Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Brilliantly Written

Thursday, March 9, 2017

From My Subconscious to My Ego

I find you in the morning
After dreams of distant signs
You pour yourself over me
Like the sun through the blinds
You lift me up
And get me out
Keep me walking
But never shout
Hold the secret close
I hear you say

You know the way
It throws about
It takes you in
And spits you out
It spits you out
When you desire
To conquer it
To feel you're higher
To follow it
You must be clean
With mistakes
That you do mean
Move the heart
Switch the pace
Look for what seems out of place

On and on it goes
Calling like a distant wind
Through the zero hour we'll walk
Cut the thick and break the thin
No sound to break no moment clear
When all the doubts are crystal clear
Crashing hard into the secret wind

You know the way
It twists and turns
Changing colour
Spinning yarns
You know the way
It leaves you dry
It cuts you up
And takes you high
You know the way
It's painted gold
Is it honey
Is it cold
You know the way
It throws about
It takes you in
And spits you out
You know the way
It throws about
It takes you in
And spits you out
It spits you out
When you desire
To conquer it
To feel you're higher
To follow it
You must be clean
With mistakes
That you do mean
Move the heart
Switch the pace
Look for what
Seems out of place

It's o.k
It goes this way
The line it twists
It twists away
Cuts you up
And spits you out
Keeps you walking
But never shout

-Peter Murphy/Paul Statham

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

How I Wish

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground
And how we found
The same old fears
Wish you were here
-David Gilmour/Roger Waters

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Challenge Accepted

This holiday season is strange for me so far. There's this combination of over-decorating and humbug. I started dragging out the decorations well before Thanksgiving; that is not at all usual for me. I did the same thing the year my dad died, only it was for Halloween. It might be because any major holiday or birthday when I was a kid was a shit show that on the best of years was a depressing hot mess. Now if I want a good holiday, it's mostly in my hands. I kinda have to fake it to make it nice for the kids, but it becomes fun because of who it's done for and with. I WANT to like the holidays, but no matter how well it's hidden, there's a pall that's cast with all the years of negative conditioning. Now my parents are both gone, the house I grew up in is gone. I will probably be working the rest of my life to cast the darkness away. (Tough motherfucking) challenge accepted. It's not because I've bounced to the top of the hill and relish the battle. It's the best of the limited options.

Thursday, October 20, 2016

The Bitter End

My mom died this week. Today was the visitation. Everyone spoke of how kind and loving she was, all her church friends and her brother. No one has been awful to me for not being close to her, though i had expected some of that. I just, I KNOW, how she really was with me, and people kept coming up to me and saying stuff like, "Don't be hard on yourself," or "She really loved you, let that comfort you." So, I know she's talked about me and some aspects of our relationship to people who are strangers to me. The thing is, everyone really loved her. Nothing but glowing glowyness about how wonderful she was. Even though no one was mean with me about things, it's clear that the self she reserved for me was completely different than what others got. She was considered to be so self-sacrificing. I suppose it's possible that if she didn't see any boundary between me and her that it made it easier for her to sacrifice me, too, and then to have no fucking idea why I'm so angry and violated by her attitude toward me.  These people have never seen her be childish and demanding and I don't wonder that they can't comprehend that it's not just me, something wrong with me and my attitude towards her. So I thank all these well-meaning people, and pat them and accept their condolences while my stomach is twisting, and I know that as much as I wanted that fantasy of a genuine come-to-Jesus moment it never would have happened. I'm the only one in the world that seems to have had this experience of her, and it feels sick and lonely.

Monday, August 29, 2016

To Be Filed Under "Some Shit Never Changes"

I haven't talked to NM for well over a year, and probably closer to two years and a while back she tried to call my home phone, which I ignored (actually, had to shut the fuckin' ringer off because she let it ring for MINUTES). I guessed either someone died or she had a family get-together that she was going to invite me to, apropos of nothing.

Sho'nuff, I get a CARD in the mail today. It's one of those flowery old-lady cards with birds on the pastel envelope - very matchy-matchy. Front of the card says (as I predicted to myself the minute I decided to open it) "Thinking of You" with a very thoughtful looking bluebird parked on what I believe to be a white gladiolus.

Inside of the card, as it is hand-written exactly:

Dear (me), (husband), (little boy), and (big boy),

I hope all is well with all of you.

(NM's sister) & (sister's husband) are coming Labor Day weekend and we are planning a family get-together on Sunday Sept 4 at 1:00 p.m. at (NM's sister-in-law's) in (that city). I and everyone else would love to have you come. If you could bring a dish and whatever you would like to drink. (That would be appreciated.)

I Love You  and Miss you very much. (This was actually double-underlined, but I couldn't figure out how to do that on my computer.)

Has (little boy)'s school started yet? What grade is he in. Is he into any sports?

How is (big boy) doing? Please give him my love and ask him to come, too.

I've would love to see all of you.

(Aaaand the kicker...) If you can't come please drop me a line or call me. (Would love to hear from you any time.)

Take care. Hope to see you.

My Love, Prayers, and Best Wishes, Always, Mom

P.S. I sure appreciated getting (little boy's) school pictures and look forward to getting more this school year.

Welp. She just guaranteed I'm not going to contact her for shit. I haven't fucking talked to you for over a year because I HATE YOU and we're just going to try to pretend it's all okay, and just play along so your family thinks you're a great mom whose daughter LURVES you and won't I please bring a jello salad and WHATEVER I WANT TO DRINK (but not booze because you will DISAPPROVE HEARTILY or maybe bring booze so you can judge me now that all your relatives who drink have passed away) and CALL YOU because it's the RIGHT THING TO DO and YOU ASKED ME TO. Also I haven't sent you school pictures for over a year of YOUR grandchild who YOU MOST FERVENTLY DESIRE TO HAVE A PICTURE OF AND DON'T FORGET BECAUSE I DID IT LAST YEAR SO DO IT AGAIN DOIT DOIT DOIT.

Shallow, manipulative cunt.

Monday, July 11, 2016

Havoc Beyond the Grave

About a week ago, my childhood home caught fire, resulting in a fatality. It happened in the middle of the afternoon, with multiple workers pouring concrete right outside. The state fire marshal has not released the cause.

I discovered this happened by being tagged on Facebook by a childhood friend whose grandma still lives a couple of doors down from there. The front of the house was featured news by the local big city station, with additional pics of the burnt out window of my former bedroom.

The house had been completely redone, and the workers outside were pouring a concrete slab where my father's nasty garages used to be. My first thought was: What did he do? I know the outrage he would've had when alive over the idea of someone even touching "his" things, let alone changing them completely. My second thought was: What did the house do? I grew up terrified of fire. I prayed deep into the night many, many times that I wouldn't die in a fire. My sis also had nightmares and fears of fire. I had awful, bloody nightmares centering around my bedroom. In her mental illness, my mother tried (unsuccessfully) to set herself on fire one Christmas.

Every day I scan the news wondering what caused it, what caused that poor woman to die in the middle of a day with a huge group of people outside her door.