Thursday, April 26, 2012


It's very, very strange to sit here and wonder..."now what should I do?"...I could go out on the beach, I could watch the Rays game, I could listen to the game while sitting on the balcony, sipping a Bourbon and C.Zero, I could type more, I could read, I could try to write (trying has never been my style, it generally flows when it wants - no shut off valve).  I could go to Georgie's and watch the game and get something to eat, but I'm not really that hungry (and have a Bourbon there)...

It's beautiful out today, and I could go sit in the hot tub, and pool...but, it's so sunny, and I've already burnt very slightly (I recognized the sting when I got into the hot tub yesterday).  Don't' want to burn, and looking at my skin it looks dried out...guess I should keep drinking this water.

I go home tomorrow - back to the house, with my "other half", 2.5 acres in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do, 4 furry children and a frog child, and a business.  Typically, we're rather board up there, and today I'm feeling it here...must be because, honestly, I'm left to my own devices.

It's amazing how we need things to entertain us all the keep us pre-occupied.  I'm quite happy doing nothing, but if I have too much of it then I start to get antsy.  Why is that?  It rather drives me bonkers.

I'd actually like to go bowling, go to a movie, have a conversation with someone that is more than "please, thank you, good morning." - That's all I've said pretty much since I've been here since Tuesday, after check-in.  Oh, but I have talked to C on the phone, and that's been nice.  It's good to hear a familiar voice.

I was supposed to meet up with a friend for lunch today or tomorrow, but as usual that got cancelled (seems whenever we try to meet up, even when we lived here, it was like that...schedules are ridiculous).  I cancelled on another friend as I thought I'd be meeting up with the first...should have planned that differently, I suppose.

Regardless, I need to just enjoy what little time I have left here, as it's slipping away from me quite quickly.

Guess I'll go entertain myself with the freedom that I have right now - I know I need to enjoy it, but sometimes it's difficult to enjoy the luxury you're given until you realize you no longer have it.


Mark, chunk #2

"I can feel the bullets flying from automatic guns behind me...shells falling to the dirt road from aerial combat...the stench of dying men arouse my senses, disgusting my heart.  My soul wears itself thin, crying for the loss, but begging for the future.  I force my fingers on the cold steel, fear in my eyes, a brick in my throat, as I kill the natives...the enemy.  Someone's brother, someone's son, falls to my bullet...and I wait for the one with my name engraved on the shrapnel to be left in my head.  The only intelligence left would be my personal self save another from my fate - yet, a soldier will follow behind me, in my footsteps."

"Either way I take a life.  Mine or his, either way, a man is killed.  Either way a life will end, as two more are born.  And, as I run through mud, carrying a heavy pack upon my back, I wonder if the weight of death is worth the price of life...or if mass suicide is all we'll ever make of it.  I'll probably never know...most of us won't make it through the might.  We're all playing Russian roulette with five chambers full.  One of us will survive, but at what price?  At the price of five hands, or will it be ten?  Five sons, five brothers...the band still plays on...the funeral still occurs."


"Dirt rained down upon us like hail in a hurricane, drenching our already soiled faces with a new layer of blood, guts and mud."

"A few of us having trouble remembering our names.  They don't mean a thing out here until one needs to be identified for shipping or discharge.  One soldier, who's been here since I have, has 5 or 6 sets of tags...lost soldiers dog I.D.'s now carried on without them. 'After all', he says, 'they're dead, so why should they care?'  He has a point.  Still, most of us don't care when we're alive...for in some way, we're still all just lost souls in a foreign land of destruction."


"Today I thought I felt a bullet slam into my was only a sharp pain.  Nothing hit me, except maybe fear.  Possibly the truth coming from behind...I know it's not reality.  You can't be real and fight for your life.  You can't succumb to sanity without first realizing the sane - and we are far from instruction.  We are the foot soldiers of doom.  We are wide awake in the soul of a nightmare."


"As I come upon a city full of lights...I realize it's set up for us, by the army, for our entertainment.  A small carnival in the midst of complete destruction.  We are the puppets being played by larger puppets.  We are the end result of a circus gone awry...they sent in the clowns, here we are.  Let us entertain you.  Let us make you cry."

Wednesday, April 25, 2012


By myself for a few days, giving me time to think.  I've talked to C a bit via text and phone; today something seems off, but I can't quite put a finger on it.  I hope she's enjoying her time off as well, away from me.

She says she misses me, and I wonder if she really does, or is just gut reacting?  I'm not sure if I know where I'm at, so how can I expect her to miss me?

I'm trying to figure relationships out right now, in my head, and what they are/mean to me.  I'm not entirely sure, I guess.  I mean relationships in the sense of living with someone and sharing a life with them.  Is this natural to only have one person you share your time with?  Probably not, based on the fact that most of the population quite enjoys friends and such...but, maybe, on the flip side, it's more than normal - maybe it makes more sense to have less figures in your life, so you can find yourself and figure your own path out?

The whole purpose of life is survival, on a very base level.  Take away all our crap, all our gadgets, give us nothing to do, no other purpose, and what do you have?  Survival.  You have to eat, you need a place to rest, you need drinking water, you probably will need fire.  That's about it.  Do you need people?  Maybe...we're a social group, us humans, but are they required to get along?  Yes, I think we're set up to need people in our need contact, to appreciate someone else, to share the burden with.

Today I was watching a pair of crows build a nest in a palm tree, while sitting in the hot tub.  Fascinating, really.  One of them would find a branch it liked, take it to a nearby telephone pole (or other sitting area) and then go back to the tree...they didn't want anyone to see where they were going, it seemed - protection of their nest that they're still building.  Amazing.  Humans don't do that - we show off what we're making, we don't try to make sure no one can see it, that it's fully safe.  Why is that, I it that need of acceptance from others that makes us so flamboyant in our ways?

Anyway...thinking about C and I...we are very much alike - we could probably both be quite happy living alone, but I don't think either of us really wants to do that.  I thought about this, as well:  Do I love C?  Yes, I know I do, very much.  Am I "in love" with C?  When I thought that question, I felt a swelling up inside me that answered for me...yes, I am, very, very much.

Why am I in love with someone?  What causes that?  I have no clue - I don't have an answer for that, but I'm happy I can at least say that I am, that I know I want to be with her, that I appreciate having her in my life.

Lately, we've been arguing over little garbage, and I'm hoping that while I'm gone she can sort through some of this as well - it's like we've got so much crap piled up around us that we're starting to kick it away but it's being kicked at each other, instead of us just destroying it and moving on.  We don't know how to get rid of it, so I'm working on that while I'm away - working on clearing out some of the negative, trying to calm down, figure out what's going on inside myself.

I know she can't love me unless I love myself - so, I assume I love myself to some degree, or I wouldn't be trying to figure these things out.  In fact, maybe that's been part of the problem.  She told me the other day that you really have to take care of yourself first and foremost - and she's right, of course, as without yourself you have literally nothing.  I've been so worried about how SHE is doing that I haven't been focusing on myself, and in return I've been driving her absolutely bonkers.

I know she can take care of herself, I just have to trust that she will.  I've been too overprotective, probably partially because there has been a breach of trust in the past, and I've pretty much moved on from that - and now, I think somewhere inside me I haven't trusted that she wants to take care of herself - that she wants to survive and thrive.

Taking a step back, I can see it now - I know she does.  I also can see just how much she cares about me.  She's at home while I'm away, working on our business, taking care of our furry children, cleaning the house so that when I come home it will be cleaner for us both.  That is PRIDE she's showing - she's proud of herself, of what she can accomplish, of what she will become if she allows herself to grow.  If I let go of the grip and just let her flourish.

I've often thought we are like a pair of saplings that were planted next to each other - our branches reach out and touch the other, we shed leaves in a pile at our bases that inter-mingle, some of our limbs are even starting to intertwine.  I wonder, if something happens to one or the other of us in the future, if we'll be able to cut out the diseased, dead part and move on without being disabled ourselves.

I watch my father go through this with the loss of my much as she drove him bonkers, he loved her like no other, and I know he'll never love someone else again.  He and I are a lot alike...but, he's not had cause to leave her in the past (well, he did, but chose not to, he stuck by her - and I think sometimes he might regret it, and other times he's happy he stayed right where he was).  He's moving on, but he's getting a little loopy - and I think this is all due to his lack of desire to interact with people.  He's not a hugger...and I doubt he's had any human contact in months - the last time would have been myself or C.  I wonder what that's doing to his his cortex of compassion and life.  I wonder if he's not allowing the disease my mothers branches left in him take over, instead of him cutting them out to keep growing and living.

So...Yes, we as humans do need people - we need others - we want to be plugged in.

I think sometimes it's good to unplug to realize that all the noise we create for ourselves only covers up and displaces our ability to grow, to learn, to flourish.  We are constantly being sprayed with repellent to keep ourselves "healthy", but it truly does stunt us in the long run.  Just like sun screen - you cover yourself with enough of it and you're allowing your skin to soak in chemicals, and blocking out the positive rays of the sun that make you grow - keeping out the water, the life saving stop yourself from becoming something more.

Yet, we all do it - you're reading this right now, aren't you?  Maybe you, too, should unplug for a few.


Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Mark, chunk #1

Words from Mark...please note the ------ separates sections of given pieces - these indicate they came at a different moment in time...

"Many have found their emotions becoming callous from grief...becoming numb to the killing spree we've been accountable for.  These many, these soldiers of pain, have found it necessary to appoint themselves as vindicators of rage.  To force their frustrations deep into the wombs of village women...and even a few men."

"We are becoming heated savages.  We are turning into rapists and killers.  We're in the army now."

"For Some, we'll never leave this place.  Our burden shed in the heat of dark huts over thrown.  Our internal anger towards life left at the feet of those villagers to sleep upon, in their no one shall ever forget we were here.  These, the same people that wished us to come and save them, now they wish us gone.  Still, none of us, on either side, ever expected to turn into the men we'd fought against all our turn into the men who's lives were lived out in the dark prison cells of concrete and steel.  We have become those men....we ARE those men...only we weren't sentenced to death row for a crime.  Our crime came long after our given sentence to death.  We are the ones fulfilling the crime to match the punishment."


"The humid air of the night promises to make us sweat for our sleep.  We silently pray for some peace to our war...if only for five, single minutes...just to be able to breathe again."

"Sounds tear at our minds, and this is only the second day we felt the action of disgrace.  The termination of bodies we've seen...most of us new to this type of killing spree.  New to this idea of a jungle of blood...and this is only the beginning.  For some of us, luck will take us early on.  For others, hell shall pay us back before we die."

"Our feet hurt from boots too heavy for the weight we carry with us.  Yet, still we understand, somehow we know that no amount of physical stripping shall ever prepare us for what we are to carry upon our minds in the days that shall see us through...that shall emblazon our lives with tattoos of war and devastation.  The only thing that could save us now would be God...and many of us are believing in something we've never given a second thought about that's all that we have left to cling to, Faith."


"As I scream for Illinois, my home land, I wonder, in this salty jungle air, if I'll ever see the light of day again...or if I shall perish by the light of the moon and smoke and gunfire."

"Drugs make their way through these skulls we have...these brains have become nothing but mush, as have our once patriotic thoughts turned into skeletons baked in the midnight sun."

"Some of us were drafted, we had no choice.  Some of us chose it ourselves, this fate.  Those that picked this hell for themselves seem to be the weakest of the lot.  They thought they'd do their patriotic duty by fighting for a cause, no left realizing they're killers of hundreds.  Their life is their only payment.  Death row is right here...right now."


Air attacks.  We hear them.  Shells drop all around us.  I watch my fellow soldiers get their pink slips by bullet.  Sometimes a limb will blow past me, in the air, landing far from the body itself.  The hand, arm, leg never to be recovered...the funeral to be less a piece of the solider - still, no one will care."

Stirrup, anyone?

So, tonight I mentioned in a social media avenue that I was once a "stirrup". I was asked to clarify, and I feel it's about time I did, aside from the ol' "hey, I remember when" type stories.

It's been almost 6 years since The Ex and I split, and most of my close friends from that time period know this story, so I don't feel there will be too much harm. If there is, so be it - I apologize to you if you're reading this and were a party to this and are offended (I especially apologize if you're offended as I feel sorry for you, considering if you were there you've probably got a longer list of interesting stories in some respects than I might, even).

Ahhhh...I don't recall exactly when this was, but I'd safely guess the early 2000's. A friend of mine introduced me to a friend (backstory here), and this friend of mine got heavily into the Leather Community. To the point, mind you, that she was KNOWN in the community by the nickname "moocher bottom". That's not quite the name you want in that group of folk - that's like being known at the bar as, "self assessed whore". Ya, seriously. She was happy that way...

I digress...Moocher Bottom introduced me to Ratty. Ratty ended up dating a woman, also with an Are name, so we'll call her R. So, now we have R&R dating. Simple enough.

The Ex and I became good friends of R&R's and The Ex also started to explore her more "leather" side. This is not like Leather Tuscadero, folks, we're talking bondage, whips and chains. This is NOT my scene, mind you, but I was a good little other half to my lovely Wife, so I did what I could to make her happy (within reason). As R&R were heavily into this "scene", and they knew The Ex was highly interested, they asked us if we'd like to attend an "Event" in Orlando. To amuse the wife, I agreed. I must admit, I was quite curious (wouldn't you be? Honestly now!) This "event" was a Leather Convention...I think it was for 2 or 3 days, I can't recall now. I guess I should go by what I do remember:

We shared a room (and hearing our co-horts having sex was enough of a turn-on for us to oblige in the same action across the room). R volunteered for many things, including a session of "wax play", and that was quite interesting - to the point that they taught you how to use wax to help relax you much like a massage. The Play Room was quite...hmmmm...not quite scary, but enough of something that I knew I would never want to partake in such a situation - open play with bondage/whips/pain is not something I find necessary in my life. The buffet/dinner was interesting enough, especially when R let them know it was her birthday, and she volunteered for a Fisting demonstration.

Yes...I did just say "Fisting Demonstration". I was a stirrup. R heard they needed someone for this, and since it was her birthday the next day (the day of the demonstration), the 100's of people all cheered and clapped for the birthday girl who was volunteering to be fisted in front of a live audience. In fact, it had such a turn-out they had to move it to a different room to hold everyone who wanted to attend! The Fister (is) an author on the subject and quite professional, made us all feel quite calm about the situation at hand. Ratty was to be there with her beloved, and The Ex and I were asked to be stirrups to R's legs (and she wasn't a small girl, mind you).

I can honestly tell you, who is reading, that this is the first, and most probably the last, time I've ever experienced watching someone get fisted in front of a live audience. If you don't know what fisting is, you might want to Google that. Now...I will admit I've had my fair share of, ummmm, fisting, but I never was able to get this technique down (...and, maybe I'm just not that talented, or The Ex wasn't that open to the concept - even though she requested this).  It really makes you can someone take something like that inside themselves and find such pleasure in it? Well, it's not for me to say what's pleasurable to someone else, now is it?

...But, that's the brief, truthful story of my being a stirrup. I hope the audience at hand has enjoyed.


Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Mark, #2

This is called "Mark #2" - Mark has a story, and it was told through me...and I've got all the words I wrote for him somewhere in a large binder (I know where it is...) and I should really post all this stuff, as it's important in many ways.

Mark came to me in 1993 (I think), and I wrote many short pieces from him...he was a Vet in Vietnam who died there; the writing showed he was from the IL/WI area (forget which, exactly) and towards the end, I got his full name.

In 1995, my (then) partner looked him up on the Vietnam Wall Memorial list...he was there - and I found out he was from that area of the country (the opposite of the one he wrote as) - and that he died about a year before I was born.  Damn...that hit me pretty hard.

I don't hear much from Mark anymore - I think I got his story mostly out, but in 1999 he gave me a little more, just to remind me that he's still with me, always:

"and if anyone shall ever forget what it meant to send their men to war, if anyone shall ever forget what it meant to leave their mothers, wives, children and parents alone, waiting by the phone, by the t.v. for some glimpse of possible returned death - for some hollow face to wave back at the cameras...wondering if your son would come back in a body bag...if anyone shall ever forget these erroneous ways of the world, these horrid manslaughter ideas that spouted upon the refuge of idealism that we turned upon ourselves with loaded guns - bullets flying - death mounting...if anyone shall ever forget let it be me, let it be my sacrificed ghost that walks upon the so many others, let it be me, please let it be me who forgets, the one who died, the one who's gone...the one who's writing."

6/16/99 – Mark…

I do think I'll work on adding in his pieces to this blog, as they are truly impressive to read - even to me, to this day, they're haunting.  I took these pieces to a Vet who I befriended at a trade show I was working one day in Portland - as he asked about them once we started talking about his tours of duty in the war, and my writing this "piece" about a Vet.  He brought them back the next day, and said he had never read anything like this from someone who wasn't there, who didn't live the war - that it was not just impressive, but amazing.  I hope, if he's still alive, that he still has that memory, as I do.  To a writer, this is the best form of flattery - but, to someone who has been given the gift of telling a story from the past, it's more than's acknowledgment for us both.


Short Rites Of Passage scribble

This is something I wrote a bit ago - submitted to a small magazine (thus the very structured wording) - thought I'd post it here so I'd have it in the's short, to the point, but is my take on one aspect of "finding" myself - though, to be honest, I never really was that lost as I was fighting my way through all the b.s. I was being fed on a daily basis.  That is what made me tough, helped shape who I am today.

Growing up in a small town as a Jehovah’s Witness, my mother tried to keep me semi-sheltered from life outside of what I was taught to believe.  My father just went along for the ride.  At the age of 18, after barely graduating high school (due to boredom), I left the very next day, in 1988, in my parents tiny truck with a friends brother in tow, and moved to Los Angeles from Oregon.  I moved to the literal, on a map, this is it Los Angeles.  We started out as four in a 1-bedroom which turned into six, living in the “Spanish area” which had the Korean police department about 3 blocks away.  It was quite a change from what I grew up with, but I was ready for it.  I wanted to go out and experience life.  I assure you, I did.  I got a job at a record store, part time, and barely made enough to eat…but, I didn’t care, I was free.  I lived and worked in a grimy area of the city, but for the first time in my life I felt like I could breathe.

One of my friends and I moved to another apartment in the south part of Downtown Los Angeles a couple of months later – this time it was three in a studio, near the Los Angeles River and the Jewelry District.  I was in Los Angeles for a total of six months.  The amount of things I experienced in this time was enough to write a small book, and I’m grateful to this day for that.  I wouldn’t change the being broke and not getting enough to eat, missing out on a crazy rave (and what would have been my first and only experience with heavy drugs) because my instincts took over, meeting a man I adored only to find out he practiced Voodoo and wanted a wife to compliment him, or the number of people I met that I’m still in touch with to this day.  I found myself in Los Angeles.  I woke up.  I realized that I didn’t have to be what I was molded to be.  I realized I could be who I was born to be, which was far from what I was “trained” to become.

I bought myself a ring in the jewelry district about a month before moving back home to Portland.  I wore it on my ring finger for years – a solid gold wedding band.  I married myself in Los Angeles, and told myself this when I put it on.  I gave into myself and found myself, and I wouldn’t change that experience for the world…and I know I’m blessed because so many others aren’t allowed to experience life once they turn “of age”.


Had a bit too much bourbon last night (actually, not really, it was the Tequila I insisted on adding to the bourbon that did me in, I think)...but, got up late, which was nice.  Did some walking, fed the kitties, did a bunch of tweeting (junkie, yes), and now I'm in front of the computer at almost 11:30 ready to start some work today.

C hasn't given me much of a chance to miss her - she and I talked on the phone last night, and again this morning (I sent her a picture that she needed some clarification on, LOL). It's okay, though, it's actually calm today and it's nice not having anyone here.

SisterFromAnotherMister might come up tomorrow (or tonight) and spend the day - not sure yet.  She's got some opportunities on the horizon for work and doesn't want to miss out on anything by coming up for an extended stay next week, and I personally don't blame her.  She's had two interviews thus far already this week, and her last day of work was technically on Sunday!  She's paid up from the company through the end of June, I believe, so she'd be fine, regardless - a job now would be a bonus (especially considering she's due in August).  Now I just have to wait for her to call - which she can be quite poor at in regards to things that I'm waiting to hear on...I hate that.

I've gotten C addicted to the Hunger Games book (I'm on the second book, now) - that's good - it's an excellent read that sucks you right in...I won't go into the fact that it mirrors what I think our country is headed towards in the future.  That's for another blog/discussion.

Thinking I may post some of my old writing up here - maybe that will help get me back into the groove.


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Worn out...

To say I'm stressed and that I need a break is the understatement of the century, I'm afraid...

C told me to get away last week...I would have, it it hadn't of still been spring break rates here in this state I exist, this week, we've been bickering about the stupidest crap on the planet, and she just finally snapped - she said, "you didn't get away last week, so I need to get away this week.", I'm not fine about it, but it is what it is.

Part of me is perfectly fine with the fact that she needs a break...but, I need a fucking break, and have needed one for quite awhile - I guess the faster rabbit gets the carrot.  Not me, not this week.  Not today.

My sister is probably coming up next week, which will add an extra layer of stress to my inner self - she's just lost her job of over 15 years and needs to figure out what to do (while being pregnant with a second child, who's due about 4 months before the first one turns 2)...I love her dearly, but I just don't know that I'm ready for the baggage she's going to bring with.  We are the "safe haven" - the boonies - the home away from home...but, how much home can I give someone when I'm not happy in it myself?

That's the key...I need to find some happiness.

Most days I'm fine, but for the past few weeks things have just been mounting - and I'm not really sure what it is or why, but it's here.  I used to thrive on stress, and now that I don't want seems I'm getting more than I can handle.  Maybe I can handle it, but it just doesn't seem like it at this moment.  I hope that's all it is.

I am going to get back to work, as I won't leave everything until C comes back, even though she's told me to do something to that effect - she's worried about me, but she had to take care of herself first, and I understand that.  I should have stepped up last week and just said, "fuck finances", but that's not how I operate.  

She told me today that I'm selfless.  I told her thank you, and that it might be the death of me someday, and I mean that - I'm starting to feel that wear on me,'s time, I guess, to start thinking of myself and fuck everything else.

Do I mean that?  Who knows, the year is still young...and the people in office are still screwing with my ability to make an honest living.