asshole to me.

One step up and two steps back. Aside from natural and statistical bad luck, I make lots of dumb moves that end up costing me---one way or another.

I sometimes feel like I've failed at adulting and need some kind of supervisor to follow me around and save me from myself.

blahblahwhine

Another Day, Another Airport

Waiting to fly back West. Waiting for the emotions to spiral out of control. Waiting for the pain.

It was a good visit and I'm very glad I came. It's hard to understand a world that won't have my uncle in it. Doesn't seem like the kind of place I want to be.

How do you tell someone you've loved your whole life exactly how you feel? You can't--it's too much and they probably don't want to hear it because there's a great deal of grief tied into it all. You can't because none of us are ever brave enough to say it. You can't because words seem to lose their meaning and relevancy.

Though I can't fix the mortality problem, I wish I had been smarter and done something with life that would allow me to help the people I love.

A good trip for a rotten reason. So tired of seeing my loved ones in pain. Tired of these thoughts in my head.

It was a good visit. There is that.

It Keeps You Running

Well, managed to procure a last minute flight. Here's my week or so:

• wash, pack, ugh
• audition Mon at noon. My roomies are gone, now I have no one to run lines with. Crap.
• 1st class Mon night. I haven't even attended this class and they are pissing me off already. How hard is it to answer an email or a phone message? Apparently very hard, though the fucks send out emails and assignments just fine. Have to leave as soon as class ends to make. . . 
• Red eye flight back east
• Arrive in AM and drive parents 12+ hours to see uncle who is dying
• Leave from uncle's by the weekend 
• Back in time for class on Monday
• Try and pick up more part time babysitting duties by that Tuesday, because I have no money
• Which reminds me that I need to cancel a few things, including Netflix and my charitable sponsorships. That last one is really bothering me, but wtf can I do? I haven't had a steady income in over five years. 

It doesn't seem like much, but just getting things organized enough to buy the tickets took an enormous amount of energy and coordination. Im just...whatever.

wittle pity pawty

don't mind me
i'll just sit over here

onyourcouch
inyourbackseat
overthephone

and you won't even have to notice
don't even have to acknowledge
the quick silver slipping down my cheeks

this is the end?

beautiful friend, the end

never into your eyes to look, again

this is the stutterting start-stopping heart stomping hullabaloo



it must be nice to have a moment to relax, let your guard down
must be nice, feeling like you've reached the End of the Hard Times
so nice, even if it's just a respite, it has seasons you can plan round

and so in this i imagine it must be very hard to apprehend
to puzzle out
to infer
to even give credit to

(the fact that some people don't get the things you have, will never have the things you get)

a different kind of life

so may this be the end
of miserable bellyaching
of mooning and moaning and pissing
of naive belief in possible relief
of this hopeless love and baseless hope and may all those ends
turn to ash on your tongue

trust is so powerful and so brittle
strong but easily wounded
would i had taken up the metallurgy of human souls
that i might now yet mend it, strengthen it

but if i did, could i trust it?

shite attitude

grumpus

hard to believe you can't hear my heart breaking
tinkling final shards crumbling to grit
underfoot

but that supposes an intimacy between us
that seems to have been alive only
in dreams

gotta shake this all off, walk this off and keep going
one foot at a time
something's bound to go my way someday
someday

it just won't be anything you had your heart set on lately

Too Many Emotions

Sometime in the next few weeks, maybe this week, the plans will be finalized for the visit to my uncle. He's stingy with actual info, but to the best of our abilities, we reckon the end is drawing near.

I'm sitting hear trying to think of a non corny way of saying it, but there's just so many ways to talk about the fact that someone is dying.

I will spend an egregious amount of money (on a credit card.....hahaha) on a last minute plane fare.

I will fly out to see my uncle and cousins for two days. I will fly back in on a Monday and go to my first ever acting class that I signed up for. I just read some reviews today that say the teacher is a major confrontational jackass. I hope not. Especially not if the first day of class is the day I fly back. I don't think I'll be in the right frame of mind. To not punch people who annoy me.

I will fly back here and not get to see the rest of my family in that state, not get to consult with my parents and siblings, not get to be there for my moo, etc.

It's like flying in for all the stress and then zipping back home for more stress, no bennies.

I will be alone in my grief, again. I don't know why that bothers me more this time---normally I prefer to grieve alone.

But there's just been so much bad news for so long. I'm sad and tired. I'm turning into a bitter person, to my horror.

I'm probably just thinking about this all wrong. It's probably not as bad as it seems. I mean, its obviously bad.

But how do you stop being in crisis mode when life is just a series of crises? I think you have to decide to not be in crisis, maybe? Blah blah perception shapes your reality feelingsorryformyselfcakes.

Birth, Death, and Children

Today is my mother's birthday, which makes it a great day in history.

Today I started a part time job caretaking and chauffeuring for a family, their kids. The irony of this is beyond comment. I'm terribly conflicted. But also broke. Money is stupid.

Today Gene Wilder passed away. Beyond the awfulness of losing such a beautiful person, as any regular readers of Blahg will know, Wilder means a lot to people round these parts.

A few weeks or months ago, someone I cared about told me they were mad at me and didn't want to talk to me, via text. I haven't heard from them since, nor do I expect to at this point.

The last text they sent ended with "Good day sir!"

It was actually pretty funny.

But I'm a little overloaded on morbid and ironic humor at the moment. I'm still so adrift. I don't even have access to my music. It's locked away on a hard drive.

That seems like a silly thing. But when you have very little of your own, when you live in and around other people's landscapes and lives, those small things may be all you've got. Or don't have, as the case may be.

At any rate, pretty sure we've mentioned Wilder's autobiography before: Kiss Me Like A Stranger. It was an amazingly honest and forthright book. I think a person could read it and like Wilder less. But it only made me love Gene even more. Which probably explains something about me. Whatever.

The point is:

i don't know what to believe in

you don't know who i am

sometimes i feel invisible

i sometimes feel like the biggest lumbering oaf in the room

so clumsy i could knock your nightstand over
from across a continent

too much sadness for one cup

overflows to bitterness
(the rust of the human soul)

I've Been Loving You Too Long To Stop Now

You are tired and you want to be free

I'm tired of thinking. I might think too much. Rather, I probably think in incorrect ways and that's why I get so bogged down.

The two rent-a-cops patrolling the neighborhood just, uh, holla'd at me. I think. Are they allowed to do that? Maybe I shouldn't be sitting outside in my jimjams.

My love is growing stronger as our affair grows old


I don't why you came along at such a perfect time

Anyways, I'm tired of thinking. I'm tired of having to sort through all this bullshit. Like, my bullshit, specifically.

I'm tired of having to think about the ironies, multiple, involved in having just been offered a job caring for kids, helping manage a household, and assisting someone else in getting their life in order.

For very little money, compared to the debts I face. Debts no honest man can pay.

Your heart is as black as night


Give me real, don't give me fake

Not interested in listing that I am well past the point of
--feeling like caretaking for anyone,
--much less the really strong feelings I have about child care and the rigor it requires,
--added to the fact that there's a goddamn good reason i don't have kids and fuck you very much,
--and yeah, I do remember you, you're that couple that blew me off a few years back when I submitted for an assistant position. never even got an acknowledgement email despite friends introductory email. bad business, that, even between casual friends. so, i wasn't good enough for you then but now you are covered in baby shit and some dumbfuck like me could at least manage to chauffeur the kids around and do errands like buying our food for you?,
--motherfucker, i can't even get to the store to buy food for MYSELF! This is BEWLSHEET!
--please note that management is fully aware of how nuts this sounds--imagine what it's like in my head

Give us a kiss

--aside from the fact that i have no desire to have that kind of familial intimacy with anyone but my family right now,
--not even addressing my profound commitment avoidance,
--not to mention that i'm really getting too old for this shit

Yeah. I don't wanna think about. anything. So I'm just gonna hand this off to somebody else.

Give me love over this


Everything was in place, everything seemed alright

I'm tired of keeping count of all the ways life is laughing at me. Maybe I should laugh with it. It is quite farcical at some points.

Then again, there is always music. At least. That can't let you down, not if you let it inside.

But you were missing

My Kryponite?

  Desperate for employment. Ah-ha, what's this? Why, a notice from one of my casting notice subscriptions.

Aw, snap! I can apply!

Money is nice.

No bikinis? This gets better and better.

Fair Warning: Rough Seas Ahead

Blatherblahg may be getting a little. . . intense for awhile.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, this is my primary therapeutic/expressive outlet.

And things are, well, intense in my life right now. Or rather, they feel intense.

I've already advised some folks to unsubscribe or whatever it is all 3.5 of you read this thing do. I'll be talking about some unpleasant and probably nonsensical things as I try to work through whatever is going on in my fronthaid right now. I don't blame anybody for not wanting to watch.

I mean, that's kinda what drives me here in the first place: nobody wants to hear this shit.

And it is undoubtedly very foolish of me to do this in any public way. But for some reason, this format pleases me. I'm not a young girl anymore; my days of filling up journals with the scribblings of depression are over. Have been over, for a long time.

Instead, I'll emotion-vomit all over the Interwebz. I mean, it's got plenty of room. And everybody else is doing it.

And I can't afford therapy and I like all my friends too much to burden them with this shit. Well, at least not directly burden them. I'm obviously not nice enough to keep it all to myself. I am a flawed being.

I'm not saying any of this makes sense. But right now I have to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. I do this, literally, every day now. Walk it off. It's surprisingly effective, at least short term.

I'm tired as shit, but that dog don't hunt.

Because if i stop treading water now, I'll drown.

PSA: Your Water Isn't Safe

Madre de dios. Sorry about the downer nature of Blahg, lately. But this seems important and I don't do the facespace/mybooks, so pls pass along.

https://www.researchgate.net/blog/post/6-million-americans-have-unsafe-levels-of-toxic-chemicals-in-their-drinking-water

RG: Can you provide insights into why these toxic levels of PFASs are more likely to be found in certain states?

Hu: Drinking water from 13 states accounted for 75 percent of the detections, including, in order of frequency of detection: California, New Jersey, North Carolina, Alabama, Florida, Pennsylvania, Ohio, New York, Georgia, Minnesota, Arizona, Massachusetts, and Illinois.

I'll update if I find any info on detecting/securing a clean supply. The chemicals in question are extremely difficult to remove, even at water treatment plants.

avuncular whoas

it's times like this i wish i learned to play music, because no written word will do

you are running fast my dear friend
my outrageous teacher
and practical guide
with a spark of madness

you've always run faster and farther than you ought
but even now you slip away into the horizon
the mast and sail flattening into an ever diminishing black dot

and this time you sail where i cannot follow

i grieve the joy you take with you
grieve the sorrow left behind

(i will make bad jokes to the air
pretending you are there
that it is your joke
in your voice
and not my pale imitation)

Mark this man and know his kind,
they are not seen overmuch anymore.
Know him as Artist, for that is his soul

but what the fuck do i know anyway?

For Those Of You Keeping Score At Home

Because I know you just hang on the teetering scales of karmic retribution that passes for my life.

But just in case I haven't expressed this adequately, since I've been told repeatedly how bad I am at coummincating, here goes:

It's been a helluva few years. The last 18 months seems to have made it a personal mission to age me decades. And I still really haven't gotten a break.

Now, I know lots of people don't get breaks, that's life, right? You have to keep trudging forward. But by the 8lb 9 oz babby jebus, it can be vexatious.

Last May I made the difficult decision to quit the only steady employment I'd had. It was literally making me sick, physically. Anyways, after two weeks of unemployed bliss, wherein I decided to overhaul my room, I got a call about a loved one.

So June found me headed east. They reckoned he had cancer and was dropping dead soon. The truth turned out to be far more complicated and every bit as scary. I became one of a two-man primary care-taking team. We had help from Hospice (an amazing organization) and it still took everything we had.

While everyone did admirably, the emotional tolls exacted on the participants were difficult to deal with, for each person and for each other. I think maybe everybody might need a little therapy. Seriously. It was some stressful shite. Twere not dull times, is what I'm saying.

And there were additional lovelies along the way--another loved one has inoperable cancer. He is tucked away somewhere dying and I can't help him and I really don't want to talk about it much more than that.

Life continues. Money is ever so scarce. The future is uncertain. Everyone struggles. Donald Drumpf. It's bleak, is what I'm saying.

In mid winter we decided we had plateaued, and I headed back West. After three weeks our Charge took a serious dip and I got a call from a Hospice nurse telling me that he was dying in a room in th ER as we spake.

SO, flew back to family, lived in ICU with my Number 1 Patient for a few weeks of a coma, and then we slowly got him out of there, into PT, and off the drugs and through the condition that was making him nutsy fagin.

Fair to say, was an emotionally challenging Spring. Perhaps this is where I began to feel frayed.

Everything has leveled out to an acceptable state, and I returned West once again in June, almost an exact year after I'd first left.

I have little money. I have no income. I have no real networking. I'm working on a side/dream project and trying to make an honest effort at it because HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME and it's easy to play Prufrock but maybe I could make on stage as even a Guildenstern, if not Hamlet himself.

And it's fine if you don't understand any of that. Because here's what it means: I GOT STRESS. liekwhoa.

I visited some friends, but I haven't had a break. Bad news, real life, responsibility, have dogged me every step of the way. I can't relax. It's me--I think I need 30 days of intensive Netflix/Deserted Island therapy.

Whatever the case, including that I'm in some kind of PTSD meltdown or just a mid life crisis, I haven't gotten a break. The beat goes on. I'd like a nappy break. Can I tag out?

I'm exhausted. And I'm my primary resource. This corporate structure sucks.

I know you peeps out there are feeling it, too. John Irving called it weltzenhammer and said it was German for "world hurt."

Kinda like Sorrow.

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid, But They Still Turn Me Inside Out.

Some new and potentially important things are going well right now. It's hard to enjoy partially because I'm just exhausted beyond all belief and I'm not right. In the head.

People seem to think I'm kidding, but it's been a rough 14 months and quite honestly the few years before that weren't none too gentle neither.

I don't even think I'm running on fumes anymore. I think I'm running on delusion, possibly. I don't know, I can't make complex distinctions like that right now.

However, and possibly related, it is fair to say that it is also hard to enjoy because I'm missing someone right now. I just don't seem to be very good at these things.

I would try to tell them, but that's what got me in this mess in the first place. I think. I don't know. I may be having a PTSD flashback. I really need to get on a better eating schedule. One which involves things like eating.

So, some cool things are happening and what's even cooler is the effect on my roommates and family. They seem very happy to have some good news, however silly it may be.

It's like there's a party going on inside but I'm stuck outside the window, staring in. And the bitch of it is, it's my party.

bewlsheet

i resolve to be more celebratorial about my acomplifications

DAYS INCIDENT FREE: 0
BITCHES CHOKED TODAY: 1
WEEKLY COUNT (Sat-Fri): 3
SUMMARY: HAWKEYE HAD TO CHOKEABITCH THREE (3) TIMES THIS WEEK. OF NOTE, FOR ONCE, MANAGEMENT WAS NOT DISPLEASED.

out of my hands

it would have been nice
to have, i think

to have something warm to share
to have someone who saw you, and wanted to see more

but i was foolish and weak
and believed things that were too good to be true
from a source i know is prone to be mercurial

what was i thinking?
well, i was thinking this was a bad idea that would hurt me
but i was real busy hoping
and all that stupid, feckless hope drowned out the truth

i thought i'd grown past being disappointed by surefire failures
was beyond being hurt by impossible promises
had become inured to ridiculous fantasy

but all the pieces of my life fell in such a jumble
i was so lost
(i am so lost)
and for a moment i wanted to feel good
to feel love
to believe in good luck, good fortune, happy accidents, true hearts, true friendship, honesty

and the tiny spark of feeling loved in return

(the problem with that word is that so few people can agree on a definition)

i'm too old and broken for this shit
and perhaps i'm just not cut out for it anyway

turn off the sign
pull down the gates
close up the shop, maybe we can find a home to wander into

Here's How Pain Works Sometimes

I wake in the night and don't know why. I register something like discomfort, not quite pain. More like being uncomfortably aware of organs you are pretty sure are not supposed to have any feeling at all.

It's like the distant echo of pain--your body always knows before you do. And so begins the unfortunate cycle.

You review your data: this is off schedule, is this gonna be like last month and be the pms that was as bad as the period?, you have detected signs that you were missing before: Yup, seems likely. You about to be in a world of pelvic hurt, probably accompanied by GI shenanigans because, well, because that's how it always goes.

See, the pain is bad. Real bad. When it spikes, sometimes all i can do is just lay there. I try heating pads, I try exercise/sweating it out, I try NSAIDs  in unhealthy amounts, acupuncture, TCM herb treatments (nasty, btw, so very nasty), Rx pain meds (which can at least turn the volume down to a manageable level but good luck getting an Rx these days), clean eating, taking unhealthy amounts of Omega-3 oils, and probably ten other things I can't even think of right now.  Hell, if I had found something to abstain from that would end this chronic misery, I'd like to think I'd be smart enough to take that deal.

But that's the prob--all those small steps can help some, and aggregated you get a multiplier effect. But everything has consequences and costs. And there's still no real pain relief--not when it's really bad. Not even when it's just a constant throb, a dull ache that never goes away. 

(Note: The closest I've found are, frankly, narcotics. They turn it down to dull roar and I can go to work. But you best believe I still have to take NSAIDs and do a lot of other crap to keep the machinery going.)

It's exhausting. If you're lucky, you can take something to sleep or either pass out from exhaustion after several hours/days. But, at that point, your non functional. And still in pain. Just unconscious. Less than ideal, as the man said.

Same deal with heating pads/napalm heat creams. You're tied to an outlet, or your skin is on fire. And thank god that heat can bypass a pain signal. But at a certain point, the heat becomes pain. Also, it's awkward af walking around town in a flop sweat. And you still can't eat, feel like crap and blah blah blah. So, you kinda end up. . . . laying around. Notice a trend?

Anyhoo, so at 2:30 this morning I say, "Eff this skullduggery. I see the dark clouds on the horizon. Quick, let me quaff my restorative tonic!" Which means I took my special blend of benadryl, anaesthesia, ahuyasca, and ex-lax* and went back to bed. 

To awake sometime around 7 with confirmation: the pain has arrived. Batten down the hatches, here we go.

Whatever you've got, take it. Vitamins, NSAIDs, etc. Make sure to drink some dairy but don't eat. Your stomach is just waiting to do you wrong, and it's really gonna pissed after a few days of those NSAIDs. Never take on empty stomach, but never fill stomach.

Take a hot shower. Grab your heating pad. If it's 80 degrees in your house, then get a fan. And prepare to stay in front of it. All day. Think about cold showers too.

And you end up later in the day, now, with the afternoon heat having settled around the houses. Finally broke down at ate something b/c, let's face it, it was neccessary. It was also a bad idea. 

The pain has lapped at you in waves, ceaselessly, all day. It hasn't even kicked into high gear yet. It's just slowly wearing you down. At this point, you are either in a coma, delirious from your meds, or delirious from the pain. None of it is fun. I wonder why I even gained consciousness today--b/c all i can do is wait for tomorrow, hope the period starts soon so it can end soon, and try more coping methods tomorrow.

I'm tired of writing about pain. I'm tired of thinking about pain. But mostly, I'm tired of being in pain.

*Pro-tip: beginners might want to watch it on the ex-lax. don't want to make any foolish mistakes.

arrhythmic distortions

somewhere in this moody mist lurks a stifled heart

Perhaps two passions can, rather than enflame the other, instead temper each other. Give something that burns back just as fiercely, but that also has other outlets. To no longer be afraid of being too bold, showing too much, or the inevitable hurt that occurs when a different passion has you in its grasp?

Two flames that gutter for a moment, then agree to share the oxygen

i want to loose a thousand butterflies from my fingertips to fill the world with news of you

Lovely you

i want to fold a thousand paper cranes into ten thousand lanterns and light the world with love of you

Winsome you

     (A flotilla of faery fire to bring the good news:

          magic still exist! See its bright eyes.)

i will do none of those things, of course.

But i will love you with every scarred and battered fibre of this blasted heart

i’ve got your likeness there, next to that old rusty furnace, and there it will remain

(funny thing about that furnace

i thought my heart had turned to diamond, brittle jagged hard

buckled under and crushed and compacted beneath the massive geologic forces of heartbreak

but it turns out it’s still a lump of coal

embering away in the depths

keeping the whole creaking machine going)

So we’ll circle around that tasty treat, each eyeing the other mistrustfully

Fully missing that there is enough for both of us

Two flames in plato’s cave

Will they ever see aught but the shadows?

Essays On Neuroticism

July 7, 2016

*******

My appetites are either never satisfied or I am craving isolation. So little habitable territory inbetween.

AKA Why I Turn Into A Freaknik When You Start To Matter To Me

Part of me has always been morbid, it seems. Could it be my very nature to associate dread with love? That is, to fear loving because of ultimately, always, losing? That seems so cowardly.

But heartache produces such a keen sadness.

Disappointment is the bitterest draught.

Can you really fault someone for deciding they’d rather not?

But there I go again, playing a fool. It seems there is always some little silliness in me. Sometimes I think it is what saves me. More likely, it is the only thing that makes me tolerable.

The child parroted back to me that I was a “fragile flower.” But that feels true. I don’t feel strong enough to withstand anything else. Not even an attempt to make things better.

But, I know I will. I know that whether this is pure logic or a dark mood, that there is light out there somewhere. I might not find it today. But it is beautiful and I hate it because it keeps me hanging on to this hateful, hurtful world.

Each person faces loneliness. We can never truly be known by another. Well known, yes. But at the core of your being is something so subjective to the intricacies of your experiences that no one can ever fully comprehend it. You don’t even comprehend it yourself—it can still surprise you after all these years.

Sometimes, lately, you think it’s surprising you more than ever before. Is that what getting older is? Letting go of preconceptions you didn’t even know you had?

Or is that what love is: the shock of being valued leading you to see the world with new eyes?

Or is that just plain old trauma: you just got so stressed that you went completely outta your head and stuff looks weird now?

How did I get to be this old without realizing that hope and doubt are two sides of a coin?

Hope for things changing for the better? Doubting your negative beliefs and prior assessments?

Love. Insanity. Hope. Doubt. Whatever you call the little fucker, he keeps you coming back for more, doesn’t he? No better pusher on earth.

He peddles his merciless commodity and we all just spin away into the long black universe.

i wonder if stars feel lonely

witty title here

So--back in SoCal. Two job leads went up in smoke, I flubbed another interview, my haircut is no bueno, and I've been bedridden with pain the last four days.

It has not been a triumphant return.

But hopefully it will get better.

Why'd Ya Go And Do That?

Did you know that Mandy Patinkin and Madonna recorded a Sondheim duet together? These things do happen.

Feeling Crappy? Pass It Along!

This is a shit post drenched in self pity and simmering rage. Please ignore.

• Parent in hospital, going on week 5. Serious mental and physical issues. Getting better but situation seems to require constant supervision. Still can't get all doctors, etc, coordinated. Usual fuckery of healthcare compounded by being in Backwater Shitsville, FL.
• Fuck all insurance companies. To death. With a baseball bat embedded with glass and nails. The state of health "care" in this country is disgusting. 
• I hate Florida. Especially when it rains.
• It's raining.
• Apartment I'm staying at has ongoing issues, including a/c and plumbing. Had to shut off our own water main yesterday, after a spring bubbled to life behind the tub wall. Standing water throughout kitchen, bathroom, and under the carpet. 
• Landlord is scumbag, so we'll see if this gets fixed. Incredibly problematic, bc the leak has been going on for a while and we are talking about ripping up carpets and tearing up walls. None of which this car salesman motherfucker will be willing to do.
• I can't really do anything about any of it, bc it's not my place anyway.
• Parent's home troubles continue, with leaky roof, major plumbing issues, and the standard electrical outages because omg!rain. Who would have expected rain? In Florida, of all all places?
• Relative with terminal diagnosis is foundering around out there. Can't be reached, doesn't want to be reached, and no one has the money to help him out.
• Am broke. Have no job.No prospects. Tons of debt. Medical bills that have got me  on some collection lists now. And they keep coming. Got a bill for $25K the other week. Guess they waited to bill me until after my insurance had ended.
• Several sibs/relatives work for company that has always been shady. Now they are withholding pay and cancelling insurance and shit. Money is tight from loaning out to deadbeats like me. Everyone's job in peril.
• So many problems seem to relate to money. How did we all fuck it up so badly?
• Feel that I don't have any friends to turn to, even for a night out of distraction. Everybody is busy with their own shit and nobody has the time or the energy to take on something as hopeless as this. Those close by are absent--I don't even have any backup places to stay, really. Where have all these friendships gone? I felt that i put a lot of time and energy into their upkeep, but maybe i fucked that up too. Or maybe it's just like it always is: when your usefulness and relevance has expired, you become disposable. 
• I was denied bowling yesterday. I was late to the lanes bc i had to stop and counsel someone and then had to help clean up water disaster in apt. No bueno.
• menstrual cycle--despite medical debt, still not close to be solved, much less treated. b/c it's totally okay to have chronic pain if it's because of girl stuff
• Going to go wash face in hospital bathroom. At least here there is running water.
• Everyone is sad and tired. Apparently, no one has anything left to give. I think I'm about tapped out, myself. And if i wasn't already worthless enough, I lose all value when I lose the ability to deal with other people's shit.
• I'm fucking exhausted. We are all exhausted. There's gotta be a break in this action.
• i missed this season of walking dead. and because the ppl i do know don't have normal cable setups, i can't catch up via normal methods. the networks are such greedy little bitches.
• blah blah wah wah poorlittlemecakes

Headed West

It's been a bit since I've posted.

Life As We Know It took a pause and I took a trip. It was the kind of trip that turns out to be a Life As You Knew It--because things change so much in such a short time.

After 8.5 months back with my family, tending to immediate and extended family business, I'm headed home.

At mile 312 my sadness got the best of me, and I was beset by a terrible longing and great deal of regret.

I was alright again until someone texted me a picture of one of the cats, saying goodnight. That provoked a rather sudden and emotional response.

My heart hurts.

You'd think, after all this time, I'd be used to sadness. But I hate it so. No matter how often I feel it, it never gets easier.

So I'll do what I always do: run fast and far. And maybe one day I'll learn to move fast enough to leave my sorrows behind.

At least that's what I'll tell myself tonight.